Dreams are renewable. No matter what our age or condition, there are still untapped possibilities within us and new beauty waiting to be born.

-Dale Turner-

Tuesday, 12 January, 2010

An open letter to Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

Dear Chitra,

Yesterday night, I had to stop reading Sister of My Heart many a time... for the tears and the lines that were swimming.

As I read them, it feels like reading thoughts, words and phrases from my head. It feels like scenes from my childhood were made into this movie.

I have watched the tamil soap, Anbulla Snehithi, adapted from your book. But nothing prepared me for the narratives Basudha carries in her head. I carry them too. Without the good looks and the secret weighing like lead.

My plot is more complex, no rubies to detest, but emotions and sentiments I cannot define. And we are fluid, morphing every moment from Anjali to Sudha and back again. And the story is still unfolding.

So I put down the book where Sudha and Ashok passionately kiss each other... a happy thought I can fall asleep with. For who knows what the Bidhata Purush has written?

But Chitra, how did you know:
of sisters of the heart,
of guilt and shame and
trying to make up... because,
your dad ought to have done more,
and of making your only wish for your sister.

can writers imagine so much,
from the cameos they have of people,
of how exactly silences hurt,
and fogs that suffocate...

When you visit Madras, we must meet Chitra. And you must then tell me, the story of the sister of your heart.
- the window siller



My nephew is a slothbear