#185: A Treasure Called Letters

My Life in 100 Objects - Part 4

While rummaging through memorabilia from the early years of my life, I stumbled upon a collection of letters from my mother that had somehow been preserved. We were not accustomed to saving letters. When I migrated to Australia, I diligently wrote a letter each week to both sides of our families. Despite being told repeatedly by family members about the value of those letters and how much they learned about Australia from my descriptions, none of those letters were retained.

When we moved to our current house, in 2002, for some reason, I started saving the letters my mother wrote to me in a dedicated folder. I had forgotten about this folder until now.

It turned out to be a fortunate discovery. I spent the entire afternoon today immersed in the content of these letters, uncovering numerous details that my memory had overlooked as trivial. However, today, those seemingly trivial details hold significant meaning.

In one of the letters my mother wrote: “… your suggestion about writing events as biography; your papaji (father) says that with speedily changing time, coming generations will not bother about this ancestral history. But it is good for us to indulge in the past, and express our feelings and desires. It’s a better way to make one happy - just like doing a painting or another artistic work. It’s the best consolation.”

I believe my father was mistaken; in the rapidly changing times, there is a growing desire to cling to the old things. My mother's perspective was more insightful—documenting our past, emotions, and aspirations is a profound way to find happiness. Writing, undoubtedly, is a form of artistic expression.

In the previous weeks, I delved into the stories of my ancestors, grandparents, and parents. Today, I am commencing the narrative from the point when we moved into our first home.