Bidding Adieu

Stroke by Stroke


To my best piece,
A tiny corner,
Not-so-famous gallery,
Around the corner.

I may not have been able to get you into a high & mighty, pretentious gallery like the future paintings but you will be the one who will make it possible for me and for that I am thankful. I could not spend much time with you for which I am sorry but you must realize that I spent so much time in creating you that I had to part with you or face starvation.

However, I put far more work into you than the others. I faced many sleepless nights trying to make you perfect. You may be more flawed than you may like but I now accept you just the way you are. I faced harsh criticism from others who thought they knew better despite not having held a brush in years. I argued with them and you will be pleased to know you did not become “Modern Art”.
I spared no expense in making you the best art piece I ever created. The canvas was better than your predecessors; even the colors I used were more expensive than a week’s food of what I ate. In the end, you turned out okay I guess (Who am I kidding? You’re fantastic). I’m sorry that we must part on such terms but it was necessary for me to write this letter because I am an artist who must constantly do weird things to vent frustration.

Oh and you are my child, given the above letter and the things that I did for you…Hope you’re cool with it. What are you doing this weekend? Maybe we could hang out at your gallery.


                                                        From your parent,
                                                      A now-famous-artist.

-Rtr. Deval Savla






The Last Melody

Dear Paul Jr.,

I vividly remember the first time I held you in my hand. And now, the last moment has finally descended upon us. I have to part with you but you will never part with our great family legacy.

I was merely eight when my grandfather gave me you. My grandfather, after whom I named you, was a phenomenal guitarist. You were the only guitar he used, all throughout his career. His love for music was devotional, but, even he stumbled along the path to success. You have seen his slow rise as well as his steep fall. Distraction was what led him astray. The distraction caused by wild, overnight, fame.

Together, you and I, have strung countless memories. I learned how to use you, you learned how to guide me to become better. I won my first singing competition with you. I won my first award with you. You taught me how to be patient, how to be dedicated and also, how to love truly. You are my first love and it is so strange that it was, after all, you, who helped me win over my last. I still remember how I sang my first ever self-written love song to her. It was written for her. But the melody was meant for you. She had said yes and that, I consider, is our most prized achievement.

I am not leaving my musical career behind. Music for me is not a profession, it is my most basic desire. I am parting with you because it is time for me, to pass you on to my daughter. You are going to feel a feminine touch for the first time and trust me, it will have more depth any other. So, farewell my faithful friend. You are going to remain in my heart, forever. We still have one last song together tonight and we are going to make it the most beautiful performance we ever gave.

Love,
Michael

-Rtr. Esha Mehta






Same Old, Same New


Dear my old self,
Popularly called ‘Bully’,

Long-time no see huh? God, you were so loved in your prime. I never understood why they let you go. Aren’t Millennials getting dubious by the second? Changing meanings of words and doing away with terms of endearments? You were once used to address a nice, good fellow or maybe a darling person, a century later you’re used for those who harm and mocks the weak. (Aren’t you almost being bullied?)

“Change” is such a scary word. It signifies difference, it signifies novelty. At most times, nobody really accepts change so amicably but then again, they also say that change is good. It's unnerving, isn’t it? How things and people just ‘change’, as if one day they just woke up, completely forgot about their origins and transformed into something different, something new and maybe something refreshing. At times, it makes you confused, like you’re almost suffering from an identity crisis. As if you’re literally contemplating your role, meaning, and existence in the society.
Ah, it feels as if it was just yesterday when my best friend ‘Rubber’ woke up to find that he, from being slip-on boots had become a device to control mistakes made by children in their notebooks. Now he knows he’s not just used to control mistakes made by children, adults need him too, so that they don’t make ‘mistakes’. (idk what that means. I’m totally innocent.) Oh, and ‘Fantastic’ was something that only existed in someone’s imagination. Now it refers to something super amazing!

But then, what is the big deal? Nothing lasts forever. Nothing gold can stay. Today I am used to defining such a condescending person, tomorrow, or maybe the day after; I may not exist in the dictionary at all. The uncertainty is the gift but also the curse of being young. It’s the YOLO take on life in the terms of my generation.
As an after-thought, I have realized that we are like Yin and Yang, a starting point of change. Complete and polar opposites, yet so interdependent and so interconnected.

By the way, don’t you think this letter is just ‘fantastic’? I am actually writing a letter to my 16th-Century self. Wacky, right?

From your now-popular version,

Bully.

-Rtr. Pooja Sharma






The Reflection of a Fight


To Major-General Huang,

This is the third war I’ve fought in my lifetime.
They say time heals everything, it gets easier. But you and I both know that when we walk out onto that battlefield, the hurt is never any less painful. Both of us can argue the reasons behind waging this war for hours on end knowing very well the real story- the failure of diplomacy and the impatience of our governments. A handful of men in suits, an order, an attack and out go a hundred thousand men in uniforms, carrying courage, purpose, and fearlessness. Listen to me, I must sound so naïve, fully aware of the fact that war becomes an unwanted move in tensed situations; aware of how sometimes violence is the only answer you’re left with.

My reason for writing you wasn’t to talk about war and its dynamics. This is my apology. I know for a fact that we regret every tact we’ve used because it only meant more death, more family members getting their loved ones in caskets, more agony. I walk into the hospital and for a minute I can only stare, feeling heavy with responsibility and guilt and the smiles my men still manage to wear. So today, I apologize for all the suffering I inflicted on you and your brave men.

Major General T. Sherman once said, “War is cruelty. The crueler it is; the sooner it will end.” So, this is my gratitude. Gratitude for pushing for peace just as vigorously as I did. Gratitude for understanding the urgent need for a solution, especially after the battle of the 12th. So today, I thank you. This is also my goodbye. I hope to never have to meet like this again. I hope to wake in better tomorrows. I hope the next time we step foot in your country, it will to marvel at it instead of laying it in ruins. I hope the next time we see each other, we don’t.

So today, mere hours before I walk into that room to sign that treaty, I want to say this- I’m sorry, thank you and farewell.

From,
Major- General Adams.

-Rtr. Sakshi Desai







A Rosy Affair

Dearest finesse,
                      An interesting journey, wasn't it? I clearly remember the first day I brought you from the nursery - a tiny little pale green sapling with less than a few leaves - and now, well your blossoms say it all! As I bid my final adieu to you and your gloriously flowering hues of pink and red, I do have a few last words. You've been a source of great ecstasy, some consternation, a little pride and above all, a great life lesson.

 In the beginning, I questioned myself numerous times if all the effort I put in; if all the time I'd invested was worth it after all, but all my doubts were overpowered by the joy that erupted within me when I saw your first bloom bursting open - like fireworks - celebrating the pleasant spring sunshine. It showed me that something so beautiful would require a lot from us. And as my obsession for you grew by the day, the more you became a metaphor for everything.

Your roses were of incredible beauty, delighting the senses in so many ways. But despite this alluring charm, they've been very painful to harvest. But enduring the pain of thorns is worth it for the accomplishment of seeing them adorn those bouquets is priceless. You've brought great purpose and happiness to my life and it is a matter of great pride to me, that MY roses are going to bring smiles to many, many people they're passed on to - so I'm passing it on - my felicity. Go on and spread your cheer and glee as people celebrate all the goodness and love in this world.

 Like all beauty will wear out, yours will eventually too. Your brilliant red will turn brown, your lush petals will wither away and like every living being, you will return to dust, but you will forever be remembered in the memories and moments we cherish that you so fondly made special.

Yours lovingly,
A novice of your lessons

-Rtr. Hrishita Bapuram




The End of the Game


Dear Criminal,

                     Today, as I stand here, waiting for your execution tomorrow, I feel elated, proud but sad. You and I were the only ones who understood the thrill of the game we played. There was a certain amount of fun in our cat and mouse chase, don’t you think? The number of times I cornered you and you managed to evade me by the skin of your teeth!  Not this time. This time, I saw right through your foolproof plan and tore it at the seams. Still, there are a few things you should know.

Firstly, I applaud you. Your administration, planning and the flawless execution left me speechless. You are shrewd, calculating and cold when it comes to getting what you want. I saw that when you killed your childhood friend, without a glint of regret in your eyes. There aren’t many who can own up to those kinds of skills. It takes a lot to become a detective but it takes even more to become a criminal.

Had I not been on the side of the righteous, I don’t think that I would have succeeded in catching you. For truth be told, you’re cleverer and better at this than me. You were my biggest challenge and I still bear venomous hatred towards you but I also grudgingly respect you. We may have different value systems, my friend, but the one thing no one can understand is this lovely game. We were walking on fire, running on ice and hunting like beasts. Living on the ‘no second chances’ rule. I would be lying if I said bidding adieu to those experiences, and to you, would not be letting go a big part of my life. So, these are my last words to you.

I hope death sates your craving for peace the that you never found alive.

Your Captor.


-Rtr. Arpita Ramdoss





















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