Dear Valley,
I have thought of you very often - in rain, song, silence, and prayer. I have longed for the wide open arms of ancient trees to cope with the collective loss that has befallen us. On many days, standing in my balcony, I closed my eyes to escape this large, lost city - to go back to walks in the forest under watercolour skies; evenings ushered in by the breeze; listening to the gentle whispers of Gulmohar trees; farewell notes of birds…but it's all a fleeting memory.
Time is an inadequate measure of intimacy. The short span in Valley was a capacious cauldron that overflowed with treasures - relationships, tunes, trails - that have kept me going, and remain a huge source of strength even now. You held and healed me at a time when I perhaps needed it the most, and I'm eternally grateful to you for opening my heart and mind to a very different rhythm. I arrived at your door as a young research student, was nurtured as a teacher, and left as a lifelong learner, yearning to come back to you again and again.
On your birthday, there is not one memory, but many - condensed into the mundane but enchanting mosaic of everyday life - that I call upon to celebrate. A day in the life at Valley is like an old Dev Anand song, made up of the perfect amounts of conviviality, joy, perspective, reflection, rootedness, and philosophy.
Here's wishing you a very happy birthday with a composition dear to me that speaks of a reunion (वस्ल) that has been long overdue.
Love,
Abismrita