letters 2
[17/01, 09:18] Dhanwanti Rajwade:
((the Guest deeply inhaled the incense on the letter. The one thing that bothers her, is that she doesn't know how PeePeeDoc smells. She is animal-like in her construct of humans. She needs to know if they have broad hands, rough from hours of work, if her own tiny hands can fit into the PeePeeDoc hands, if he smells of Pears soap or an after shave, if he washes his beard with bath soap or shampoo. For now, she satisfies her curiousity, marrying the incense smell to his form, labelling it as "Smell 145633 PeePeeDoc".))
Dear PeePeeDoc,
How romantic that your father decided to marry your mother in a second!
How did you meet your wife? Was it love at first sight? Or was it engineered by the Spice Merchant?
What are you planning on doing this weekend? Any gorgeous walks through nature? Remember The Guest when you do so. Take an extra whiff of the soil and send it to her through your connecting karmic ties, because she is so far removed from these tiny slices of perfection.
She has one kid running Sports Day Heats, so will spend a bit of time with the other one after this case. Then it's Dr. modi and his long list from about 2-7pm....
She will re read these letters many times in the day. Each time savouring the language, the style, the wry humour and then mull over the content.
You will have to meet her either by rail, or by a giant metal ship in the sky, i don't know when that will be. But when it does happen, give her a bottle of your smell, so she can take a whiff whenever she opens the letters.
(The two teenagers wipe the tears out from their eyes. They met on tinder you see. They didn't have any time to smell each other and haven't still gotten around the last names. They have reach fourth base though, and are already dreaming of the next swipe)
(the Guest begins her long vigil at Bhatia Hospital, a small charitable hospital in St. Petersburg, the vigil consists of many steps. First one being: Waiting for Count Malav, first Earl of Colabosky, then once he comes, a furious flurry of taking the patients in and rapidly inducing and finishing the cases. He is a surgeon who doesn't pause for breath. In the time that he scratches his beard, he expects me to know his next thought and keep the patient ready, the instruments in order, and the irrigation plugged in. But she has been with him for 8 years now, and they have settled into a equilibrium: some days they bicker, somedays they are very close. Overall, he's someone she can count on, and that's always a blessing.))
Dear PeePeeDoc,
Music is a powerful tool. It can transform lives and change the landscape of a place. Travel on that same train from home to Sopore (you will find this charming place on your mission to India) and listen to Tchaikovsky's piano concert no 1. And then do the same journey listening to music from the future by Miss Adele (not from aristocracy), and then listen to Rihaana another figment of my imagination, and the entire terrain is transformed.
I'm so so sorry to hear of your sea sickness. If 100 days at sea will get you so sick, you will find the journey to Volgograd even more arduous. So I must tell you about my musical journey. To be very honest, my birth was not met with jubilation, not even many congratulations. I was the second daughter born a year after the first, and was everything she was not. She was fair, cherubic with light eyes. I was dark, with a mass of curly hair and brown eyes. Worse than that, far worse than that, i came out without the most valuable appendage that my mother had prayed dearly for. It was a twist of fate that out ancestral trust had only make heirs mentioned in the inheritance, and with this lack of a firm male organ, my father saw his fortunes dwindling before his eyes. My maternal grandmother had reassured them that another child would come along soon, but my mother held me close and whispered that i was her super special baby forever. But as childhood was in those days, a series of experiences of collateral damage from parental ignorance, (they never planned holidays or meals where the kids wouldnt get bored, like we tend to) I grew up nameless and faceless, but pathologically happy and optimistic, as is my disposition. I was in the shadow of a very brilliant and beautiful older sister. She played the piano, so I played the piano. She played badminton, so I played badminton, she came first in class, I never came first in class. And so I stayed happily faceless because I never knew what it was like to be noticed, till one day a famous Pianist Pervez Modi accidentally came to our house. Amidst much fanfare he named me as the more talented daughter and said i had a great future in music. That, my dearest PeePeeDoc changed my life as I knew it. I found my ikigai. (A Japanese word i believe, learnt it from my bone setter who also sells pearls.) It set me free. It become the lamp i longed for, the harder I rubbed it, the magical was the result. And so practice practice practice released genie after genie until I was caught in a swirl of music and imagination. It blew my mind! I started getting noticed in school, by family and friends alike, and suddenly realised there were people around me who also felt happy listening to the sounds that emerged from the lamp. My sister, it must be mentioned, stopped playing the piano shortly after that.
And so PeePeeDoc, this is the genesis of my music side.
I await your reply. It brightens my day.
With chattering teeth because the temperature right now (in this capsule called an OT, in the castle) is 17 degrees,
The Guest.