A handwritten letter arrives

Last week was very memorable.
A very simple event, was the source of boundless joy.
The arrival of a hand written letter.
Not an email.

After a very long duration, may be years and years, I received a had written letter.
From a caring human being, who is destined to become my relative, by law.
And I was moved.

I had to read it again and again, for the sheer pleasure of holding it in my hands and re-living the joys of receiving,reading,loving, hand written letters.

We grew up that way.
Some where down the line, at least I, got victimized too, to the convenience of emails.
This gentleman now in his 60's obviously did not.
He wrote a letter on a piece of paper using a pen.
In neat legible handwriting.


I wanted to reply too in the same vein.
Promptitude has always been a virtue.
I was not able to.
And that inability was gnawing me every day.

I resolved I would, and not call him and say thank you...I would write back a handwritten response.
Though I have his cell number I did not reach for the buttons.
I held back.
I have to write to him.

Despite such resolutions its now almost a week since I haven't.
I could not and am feeling miserable about it.
Such a simple act of yesteryears is nigh impossible now.

In these past few days I might have responded to hundreds of emails within minutes, but here was an act that had to be done for sure, but new habits having now formed, have forced me to not to...procrastinate in a way.

The gentleman in question doesn't have an email to begin with.
He is not even net savvy.
That adds to my predicament.
I have to write back a handwritten letter.
I haven't.

As an interim measure, in order to get over the guilt of not acknowledging/responding within a reasonable time, I gave in and did call him up, and expressed my gratitude with a promise of a written response too.

Why was I not able too?
I had the paper.
I had the pen.
I had envelopes.
I had access to postage too.
The post box is also there...a few feet away from my home.
The postal services are also alive and kicking.
The will to write is also there.

Then what is/was missing?

A habit that is no longer "the habit".
Yes, the habit of writing hand written letters has long since diluted/dissolved too.
Almost dead.Thanks to technology which has made the pen a tool of the past and the key board the tool of the now.

No wonder then,I am also one of the victims of modern times.
To be blamed.
Not him...he wrote to me the way he grew up,lived with,and retained it as a habit.

Not me.
For the better in many senses, for the worst in one.
Not being able to respond back, with the promptitude of yesteryears,through hand written letters, reciprocating love and affection in the same vein.

As a habit.

Axee
Alias
Arun