4th Apr 2020

Dearest Palak,

Small towns are dangerous places.

It’s in small towns that you will see shades of both old and new India, cohabitating dangerously close to each other. They are basically a bunch of closely knit people with access to cable networks, who bitch, in sophisticated words, about everything under the sky .

You can’t blame them though. After all, they are stuck somewhere in between the old and the new. They pretend to be cool and progressive but are unwilling to give up their age-old mentality, the sense of entitlement, their privileges…

And since they don’t have many options for entertainment, poking their nose in others’ matters isn’t something they can resist.

I am not saying you can’t see these things in big cities. You can. You will. But big cities have other advantages too.

I like the anonymity that big cities offer. That’s why I don’t want to leave Bangalore. And more importantly, that’s why I don’t want to go back to my hometown. I feel claustrophobic over there…

I grew up in a village, barely 4 km from the nearest town, a small town. But to many town-dwellers, the village I hail from used to seem like an entirely different world. To them, I was the guy from the village.

I remember, in Class 6 or 7, I came first in class. A friend’s mom, during one of their kitty parties, told my aunt that she was unable to accept that a boy from a village came first. She wasn’t aware that the person she was talking to was my aunt. Her exact words were “Kothakar ek gaayer chhele naki first hoye geche…” Her son came third or fourth as far as I remember. Come to think of it, I realize how our parents were more competitive than we ever were… Even my mom was… Maybe still is.

Anyway, there are tons of such incidents that happened as I grew up because of which I never felt comfortable around any of my friend’s parents. In fact, I never felt comfortable around most of my relatives. And eventually, I boycotted them altogether – something I don’t regret.

When you asked me how come I remember your mom’s birthday every year, it got me into thinking. I do not remember everyone’s birthday. I gave you a bullshit reason that it’s because your mom’s birthday happens to be just four days after mine.

But the overthinking side of me wondered if it has anything to do with the feelings that I once had for you. Am I, in my subconscious, trying to send you a message by remembering your mom’s birthday? But that’s not me. It would have made sense if I were 14…

Also, it’s been ages and though I remember you with great fondness, I don’t, in any way, have any romantic feeling for you…

Why do I remember your mom’s birthday then?

Perhaps it has something to do with the way she is. It’s true that I do not know her well but the few times I came across her, she didn’t make me feel uncomfortable in any way. It never occured to me that there’s this lady who is pretending to be nice to me. She was sincerely sweet… And ummm, motherly?

I think this has left a certain impression on me – her being nice. Maybe it’s no big deal. Maybe that’s the way people are supposed to be. But to a guy from the village who was mocked and bullied alot, it meant a lot… 🙂

The hopeful side of me tries to believe that humans are inherently good. The cynical side shuts the hopeful side down. Your mom happens to be one of the few people from that town whom I like and respect. And so, I remember her birthday.

Damn! One passing question and I wrote an entire letter… Is this virus getting inside my head?

With love, hugs and other things,
P