Hola! Hope you're smiling :)
You are so beautiful, right from the T to the R. Beauty inhabits every bit of you, it surrounds you and fills the air above. Ours is a love story brought about by destiny and it began much before I set foot on you. I remember the first time I came across you as I researched about Georgina. It is beautiful that you have a Danish name and a Tamil name and the two sound lyrically marvellous – Tranquebar and Tharangambadi. It might seem like I love you for my love of the sea and possibly because I am not likely to have ever known of any town whose name translates to the ‘Land of the Singing Waves.’ I’d believe that if I didn’t know the truth. The truth is, I didn’t choose to fall in love with you – it just happened and I treasure this story as one of the most remarkable gifts of serendipity.
You drew Georgina with the sound of your waves which she captured in words and preserved for me to hear years later. I remember diving into the melody of your music and swimming in the notes of history and mystery that you are. I love the two sides of you – an intelligent Tamil scholar and a brave Danish sailor. The mood you invoke of a historical Tamil town as I walk the streets lined with houses built in Dravidian splendour mixes smoothly with the romantic imagination of tall and brave Danish sailors who once walked the same streets.
How do I know you so well Tranquebar? It must be a connection between our souls that makes me want to be a part of you, that makes me want to have a little house close to the sea and have a postal address with my name on the top line and ‘Tranquebar’ at the bottom:
House No: xx/xx/x-x
Tranquebar – 609313
That’s a dream and imagining a full address with no xxx or … but actual numbers and an actual address is beautiful enough to make me cry. I don’t know if my dreams will ever come true. But I won’t stop dreaming and wishing and wanting. I will not stop wishing to write from the sea-shore with the music of your waves in my ears and neither will I stop wishing to walk along the Danish Fort every evening nor of talking to Zieganbalg’s statue on pleasant mornings or celebrating Christmas at the Danish churches.
You, my dearest Tranquebar fill me with the most wonderful imagination. Is it really my imagination or is there any non-fictitious story connecting my imagination with the truth? Could it be possible that I once lived here and was in love with a Danish sailor – Christian Septimus was his name? And he was in love with me too. And he told me stories of the sea, of his sailing expeditions and I listened in awe and wonder. We adored each other and wished to elope to a far away land of beauty, peace, joy and love. Could it be true that I dreamt of sailing the seas with him, of escaping my bondage with land and letting my being float on the big seas? Could it be possible that somehow I couldn’t leave the land or my people behind and I broke Christian’s heart? Could it be that I am suffering the pain of betrayal and guilt and forlorn love to this day? Could it be that Christian will come back to me someday? Perhaps? Is this why I wish to marry here someday?
I may never know but the pain and beauty of this imagination and its possibility make me inseparable to you. I have a feeling only you know the truth. I wish I could tell you more about my dreams and longings but I believe you hear the voice of my heart, for now, I only wish to say that I love you.
Truly wishing all my dreams come true,