The neglected pile of letterheads were back on my table! Splash of colours to add to it. 

Letters had always been dear to me. In fact they are responsible in developing me as a person i am now. An integral part of life, which was rather missing for past few months. Writing someone after ages brings back old memories. How unknown people become friends and in no time share a part of life with each other. Distances narrow down and the wait is worthwhile. But do I really want to narrow down this distance?

A letter that smells of the fragrance the person puts on, makes you further feel closer to that person. And here i begin writing a long awaited letter, for it happens to be a normal yet a special day!

They say it right that nothing can suffice the warmth of handwritten letter, to which we can go back to and feel warmer. Yet there are few letters that turn cold with passing days.

Suddenly i shuddered on daring to have started writing this forbidden one. For it’d be lethal to be found in the right hands. did i say ‘right’ hands? oh yea. Secretly i never want it to reach to the person its written to. You ask me why the hell do i even care to write then? Aint writing letters my beloved thing? then what better  personalised present can there be besides this?

Finally after the series of debates i gently, yet firmly touch the nib to the paper.

 A little voice inside me keeps nagging, “do you really have to do this?”

 But neglecting it, i begin writing, making sure each letter looks as artistic as possible. I do want to flaunt my improved handwriting after the endless pages of writing practice. I struggle through it all making sure not to have any scratches.

Its soon time to write the last line, and i pause. what do i write? ‘love’ ‘yours’ or simply sign my name? I choose it to remain nameless, and sealed with love.