Dear Mrs Shah,

“Beyond the crimson horizon of dying sun, he couldn’t find the calm of the evenings. The world may echo his words in laughs , he lay silently besides the echoes of his thoughts. How far has he come? The word of calm seemed longed enough, the words never wrote itself with a pen. Was he fading away from the calls of his destined truth , soaring towards the epitome of dying lies. In the path of forgetting her , he lost his way home.”

Dear Mrs Shah,

How are you? It seems quite weird that I haven’t asked you from a while, how is your health? Never asked you, did the pain in your knee vanish ? Did the medicines help? It’s so ironical that you know everything that is happening in my life , even the watch on my side table which I always forget. Running after me for that morning breakfast that I keep on skipping. I hardly remember when did I last asked you , did u have your breakfast ?

Sometimes it makes me think, just because one person left my side, just because one relation chose to find it’s joy in the world , I just started doubting every bond which I ever had. I crept silently within the dark corners hiding in me. I had just forgotten how irrelevant all those lies were. I chose to shut the doors to every emotion which made me fragile, not understanding that your being was the only thing that could hold me together.

I don’t remember when was the last time I sat and heard you well. I have no idea how long has it been since I asked you how was I looking ? I forgot to notice the smile on your face just to make me laugh a little. When was the last time I told you that you’re the prettiest? I don’t even know which song do you like to listen & how much do you miss hearing my weird words? I just forgot it all.

As people chose their family I just forgot to find mine.

It’s already 2:30 in the morning as I write to you & the only thing that crosses my mind is how can be such a ungrateful hypocrite. As I was drowning in my own memories , you were teaching me how to swim. As I lay shut to the world , you were bringing the world to me.

In the world of Romeo & Juliet’s , I forgot about Mary. Forgive me !

Let me listen to you again, let me tell you all my tales. Let me tell you that you’re the prettiest lady I shall ever see & let me sing with you the song you love the most. Let me live with you a little, because all that I know is you are the truth in this world of lies.

No Juliet can be what this Mary is!

Thank you for being there. Indeed you are life.

I love you Maa. Forgive me!

With Love,

Your Son,

Three Rays Villa,



Dear William Family…!

Dear William family,

Sometimes you hold a pen & think of writing your own story. I guess it’s time you hear about the serenity which walked through my days of life. I always wanted the generations to know, what a beautiful feeling it is to be able to love someone. 

While I was a young theatre enthusiast in France, the Broadway’s had a elite of it’s own. The work of Jean Vigo was at its prime & on a sunny afternoon of 1962, while I watched in fascination the art on that stage, a lady entered the silent auditorium full of deafening silent audience with a greased cloth bag up her shoulder..! What a aura she had! It felt like graceful joy draped in a long linen shirt. I loved the way she faded off the darkness with that gallance in her smile. I couldn’t stop myself from striking a silent conversation with her.

Kids sometimes while you talk to someone you already get a clue how that person is going to impact your life.everytime it’s almost undescribed but strongly felt. By the spring of 1963, we had weaved our own hideout from worries. She found peace in me & I? I had already found my solace around her. The time just used to rush to dark & I used to love holding the brittle sun lights in her thoughts. 

Ha! My girl..!! She had a mystically pure soul just like the silk stretched upon the curtains of a dreamy house. A calmness which I searched yet never found. She made me fall in love with rains, the cold drops of joy which brought the child come alive in me, the fresh brewed coffee to go with the equisite blend of her words, the gallant smiles which lived in freedom from artificiality & above all she made me fall in love with her.
Children, believe me I never saw a prettier woman than that woman who used to run her finger over the cup of her coffee while she innocently sipped the soberness out of the dark latte’s. 

With the onset of summer, I married her. The joy of that summer morning still glares through my skinny cheeks as I think of her. Children, your grandma was the prettiest bride who walked the aisle holding onto her grace & hope. 

I vowed:

“I shall hold you in your joy & sorrows. In sickness & health. In worry & good. I shall be faithful to the promise of loving you all my life & growing old with you. I shall respect & protect you against all evil. Never shall I run over your desires for my ambitions & above all I would let the kid in you be alive all my life, till I die. Amen”

Kids! She held onto my belief & we just lived our life basking under the glory of each other all our lives. With flaws & without them, with worries sometimes & without them. I never felt alone till the fateful evening of 1979. That day when I saw her breath her last, I helplessly held onto her. She held your father right to her womb &I kissed him for eternity , silently holding my hand just like the day she held it on the alter & bid me goodbye. While I put her in my arms to lay her to rest, her closed eyes had a stare that ripped through my heart.After all we both vowed to be there for each other all our lives, but she didn’t keep her vow.

Your Grandma was an elegant lady & the love of my life. Your old man feels weak & alone after she left. The tunes of Beethoven still remind me of our first dance & the coffee seems so cold now. 

I might have probably died when you shall read this letter, but do remember kids, hold onto the love of your life because someday you ll have your own story to write. Just make sure it’s the best.

I love you Christina !!!

With love,

Greg William

15/A, Churchill lane, 

New Jersey

Dear Anamika….

He glared silently at the thoughtful face, chasing every frowned faded line of sigh. He stared at her face just a glance which became a memory forever. The silence between the eyes echoed in the thin air, deafening the noise of the world. He knew something had happened.

She just forced her eyes staring away as she tried to not show the obvious worry n her face.He just knew, “SHE FELT GUILTY”. He knew he was her guilt, so he just forced his feet to walk away never to fall in love again.

Dear Anamika,

 “Before God, we are all equally wise, and equally foolish”

Sometimes in life there comes a time when you can’t stand tall & look in the eyes of the one you love & ask her what had happened, as you clearly know the reason behind the irony.

It makes me wonder was our abstract love  right or was the tradition? Sometimes I ask myself can Lord be so dividing that he made me a son of a Dalit & you a daughter of a Brahmin. You know, Baba always used to tell me all these castes & creed are more of a hoax & we all are equal, I’ll go to him & ask him, why did he lie to me all my life?  Why didn’t he tell me that I don’t have the right to decide whom to love & peacefully spend my days with. You know they say I can’t even enter a temple, I guess if they are right then even God doesn’t want to be by my side , then how can I blame you, you’re just a human. 

They forget Nandanar who was rejected by the priests but accepted by the god. They forget “chokhamela”, the Dalit poet who made the world fall in love with his poetic verses. They overlook the “Raidas” Aka Ravidass whose teachings are a part of the holy “Guru Granth Sahib”. They look upto BR Ambedkar & The Mahatma Gandhi but never  believe  their enemity against casteism. I wish I could show them we are also humans &I we are just same like them.

The panchayat  has decided that I should leave the village, despite trying my best I couldn’t make it upto them. I hope you ll remember me in your best stories & read me in your poems.

I am sorry Anamika you have to feel ashamed of me, I am sorry that my caste makes you believe that you’re guilty of accepting someone who is rejected by the world. I am sorry for being born in a house which didn’t have a right to love or live. 

I can’t explain to you how does it feel when you know that you’re a mistake of someone’s life even if they are your wish come true. I’ll ask that Lord someday why did he make such a divide that every heart has to think before falling in love & every mind has to suffer while parting away. I’ll ask him let him decide whose Lord is he?  If theirs then which is my Lord & if mine whose theirs?

Goodbye. I hope who shall always be a proud Brahmin & I’ll always be a silent Dalit.

With love,

Arun Bhogta,

Rohtas, Bihar,