From Writing Letters to Today’s Instant Messaging and Video Calling
The involvement and excitement are missing
Do you belong to the era when people wrote letters — like the physical ones with paper and pen that arrived through the post?
The last few weeks have been dreadfully hectic, in a good way. But I was bone tired by the end. I decided to take one evening off from any writing or other commitments, flipped through my old DVD collection; and watched The Namesake. It is adapted from a book by Jhumpa Lahiri.
The lead characters wait for a letter from their grandmother in Calcutta. It is a significant part of the movie (and the book). My mind drifted to the impact of letters in our lives from that point onwards.
Now, all I get through the post are official government documents.
Das Leben der Anderen (The lives of others)
There used to be two kinds of letter writers — regular ones and one-off note writers. The latter wrote letters out of the blue and it was a nice surprise (because you would not expect it in the first place).
My grandfather used to be a regular writer kind. One postcard every week like clockwork. He would convey his well-being. Tell us about the comings and goings in the neighborhood, news of our relatives, or the cost of stuff in the market. I could visualize everything by reading those letters. The postcards made us feel tied and connected to each other.
I would write to him in return. He taught me to read and write Bengali and asked me to practice my skills on postcards. He is no more, and there is no one else that I write to in Bengali but I can still read and write thanks to his influence.
The other set of regulars were a few cousins who were studying in boarding school or staying in other cities. I knew their dorm mates through the letters and the food that they ate in the common hall. I even knew their test schedules, teachers, and punishment for whatever mischief they were involved in.
One of them had clarified that life in the boarding school was not exactly as portrayed in Enid Blyton’s Malory Towers and such. But I preferred to believe otherwise. As we grew older, we would share our dreams, struggles, heartbreaks, and coming-of-age stories.
The other thing was pictures. Today, when I receive photos on WhatsApp, most of the time I glance through and move on. People send ten of the same kind (*major eye roll*). We click tons of them, share them once, and then forget about them. Since it is easy and cheap, we send them all filling up our and others’ phones and storage devices. Every few months, I painstakingly delete them to create space.
Back in the day, we would click a couple of pictures of an event, a baby, a wedding, or a trip somewhere (in front of a monument or park) and get them developed. These would be the ardent visual aids to otherwise extensively descriptive letters. There was intent and effort and a lot of love involved. Every photo that we would receive with letters was treasured and beheld many times over.
Telecommunication was not what it is today. There would be no communication in between whatsoever so you would eagerly wait for the letters to arrive. I remember waiting for the postman to come around our street and burst with joy when he would hand me mine.
Leisure and the pleasure of writing letters
Receiving letters was one thing. The other enjoyable activity was the pleasure of writing letters in leisure. My son often complains of feeling bored if he has nothing to do. He turns to the digital world for instant company. I used to write letters to ward off boredom or if I was lonely.
The act of writing the letter would take me mentally closer to the person I was writing to. My letters used to be conversational, personal, detailed, and extensive. Today, writing experts say blog posts should be conversational for superior engagement. I have been doing it since childhood but never understood its importance.
My earliest memory of letter writing is that of my mom who used to write often and maintain social contact in the family. She did influence me. It was one act when she would shoo us away if we went to her asking mundane things.
I remember spending a spend a chunk of my pocket money buying and stocking supplies of my own — different kinds of writing sheets, notepads, colorful envelopes, unless I was using a Post-Office standard issue aerogram or inland letter/ postcards, etc., color pens, ink pens, and ink pot. Everything would be neatly stocked in a folio.
My favorite time of writing letters was in the afternoon when the house was quiet. An Austenesque way of sitting at my desk overlooking our backyard, sipping a cup of tea and writing. Ah, the idyllic pleasure. I get goosebumps thinking of those days. There was such a charm in the simplicity of the act.
Nothing can surpass that. Time seemed to fly as I wrote.
Writing letters was never a chore, it was entertainment, a pleasure. An interlude I would eagerly seek. It was a much craved “me time”. There was an eagerness to write. And I would write over days, a page here a page there between school work and sports or hanging out with friends. Writing is an immersive process — you relive all those events that you are writing about and narrating.
So what did I write? Anything and everything. I had a notebook where I would jot down events to narrate, topics to discuss, points to include, and news to be shared as and when I remembered them or they occurred.
So, when I sat down to write, I would flip through and share. Sharing mundane details of the community to intimate events, joys, and success; failure and despair. It all depended on my bond with the receiver.
The cousins in boarding school demanded that I write so that they won’t feel lonely or cut off. It was a way of growing up together with those who were staying far away from me, involved in what is happening in their lives and mine.
One of them later joined the army and was posted in a remote location where letters were airdropped. I would make it a point to write regularly irrespective of how busy I was in life. Every single one of them was reciprocated with love. He would read and reread them between shifts to fight through isolation from family.
There were quite a few people to whom I used to write regularly. But I never had a penfriend. I wonder why? I think it would have been a wonderful experience. My parents never initiated me into writing letters. I picked and developed the habit on my own and fell in love with it.
Longevity and intrinsic value of letters
There are things in letters that an email or message can never replicate. How many times have you read a fun, informal email twice unless to extract some information and act on it?
A letter was savored by reading it again and again. I can’t even express that feeling of sheer unbridled joy. And then they were stored in small boxes or tied together in a bunch with ribbons.
The other day my mother was clearing some old stuff in her cupboard and chanced upon a wooden box full of letters from the ‘70s and ‘80s. The cleaning expedition went for a quick toss and the next two or three days went by reading them and remembering the incidents, people, and places.
Nowadays, I never wait for messages or emails. They just keep coming whether I want or not. But I would eagerly wait for letters. When the postman came to deliver a letter, it would immediately become the high point of the day. I would see who it is from and then leave it on my study table to go do my chores and schoolwork and then sit with it at the end of the day. That solitude, the peace, and the calming effect — I have never felt it doing anything else to date.
It is not entertaining for the receiver but for me the writer too. Writing helped me focus, concentrate better, and not feel lonely. I would imagine the expressions of the person who would be getting the letter. When I tell my son about it, he has a curious question — who would want a letter from me?
And why should I waste time walking to the post office to get the stamps and drop off the letter? I can simply text and get on with it. THAT attitude there is the difference. For me, dropping the note in the post box on the way to school or in the evening while going to play was not a chore or a bother. It was part of the entire writing process and feeling.
Writing letters helped in another way. It helped us to be resilient since we could share and vent out. We could write and express. It was a strong emotional outlet.
Technology, the changemaker
There was a time I could write 4–5 pages of letters by cutting or deleting stuff but now it’s a challenge. I did not have to struggle with the flow of thoughts, organizing, and penning them. Now, I need my word processor or Google docs to write, copy-paste, move up and down, and delete till I get the final output.
In the mid ‘90s a friend went away to the US for higher studies. We would email each other and still write letters as that was more elaborate and fulfilling. Sadly, with more emails and ease of telecommunication, we have lost touch.
And oh, my God — the handwriting! Earlier, I had perfect cursive writing skills. Every letter and word was a perfect size and legible. Today, my handwriting turns into scribbling by the 8th or 9th line. If I have to actually show my love and care by writing, I first type it and then copy the stuff with paper and pen. (*how pathetic! I know.*)
Four years ago, the entire family had gathered at a resort to celebrate an uncle and aunt’s golden anniversary. After coming back, I typed a thank you note, then wrote it by hand and couriered it to my aunt. She called to thank me and remarked that it was ages since someone has sent her a handwritten note. Most of the family has seen it at one time or the other.
As the world has moved to emails and then instant messaging, writing letters has all but disappeared. There is no excitement in receiving an email (unless it is your college acceptance note). Even video calls have become tedious. Now we talk about writing in a journal to unload our thoughts. Our forefathers have been doing it for ages.
In Gratitude
I am thankful for those fond memories of the past when life was different and communication was intentional, purposeful, engaging, and emotionally stirring.
Letter writing did help me do well in school essays, especially descriptive ones. The practice of writing letters made expressing myself easier, fulsome, and psychologically engaging. It is probably the reason why I took to writing as my side business.
It will be an understatement to say that I was more aware of what was happening in people’s lives when we wrote letters than now where I can just jump into a video call and see for myself. I prefer to text than speak (*making a sheepish face*).
Thank you, Jhumpa Lahiri and Mira Nair for “The Namesake” book and movie, which reminded me about letters and the joy of writing and receiving letters — the inspiration for this post.
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I write about small businesses, health, and life as I see it on Medium, LinkedIn, and my website.
