Khairiyat Poocho, Kabhi Toh Kaifiyat Poocho. //caption. Dear letter, Yesterday , when I opened the old wardrobe I saw you there and I heard you mumbling 'Khairiyat poocho, kabhi toh kaifiyat poocho', hearing this my heart started bleeding with painful tears, which fell on you and you scented nostalgia. That nostalgia which was lost in daily hustle bustle and those modern means of communication, which ease our busiest life. But I'm now moaning that how I forgot you. You were the one with which my father had attachment. He kept you with much cares. Rather he taught me how to write you, how you are significant. At that time I wasn't much interested in writing you. My interest became buoyant when in movies I saw the hero writing letters to the heroine. And I still remember the signature, which was merely simply written words and not the cursive one, I used to do at every end of you. I loved to use that blue inked pen the most to write you. And you looked gorgeous with my handwriting and the blue ink. And you know, I loved your types the more. I was first mesmerized by your modern look, in which you were not the pages but you took the form of emails. I thought it was the best way to reduce the use of paper.
