A Correspondence #8 : प्रियतम !
Written by Dadima, sent to Dadaji on 24th September 1949. Mad artist and wanderer, Pranjal Vaid, added his voice and thoughts to this one
To know how it all began, read this :
The Letter
चिट्टी की opening line कोई लिखना सीखे तो मेरी दादी से सीखे !
As I read it this letter again, wrapped in Delhi’s humidity, I think of not the pain of separation, but the shock of arrival. There seems to be a five month gap since the last exchange between the lovers. This letter must have felt like the arrival of monsoon to my grandfather. I imagine him reading the the letter and reading it again and again till his heart is drenched in her words. I imagine him quickly penning his reply, the nib of his pen slipping through the many sentences puddled in his mind.
I imagine many rains tearing through the letter, pouring out of my eyes, as I read their words, decades later.
Pranjal found his parents in my Dadi’s letter. It made me wonder about how time accumulates in the pockets of our relationships, making them so heavy and so light, all at the same time.
(A Hindi transcription of the letter can be found here. And an English translation is available here.)
In Pranjal’s Words
I kept staring at it for a long time.
Anything I say to describe it is feeling wrong.
Seems like time hasn’t passed at all.
चिरकाल, सुप्त, चैन, खो, पकड़, दिल, धो, सुध, फल, हृदय, प्रोग्राम, जगह, लाभ, ननिहाल, जवाब, मूर्ख, अच्छा
It made me think of my grandparents,
who I could never see together..
Here, I’ve put together four snapshots I’d randomly shot during the lockdown while I was in Delhi, of my parents together and not so.






