NEPENTHE

A Love Letter

Dear Jameela,

I know, I know. This is quite unexpected. Not to mention, illogical. I mean, we live in the same house. Why on earth would I have to write a letter to you? Well, today, I feel like my wife deserves more than an instant message.

You know, writing on a paper seems so....unfamiliar to me right now. We're all so hooked to e-mails and IMs that the art of letter writing is dying slowly, waiting for euthanasia. But to me, e-mails will never really replace a good old-fashioned love letter. I mean, you can hold a love letter. You can kiss it. You can trace the handwriting with the tip of your finger. You can hold it close to your face and sniff the perfume of your love. (Yes, you guessed it, that Addiction perfume you got me)

Remember how we used to write love letters all the time in high school? Anagha would pass it over to Kiran who would pass it over to me. And then back. And you always signed it with little pink hearts at the bottom and your name in that neat, gorgeous handwriting of yours. I still have no clue how you managed to decipher my handwriting ( the illegible scribbles of a dyslexic boy in love) but you did. And that was when I knew you were the one for me. And do you remember when the English teacher caught us and read our notes aloud? Most embarrassing moment of our life, no contest.

I can picture you reading this, a glowing smile on your face, your hair in a bun, wearing a white coat, as you lean back against the counter of your Pathology lab. Holding this letter gingerly in one hand while the other gloved hand holds a.... A vein? A Lung? Soaked in formalin.

(It's surprising, you know, that your morning sickness doesn't act up at the smell of formalin, which makes me want to throw up. I guess that's how much you love your job.)

And that brings me to why I'm writing this letter. I know that you're going through a hard time. I know you're tired. I know that the morning sickness is making it hard for you to work. I know your boss yelled at you for for not examining all of the specimens and leaving behind a few slides unlabelled. I know that you're starving, but you're too afraid to eat for fear of bringing it back up again. I know that you are crying when you think I'm asleep, because you're afraid of what's coming. Of tomorrow. Of that frightening word- 'the future'.

But I want you to know. I'm here for you. And everything will be okay. Even the darkest night ends and dawn will bloom, like a fragrant jasmine, chasing away the stench of darkness and despair. And if you ever need to cry, or vent or scream, I'm right here. I will sit with you in the darkness and we'll watch the sunrise together. And the baby will come. More responsibility and more work, I know, but also more joy.I will always be there for you. Because when I married you, I made a promise to Allah and to your family that I would take care of you.

I love you, Jameela. More than I can ever express.

Hoping you'll come home soon. A certain lonely engineer really misses you.

Love,

Akbar

P.S. try to come home by 8. Okay? It's very important.

P.P.S. Okay, I can't do this. I'm not good with surprises. I always blurt it right out, because I just can't stand the Tension. There's a candle-lit dinner waiting for you at home. So pleasepleaseplease make it by 8. I promise, no fish dishes!

Thanks for reading!!!