Rani had once lived in the Lalkothi, which was why she still remembered the way to Dadi's house. Perhaps that was also the reason she had addressed the letters to Dadi's name. As Arjun read through them, he began piecing together the fragments of his past—connecting the stories Dadi had once told him with the words written in these letters, much like an artist carefully restoring an old, faded painting. He gathered all the letters and returned home.
Even after learning this truth, he did not know how he was supposed to feel. Why had she never revealed her real identity?
And if she had finally chosen to do so, why in such a mysterious and indirect manner?
Had he become such a stranger to her?
Shreya, whom he had never been able to accept as a natural part of his life, had turned out to be the same companion from his childhood. Today, she had become the most difficult question living inside him. After spending so many months in his house, surrounded by the entire family, why had she never found the courage—or the need—to tell him the truth?
A storm of questions raged within his mind. Was that letter meant for him?
Or was Rani in some kind of trouble?
Perhaps she wanted to uncover a veil over something that Arjun had never truly understood. Dadi had placed her hand gently on his and said, "Whatever it is, my child, do not run away from the truth. Sometimes, old relationships ask to be heard once again."
Arjun nodded silently. Outside the window, a breeze was blowing, but he felt as though the real storm was rising deep within him.
Opening the letters was no longer a mere formality; it was the opening of a door to his past. And he knew that once opened, many things could change forever.
Arjun took a deep breath and slowly began walking towards his room upstairs. He had slipped the letters into the pocket of his jeans and touched them once with his hand, as if to reassure himself that they were safe. He was moving forward in silence when Bitti stopped him."Brother, where have you been wandering all day without eating anything?
We've been waiting for you to have lunch."
At that moment, Arjun did not feel like explaining anything. He simply said, "I was discussing some documents and the upcoming hearing with Suyash Bhaisahab. Come, let's eat quickly. I need to prepare myself mentally for the hearing the day after tomorrow."
After that, no one asked him any further questions.The moment he reached his room, an intense urge to read those letters overtook him. His mind had become like a kite without a string—restless and beyond his control.
He began replaying the events of the past few hours in his mind. When Dadi had first spoken those words, Arjun had been stunned, as if someone had suddenly switched on a blinding light in a dark room and jolted him awake from a deep sleep. For a few moments, his breath had caught in his throat.
Dadi had spoken slowly, but every word fell upon Arjun's heart like long-buried memories knocking once again at the door of his consciousness."Rani used to live in Lalkothi, Arjun," she had murmured. That's why she must have remembered our address and sent the letters here."
Just hearing this, the long-held silence within Arjun shattered. Rani—the very girl he had once searched for madly, desperately. No matter how many times he had tried to push those forgotten memories out of his heart, they had always returned like stubborn shadows.
His throat tightened. "Dadi, does this mean these letters are from her?" His voice trembled.
Dadi removed her spectacles and wiped the corners of her eyes with the edge of her sari. "Who else could it be, my child?"
"The things written in these letters—how would a stranger know them?"
"You both used to play in the lanes near Lalkothi all the time, remember?"
Arjun's eyes widened slowly. The narrow alleys of that old neighborhood came rushing back to him—the endless hours of playful chaos.
"But Dadi," Arjun said, "you told me Rani had drowned in the Ganga."This time Dadi replied gently, "Come inside first. I have a few more letters to give you. I had some doubts earlier, so I opened and read them. Forgive me for that, son."
"One of the letters is addressed to me. In it, she has repeatedly requested that these letters be given to you only if you ask about them. Otherwise, they were not to be handed over."
Dadi looked at him, her eyes filled with a mother's concern and the quiet wisdom of lived experience." Read the letters, child. Why are you so restless? Perhaps it is nothing serious."
But Arjun knew better. Rani and "nothing serious" were two things that had never gone together. He said softly, "Dadi, if she has sent these letters, it means something grave. Rani was never the kind of girl who would trouble anyone without reason."
"After so many years of complete silence, why would she suddenly write to me?"
Dadi extended the letter towards him and said, "Because Rani is Shreya. I have come to know this now. Look, read it carefully—"
"Dadi, the memory of animals and birds is often far better than that of humans. Mitthu recognized me instantly, yet none of you could."
Indeed, animals and birds often exhibit a depth of sensitivity that surpasses our own. Guided by instinct, scent, and subtle sound, they recognize their masters and offer a loyalty that remains steadfast through every trial. Their compassion is no less profound—even a cow has been observed tenderly nursing a leopard's cub, a living testament that empathy and selfless affection can transcend the boundaries of species.
Arjun rose from his chair and began pacing the room. The letters had been addressed to Dadi's name, not his. Did Rani still remember the fragile thread of their old bond?
Or was there some hidden warning concealed within these pages?
These days, he had begun doubting everything. Was there some secret from the past that she had kept buried for so long?
And the bigger question—why had she remembered him after all these years?
© Copyright Pushpa Chaturvedi
All rights reserved