Human touch

Suqu and a softer universe

The first sense to ignite, touch is the last to burn out: long after our eyes betray us, our hands remain faithful to the world. … in describing such final departures, we often talk of losing touch." — Frederick Sachs

My grand aunt was 89 years old. Let’s call her the Sudoku Queen or Suqu. She had fallen, and was injured. I’d met her during the days when she was in great pain. I’d held her hand, thinking about all that her hands have gone through. Every crease and vein were like pathways to her experiences. She would love it when I caressed her forehead and would ask me to never stop. In that moment, I learned how important touch was.

I remember moments when she would come home and tell me stories when I was younger. I don’t quite remember what they were about, but I would keep asking her to recite more. During Ganesh Visarjan, we would stand in the balcony of her home at Opera House in Mumbai to watch every unique Ganesh idol pass by with glory. Every time I would see her, she’d be wearing her saree and spectacles, carefully examining something in the newspaper. It was the Sudoku puzzle. When I asked her why she loved it so much, she said that it was helping her in keeping her memory sharp. She was incredibly good at it. She was once a math teacher, so I guess that made her a natural. It’s ironic how technology makes things efficient but makes us use a very smaller portion of our brain — leaving it to slowly degenerate. She passed away very recently, leaving behind many lessons and her love. Trading technology for touch — this I learnt from her.

Digital interfaces like touchscreens offer a desensitized touch, which can disconnect us from rich tactile experiences — The Guardian

Touch, out of all the senses is the most intimate. In the pursuit of work, it is possible to disconnect from it. Our brain while focusing on the tasks forgets the clothes on the skin, the fabric of the chair underneath, and a lot of times, human touch. The things that actually ground us, are taken for granted or overlooked. It is scary to think about a universe where there are no two people hugging and the analog world is fading.

The touch of a stone on my palm, the touch of feet on grass, the touch of paper of my favourite book, the touch of my mother’s hands is the soft universe I crave when our minds turn wicked and hard in the process of labour. I hope we never lose touch from touch itself.

Thank you for reading this short letter! It holds many of my fears and reminds me to hold my loved ones close.

I’ll see you next week :)

-J