Block

It's been quite a while since I wrote something [blogs be exempted]. The last piece that I wrote and finished with visible satisfaction was an article on our trekking through the dense forested mountains of lower hill tracts, in Bandarban and Rangamati. I was so exhilarated after finishing the whole thing, it exceeded 20,000 bangla words, but thousands more could be written on that wonderful, extraordinary, memorable adventure. I mailed it to almost everyone, people I know, people I hardly know, and even to people I never expect to know. However, the sheer size of the article was repulsive enough not to be read, let alone enjoyed. Only some of them bookworms went all the way through ... and man, I'm honored with their reactions. Their is no greater joy when your lecteur appreciates you. I could feel the pleasure my parents experienced when people used to praise one of their children.

However, I couldn't write since October 2004. The pause seems long enough to get bored to me ... but I don't know why I don't write any more. I have enough time, have the strength to do more hectic things, but whenever I sit in front of my pc and open MS Word to write something, I feel drained ... drained off my energy. Is that what people call writers' block?

But I want to write something ... perhaps a letter to my sis. When I was a kid, I used to write lumps of letter to her, pages after pages, big heaps of complaints and reports and demands, but never posted them. She would visit us whenever the faintest leave she got from DMC, and I showed her all the letters I wrote, and usually was quite imperative to have all of them read by her. In fact she's the only person I ever wrote letters to. And she read them, each and every one of them, one by one, words after words, never missed the nuance ... she was the best reader I could have at that moment.

After the advent of emails, perhaps I performed the greatest of sighs of relief. I simply couldn't write a letter. Now I have got email and I can exchange messages without the heavy responsibility to shoulder ... to write a good letter that would be pleasant enough to be read. And that's what I do, I write small, concise mails, and never can express anything soft, delicate feeling. And the hell with it, I am relieved not to do so.

Anyway, it's not like that, that I don't get letters from others. I usually do, and simply love to read them. There's something so sensual about opening an envelope, before that checking out the stamps glued to it, unfolding the letter, starting to read, smelling it twice or thrice ... an email is no match for a letter. The last time had such a nice one, it was from México, from one of my nicest friends.

Anyway, I'll write a letter soon to my elder sis ... I have become Mamoo again, and I want to congratulate her with a nice letter, that I'll be writing to her after sixteen years.