The Weight of a Letter

THE WEIGHT OF A LETTER

4/20/2026

THE WEIGHT OF A LETTER
A Return To Words That Don't Disappear
Exclusive Interview with Daak Chithi
Featured in 'Global Good'
Hosted by Erin India

In a time when most of our communication happens through screens, Daak Chithi is working to slow down and bring people back to something more human: handwritten letters. What began as a personal discovery has grown into a cross-border initiative creating spaces for connection, reflection, and honest conversation through writing.

I spoke with members of the Daak Chithi team about how the project began, the emotions people express when they write by hand, and what they hope the future holds for this growing community.

ERIN: Can you start by telling us about the project and how it came about?

RAMEEN: The idea of Daak Chithi came about when we realised that writing had become almost archaic when it came to community and connection. We wanted to bring that back to the people around us and into the spaces that make up our communities.

It became a means not just of communication, but also advocacy for causes that were close to our hearts. Now we’re operating across several countries and working with ambassadors in different regions. I’m the country director for Pakistan, while Murshid does similar work in Bangladesh. I was asked to build a team here, and I knew of Mahnoor and her connection to poetry, so I brought her on as a curator.

We’re all writers from different backgrounds and different worlds, but we’re deeply connected through this cause.

MAHNOOR: At the moment we’re in a bit of a pause. Our last event was in December and the winter months were slower. It’s Ramadan right now, so after Eid we’re planning something new. Rameen and I are hoping to host something in Lahore as well. Right now our team is based in Islamabad, but Lahore is a much stronger cultural hub, so it feels like a natural place to expand. We’ve had such a lovely response. A lot of people feel frustrated by everything being digital now. They’re drawn to analogue things, to vintage experiences. It’s something we really look forward to, and it keeps us going.

ERIN: In a world of instant messages and social media, what do handwritten letters offer that digital communication often cannot?

RAMEEN: From the beginning, the idea of intimacy really can’t be replicated digitally. We organised an event centred around grief where we worked with midwives from Sindh. We sat together and explored grief, loss, love, and the experience of bringing new life into the world. We received such beautiful responses and so many different perspectives on emotion.

Those small emotional details eventually grow into deeper feelings, and I feel like that kind of experience is difficult to create in digital spaces. It happens through something as tender and intimate as writing letters.

MAHNOOR: At one of our events in a library in Islamabad, one participant wrote a letter to his lover. We invited a few people to read their letters out loud. When he read his, it was such an intimate, personal moment. It felt almost like we were looking directly into his emotions. It felt forbidden to hear what he spoke.

He was actually shivering while he read it. You could feel what he felt when he wrote it.

As a curator, I still have many of the letters people wrote at our events. When you read them on your own, you feel the sadness, the grief, the emotion they’ve written down. The way the words are scribbled and formed, the way they’re written, you can even sense the hesitation in the writing.

It’s such an intimacy that you don’t find in digital life. When you’re typing, communication is quick and impulsive. With letters, there is patience. You know the words will stay, so you think carefully about what you’re writing. It’s like a beautifully crafted emotion, you just let people see what’s in your soul and your heart. It’s cathartic and so personal.

RAMEEN: There’s a beautiful sense of humanness to writing letters. I don’t think it can be replicated through anything else. Sitting down, practising patience and letting those pauses come to you in all their awkwardness. People need to know that it’s okay to feel things fully, in all their essence.

ERIN: Many people say modern communication is fast but emotionally shallow. Do you see Daak Chithi responding to a deeper emotional need in society?

RAMEEN: Yes, definitely. A lot of people feel disconnected even though we’re constantly communicating online. When people come to our events, they realise they can slow down and express themselves in a deeper way.

Another thing we’ve noticed is that many people think they need to be writers or poets to participate, but that’s not true. The simple ability to read and write is enough. There’s a lot of poetry in just being human.

Watching people discover that for themselves has been really powerful.

MAHNOOR: So many people come in saying they can’t write, but once you give them a pen, paper, and a prompt, they don’t stop. Some people end up writing three-page letters even though they were unsure at the beginning. It’s really beautiful to see that happen.

ERIN: What were some of the biggest challenges you faced when you first launched Daak Chithi?

RAMEEN: One of the hardest things has been understanding where to begin and where to stop, because our community touches so many different experiences and emotions, so many different wounds that need catering to. There are many stories and many perspectives, you learn a lot from it.

Another challenge was helping people understand that going back to older practices is okay. Getting this stigma out of the conversation allows you to go back in time and practice tradition in a way that feels real and true to you. Some people questioned whether this kind of project could be sustainable or long-term. Proving that over time, one project at a time, has been important.

MAHNOOR: At first we thought we might not have many participants, but in some events we ended up with people waiting in line. We even had to create waiting lists for people who wanted to write letters or share poems. At one event we brought typewriters as well, and people were amazed that people still use them. It became part of the experience.

A challenge we noticed was that people sometimes struggled with vulnerability. When you’re writing a message online, you can edit or rely on predictive text. Writing by hand requires you to sit with your thoughts and choose your words carefully.

RAMEEN: A lot of people think they need to be a writer or a poet to come and write, but through the process, we saw people step into that space naturally. It’s amazing to watch people come into their poethood. It was almost like watching a transformation happen in front of us. All they needed was a pen, a paper and a prompt. Some of them ended up writing 3 page letters.

ERIN: Daak Chithi has now grown from Bangladesh to Pakistan. How has this cross-border collaboration shaped the project and its community?

RAMEEN: It has shaped the project in a very meaningful way. We all come from different creative backgrounds, but we’re connected through the same purpose of bringing people together through writing. Working across countries has helped us understand how universal these emotions and experiences are. It also shows how important community spaces like this can be.

MAHNOOR: It has also created real friendships. People attend events and realise that someone else has experienced something similar to them. That connection is very powerful. Another important part is preservation. Many families might throw old letters away without realising their value, but letters can last for generations. They hold memories in a way that digital communication sometimes doesn’t.

ERIN: For the team members hosting letter-writing events, what have you noticed about the emotions people choose to express when they write by hand? Have there been any moments that really stayed with you?

RAMEEN: At our workshops, we usually begin with a very simple prompt: “How are you really?” I learned this from a facilitator who once led a workshop I attended. Starting with such an open question gives people space to reflect honestly. Even if they don’t follow the other prompts, they can always return to that one.

Sometimes people write about things completely unrelated to the prompts, and that’s completely fine. The goal is simply to create a space where people feel comfortable sharing.

MAHNOOR: One of the most beautiful things we’ve seen is people writing letters to themselves. It’s something many people don’t normally do openly. Often these are thoughts that stay hidden in journals or remain unspoken. When people write them out, it feels like they are releasing something they’ve been holding onto.

ERIN: Looking ahead, what role do you hope Daak Chithi will play in helping people reconnect, communicate more deeply, and heal through writing?

RAMEEN: We have many ideas for the future, and they continue to evolve. We want to organise more workshops and expand collaborations with organisations and communities around us.

We also believe letter writing can be a form of advocacy. In today’s world, many people feel like they don’t have a voice. Writing can help change that.

At its core, Daak Chithi is about giving people a platform where they can express things they might not otherwise say. It’s about allowing people to feel and communicate in a way that feels authentic to them.

We’re also looking at expanding projects that bring letter writing into schools and communities where young people might not normally have access to spaces like this.

As Daak Chithi continues to grow across borders and communities, its message remains simple but powerful: slowing down to write, reflect, and connect can open conversations that fast communication often leaves behind. In a world where messages disappear quickly, a handwritten letter can still carry emotion, memory, and meaning that lasts. ∎