In the past few days I've been suffering from withdrawal symptoms. No, not alcohol or drug withdrawal symptoms. I'm referring to email. The so called "Love Letter" or "I Love You" computer virus has struck hard and there is no email across much of the country. Even the large computer services company I work for has shut down all its email servers to combat the "Love Letter" virus and its clones like the "Joke For You " virus. I've had no status reports, meeting requests, silly jokes or the odd personal mail to read for 48 hours. My free hotmail account is similarly junk mail free and I feel abandoned.

I have always considered myself somewhat old fashioned even though I work with computers every day. I felt I was the kind of person who could survive even without the benefit of modern comforts like telephones, gasoline, computers, VCRs, etc. A childhood and youth spent in a state nicknamed "Andhera Pradesh" by my father had prepared me for a life even without electricity. At college in India, I had spent many summers studying subjects like Electronic Circuits, AC Machines, and Power Electronics by candle light. I was too naive then to even appreciate the irony in the situation. Some years later, I went through a period of life when I had no television at home for eight months. I prided my self on the fact that I was not tempted by all the spectacular 36 inch TVs or the dainty 14 inch portable TVs winking at me in every shopping mall. It was my roommate who finally threw up her hands and brought home a TV. All of a sudden, now, thanks to the handiwork of some bored teenager in the Philippines, I am restless at work and home, unable to concentrate on anything. I just want to read some email.

Email is my lifeline. All my friends and most of my relatives keep me updated via email about weddings, babies, new homes, and even bore me with chain mails. Sometimes I get the same joke from 3-4 different people. I have huge mailing lists of friends and acquaintances to whom I send what I consider interesting articles about India, or pretty pictures of puppies. But, these 48 email free hours have reminded me of a time when email did not exist. Communication and staying in touch meant hand written letters.

When I was a little girl in school, we used to have "Letter Writing" as a special subject. In the late 1970s, the school I went to was still influenced heavily by the British school system. There was great stress on English Literature, Composition and Comprehension. But a well written letter was considered the epitome of writing in English. It is because of this British emphasis on letter writing and prompt replying that even today in India the mail trains like the Madras-Howrah Mail or the Kalka Mail are considered the most important trains in the Indian railway system. These trains are always given priority over others and efforts are made to keep them on schedule. I still remember the ruled notebook upon ruled note book that I practiced my letter writing in. My father used to give me additional exercises by asking me write letters to my grand parents in distant towns and villages.

My father did not like to waste a whole blue inland letter (which used to be much bigger in size than its current tiny counterpart) on my inconsequential scribblings about spelling tests, biscuit races, and stolen erasers. He would bring home pale yellow inland post cards, each worth fifteen paise. And it was my duty to pack as much information as possible on a 3 inch by 3 inch writing area all the while adhering to "Correct Letter Writing Standards". I would get delighted replies on foolscap sheets from one grandfather but the other grandfather gave me back in kind - 15 paise postcards. Nevertheless, it is amazing to me now how much happiness, love, fear, news and excitement can fit on a little postcard.

The post card is a favorite means of communication in small, dusty Indian villages even now. It no longer costs 15 paise but is still so cheap that the poorest villager can write a letter to someone he or she cares about. Even if the villager is illiterate, the village postman can function as a scribe and write some words on the back of a postcard on behalf of the villager. I know the government of India subsidizes the post card so that it stays cheap. But there is talk of changing the postal services. To make it more modern. To reduce subsidies. To convert a post office into a coffee bar or juice bar which, by the way, sells stamps. It makes me wonder about the future of written communication. How many of you reading this column have written a letter to someone recently? I mean actually putting pen to paper. I ask this question of many people I know.

The excuses are common - no time, but I use the telephone, I use email, I can't write about anything interesting, my handwriting is terrible, etc. I'm sure the same people who give reasons for why they don't write would be delighted to receive a hand written letter from someone. I have a feeling that the "Love Letter" virus spread so quickly because people were curious to see who was writing them a "Love Letter". Even if a person were to receive a real love letter by email, there is no guarantee that it will be around thirty years later for the person to read and smile about in his or her old age. The delete key is only one mouse click away. But a hand written love letter or even a post card - hey! toss it to the back of the closet and one can still take pleasure from it when one is seventy years old.

Writing a pleasant letter is an art but most people are satisfied to receive a letter even with a few lines describing the weather. It is the thought that counts. The feeling that somebody cares enough to make the effort. The effort of moving ones fingers to produce something as marvelous as writing. Even illegible hand writing. It takes patience and practice to be a good letter writer, but in today's world of instant communication, a bad writer is perfectly acceptable too.

As I sit on the couch trying to watch some inane TV show, my thoughts turn to an uncle, who passed away six months ago. He lived in Hyderabad and I live in USA. But we wrote letters to each other with great regularity. We would communicate about his job (as a lawyer in the Andhra high court), Indian politics, a sulking cousin, the weather, and sometimes he would tell me that my father missed me. I feel bad that I can no longer write to my uncle. My dad stopped writing to me a long time ago when the telephone made an entrance into our home in India. He sends me a birthday card every year. But I still miss the long missives he used to write me before the telephone was so cheap to use. He would write most of the letter in really small characters but always end with "a hug for you" in big huge ones. And they always brought tears in my eyes. He still says the same words on the telephone. However, once the phone is put down, the words are lost forever. The letters, I still read them over and over again. So, write someone a letter today. Or just use the postcard. That will do. If enough people write me postcards, I might even stop worrying about not receiving any email.

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