Meera sighed at the past century that now seemed to stand in front of her. Her menacing past. Oh, how much she hated it and wanted to forget it! Now, six decades later, the dead seemed to have crawled out of their graves and come back to haunt her once again with those many heartbreaks, pains, and loss.
She looked at the darn photograph, that lay on the table in front of her and cleared her throat. She said- "My grandfather was Ajit Bhandarkar, the man behind the gems like 'Andhyaare Say Milan' ( Rendezvous with the Darkness). Have you read it?"
"Yes," replied Rishabh as a smile played on his lips at the mention of one of his favorite books. He was surprised to know that he was sitting in front of the granddaughter of the famous writer but tried to show little of it as he continued- "I read it in the World Literature course. They say it portrays the real and raw situations and societal norms that an inter-caste couple who underwent love marriage had to go through in India of the 19th Century."
" And what they say is true," replied Meera, a distant gaze in her eyes as the first ghost of her past came out. For a blink of an eye, she thought she saw her dead grandfather standing near the window, looking at the great expanse of green land with the cows grazing lazily on them.
"Anyway," she continued as the specter disappeared. " It all started a week after my grandfather's death. A fan-mail had arrived for my late grandfather. I was surprised at its arrival and so were the other family members who had all arrived to pay their respects. After his books became the stories of old India and started eating dust in the library shelves, fan-mails had become quite rare.
Finally, being the one who had been writing the responses to my grandfather's letters after the golden ages had finally caught up with him, I decided to write a response again and perhaps for the last time.
But unlike the other responses, I decided to reveal my identity and break the news to the ignorant yet enthusiastic fan that the man he considered his ideal, now rested among the angels on the other side."
Meera suddenly stood up and went towards the rusted green metal trunk that rested on the floor beside the wooden cabinet. She sat down and removed the picture frames that stood on it. She clicked open the chest, and slowly yet steadily emptied out its contents to Rishabh's amazement. A while later she looked inside and with trembling hands, took out a yellowed envelope.
Meera adjusted her spectacles and took out a postcard from inside. She then stood up and walked towards Rishabh and handed him a yet another article from her past. With a slight hesitation, Rishabh took the postcard from her.
Content, Meera regained her seat and said- "A month later, I got this response from the fan. My eyesight isn't what it used to be so I have handed it to you. If you please, you can read it aloud."
Rishabh nodded with a smile and began reading the letter aloud-573Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtldtOxtRnG
573Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ05uc1FlUjf
" Respected Miss Bhandarkar, I am sorry to hear about your loss but as Sir Bhandarkar said in one of his books- ' A death of a generation is a boon to another just like a fallen apple becomes the source to a new tree. ' Sir was not only my favorite author but also my ideal, a guru to a lost soul. I had met him during one of his visits to Thanesar. He made me realize my true purpose in this world and helped a depressed youth like me become a learned professor in a government college. It had been nine years since that incident and I had written the letter wondering if he still remembered me. I share your pain and understand what you are going through. I am sure wherever he is, he has found peace. Yours faithfully, Rahul Tripathi. "
Rishabh turned over the postcard to stare at the name of the sender and then looked up. " Pretty neat a letter, huh? It must have made you feel better at that time, like ice to a burnt.
" Yes," Meera replied, " and it was also my gateway to doom."
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