“What a classic win!” Devika declared as she walked in. In jeans and a flamboyant orange woollen top, she looked slick.
“Fantastic!” Jatin agreed.
“Only, I wish they wouldn’t spoil the win by creating sound and air pollution,” Sonia remarked. “I wonder where they produce these crackers from, at the drop of a ball?”
“Boss,” her assistant explained with forced patience, “they keep a stock ready, specially for the matches”
“Really? What foresight!” his Boss replied, with a grimace.
Devika laughed. “Cricket and Hindi films are the twin hearts of our country!”
“You said it!” Jatin agreed, heartily.
“Are you terribly busy right now?” Devika asked Sonia, on a more serious note.
“The match is over, the emails are gone, and Nidhi is sleeping.” Sonia smiled.
“Good. Because I want to ask you to do me a favour,” Devika said.
“Sure! Let’s go into my office.”
Devika followed her into the inner office. There, she delved into her handbag and extracted an ornate wooden box with a tiny latch on it. The detective eyed it curiously, but kept silent.
“About a year ago my grandmother expired. She lived alone here, in Pune. She was a very grand lady, strong and courageous. She raised my mother and her brother single- handedly because my grandfather expired very early in her life. Anyway, I was cleaning up the attic some months ago and discovered this box.” Devika thrust forward the carved box. “Go ahead, open it.”
Sonia did as she was told. The box was of good wood, the polish gone but the carving still ornate and excellent. She raised the lid. A sheaf of papers, rolled up and held securely by a faded, red satin ribbon, lay inside.
“They are letters written by my grandmother to a friend. Letters which apparently she never posted, for some private reason. I read them. They are all addressed to a very close male friend and I feel it’s my duty to hand him his property. When you read them, you’ll understand what I mean.”
“You want me to read these?”
Devika nodded. “Not only do I want you to read them, I’d be grateful if you could locate this man for me, because Id feel so much better when I hand those letters over to him.”
Sonia glanced at the box and touched the letters. She was reluctant to read someone’s private thoughts, especially those of an old lady. It was like invading someone’s sacred space and polluting it.
“Are you sure you want me to go through them? Can’t you just tell me what’s in them? And we’ll try to find this man?”
“It’s not that simple. I know it’s a little awkward reading private mail. I felt some qualms, too. But I brushed them aside and I’m glad I did. My grandmother is no more, but she has left behind a task for me to complete. If I hadn’t read these papers, I would never have known why it was so important that they reach her friend.”
“If you’re so sure…”
“Oh yes, I’m positive this is the only way. And that you’re the only one who can do this for me. I would have never allowed a stranger to read those letters. It’s you I trust.”
“Thank you,” Sonia replied, simply. “I’ll go through them tonight and let you know what will be my course of action”
“Great!”
Sonia spread the letters, each written on different letter pads, almost all of them fancy. There were five letters, all beautifully written, in different shades of blue ink. They spanned a period of almost twenty years, and despite herself, Sonia experienced a tingling of anticipation.
The night was cold and she wrapped herself in the warm woollen blanket and picked up the first letter.
1968, Pune
Dear Asit,
I had to write you this letter, specially after what happened last night. I have been a fool!
I know that I admitted it to you! Admitted that I loved you. Against all my resolve and good sense! How could I? Love is not for the likes of me. And specially not for us. I am writing this to you because I know that I shall never have the courage to say it to your face. This is wrong. Nothing can come out of this. I have two children and they have only me. I know that you’ll say you’ll help me raise them. But you are little more than a kid yourself! There, I said it! I spoke about the huge age difference between us - twenty years! God, you are old enough to be my son! I feel awful ever encouraging you! I can hear you say age makes no difference in love, but it does. And even though my kids love you, society would never accept a relationship like ours. I have faced too much in life and behaved very rashly - rebelled against a stifling lifestyle, eloped, and went against every tradition set down by my “great family”! But I can’t do this. For a while, swept away in fairy-tale love, I really thought that I could. But I forgot one important thing. I am a mother now. I can’t do anything that would put my children to shame. That is why I must ask you to leave. I know this is awful and that you have been wonderful to me. You’ve been a good paying guest and I shall have to begin hunting for another tenant. But this can go no further.
Please go away and never come back, if you really and truly do love me!
Tara.
Sonia paused, replacing the letter on the table. Such strong emotions, riddled with guilt. But the letter had never been posted.
