Dear Rusty,
The days here are rainy and mild,
with clouds gently rolling in like old friends. The hills, I imagine, must be
humming their own quiet song in Dehra. There’s something about this weather
that reminds me of the ripple effect you often speak of — the way kindness
travels, quietly but surely. Lately, I’ve begun to see it not just as an idea,
but in action, shaping little moments around me.
You always say, Rusty, that we
must hope for the best — and I hold on to that thought now more than ever. I
believe that hope, when nurtured, grows into meaningful change. And with steady
focus on the positive and a silent prayer, I trust we’re being guided in the
right direction, towards outcomes we may not yet see, but surely await.
I’ve been rereading “The Room on
the Roof”, and it takes me back to your youthful wanderings — the monsoon
rains, the friendships, the search for freedom and belonging. And just the
other day, I came across “Rusty and the Leopard”. That story reminded me how
even wild, unpredictable encounters — like yours with the leopard — can be
strangely tender and transformative, much like life itself.
For as long as I can remember,
I’ve dreamt of visiting Dehra — to walk those rain-washed streets, listen to
the wind through the trees, and feel that quiet, comforting sense of belonging
you often write about. It’s a place that lives in your stories and has quietly
taken root in my imagination. I hope one day, I’ll find myself there — maybe
even under the same skies you once looked up at.
Do write to me whenever you find
time. And please, share more about Dehra — the trees, the breeze, the old
bookshops and bazaars, the familiar lanes and silent corners. I’d love to walk
through your world again, even if only through your words.
With warmth and hope,
ASN
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