CID3

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Lovishdeep Singh <singhlovishdeep966@gmail.com> Sat, 9 Mar 2024 at 8:23 am

To: authorlovish@gmail.com

A tired, sick looking man with dark circles under his eyes stared back at me as i looked in the mirror. Seems like I didn't slept for ages. I
resembles a hero of a movie going to end with a sad ending.
‘What happened Yogesh? You wasn't like this before.’ The man in mirror said me.
‘True, I was once a young man. Full of energy and happiness. But now, I am nothing more than a heap of bones and flesh.’ I said.
‘What happened with you?’
‘What happened? Sat what not happened. I am ruined. My future is ruined. Whats the point of leaving now?’
‘Hey, don't talk like that. You are only 26. Stop behaving like this. See what you have, you have a big house, your father is a rich man.
You have a job. And most important, you are a non-fiction writer. You have everything one needs to be happy.’ Man in mirror said.
‘This house is not mine but my father's, my father is not my father but my stepfather. And my job, cleaning gutters is far better than my
job. And my books? No one read them. Only 500 copies sold in total.’ I corrected the man in mirror. ‘And she is not more in my lives,
how come you say I have everything in life?’
I moved away from the mirror. I think I need to stop this, talking alone standing front of mirror. I went to my balcony and sipped tea I
just made in my electric kettle. Despite living in a house with a modular kitchen, i always prefer making tea. Making tea in kitchen
means passing a living room occupied with three creepy creatures, my stepfather, stepbrother and mother. My apologies if you find this
disrespectful, but what's the problem of passing a disrespectful comment to those who deserves it?
I dipped a bourbon biscuit in tea and fed myself. It's all I found in kitchen.
Behind my balcony on road, I can see Aastha. My most beautiful gift I ever received in my life. There is so many memories associated
with her. How we both went on long trips alone. It's only five years ago. How time changes peoples so much. Aastha wasn't like those
when I saw her las t time, she began looking older. If you are wondering who is Aastha, she is my wife. Oh, sorry sorry, I mean Aastha is
my bike. Yes, I named my pulsar Aastha. So you can predict I am an intelligent kind of person. Average but sweet, this is how my wife
used to describe me. She gifted me Aastha five years back on my birthday. But now, all I can do is to remember beautiful memories of
my wife and smile alone.
I moved back to my room after finishing tea. My bookshelf has 4 novels placed in its top. ‘Mahira Sharma’ said the name of author, yes
she was my wife. We met first in IIM-C while persuing our MBA degrees. She loves reading my books, I love reading her books. More
that reading her books, I liked her. I liked her beautiful smile which has the power to heal everyone's pain. Her beautiful hands which
had wiped my tears countless times. Her beautiful eyes shouting for being loved. That's all she wanted, to being loved. But there is no
logic talking about this, that is all past now. She is no more. No more in my life atleast.
I took my briefcase. Despite being senty, I have to work my ass off in office. If I don't want to starve of hunger. I went to living room
where I saw my stepfather sitting on couch glancing at TV. His face is filled with a grin while watching TV. I looked in his direction
wondering what he found that intersting. There is a news channel on TV showing six peoples arguing with each other on name of
news. I read the headline which says ‘Hindus chanted Hanuman chalisa in front of Mosque.’
Wow, welcome to this world of shit, what a genuine topic to worry about. Left global warming, left ozone hole, left increasing
population in India. All we need to worry is ‘Hindus chanted Hanuman chalisa in front of mosque in delhi.’
In 17th century, in backyard of red fort in Delhi. Hindus celebrate Holi festival when it comes and when it is muharram muslim
celebrate their festival in same backyard. Once Holi and muharram falls on same day. People of both religion respect each other so
much. So muslim allowed Hindus to celebrate their Holi and they celebrated their festival somewhere else. Mahira told me this tale
once when we visited their.
But will our fucking media show this type of news ever? No, never. Why? Actually you know the reason, you know right?
My stepbrother Tarun is sitting next to my father. A wave of anger ran throughout my bloodstream whenever I saw his stupid face.
Hundreds of people die everyday in India, why don't he? And my father? If there was nothing in India named ‘constituition’, I had killed
Tarun long before.
Let me tell you a little backstory of creature named Yogesh Chopra. I am a son of a BSF soldier who was my real father. My father got
shot while his posting in Thar desert. Seasoning on pizza, that was same day when my father died and my mother gave birth too me.
So according to my mother and all my relatives, I am a ‘manhoos’ or someone who bring badluck. After that my mother married to an
another man who is unfortunately, my stepfather now. He runs two Toyota showrooms in Noida and Gurugram. He also has a sanitary
fittings business as side gig. I am sure his side gig earns hundred times than my salary.
‘You want breakfast?’ My mother said to me as she saw me.
‘No, I had biscuits with tea.’ I said and kept my empty cup in sink.
‘Mom, give me bourbon biscuits. I had kept them in fridge.’ Tarun said. My mother went to kitchen for a search which is going to
fruitless.
‘There are not any biscuits there.’ My mother said from kitchen.
‘I kept them yesterday. Next to bottles.’ Tarun said scratched his father tummy.
‘I had them.’ I said without looking at him.
‘What? Why you keep eating my stuff?’ Tarun growled. ‘Mom, ask him why he ate my biscuits?’
‘Yogesh, you know bourbon is Tarun’s favourite? Why you had them?’ My mother said. Eating biscuits need an explanation?
‘Mom, I was hungry. I found those in fridge and had them with tea.’ I said like confessing a murder.
‘Now what will he eat?’ My mother said.
‘Fed him poison.’ I said.
‘Behave, tere baap ka Ghar nahi hai. (it's not your father's house)’ My father roared his rehersaled sentence he kept chanting since my
childhood.
I kept silence. I don't have anything to argue further.
‘Mom, tell him to bring me baurbon biscuits.’ Tarun said like a 12 year old.
‘I am getting late,’ I said.
‘I don't know anything else. Bring me my baurbon biscuits.’ Tarun ordered me.
‘Do your stuff yourself. I have my office.’ I said and headed out before someone say anything else.

I just stepped out of my house and I am already full of sweat. It's only eight in morning and temperature is over fourty degrees in Delhi.
Sitting on Aastha means getting my ass roasted. Tarun's dark blue BMW which my father gifted him when he completed his B.com is
parked just in front of Aastha. Before I get my ass roasted, I noticed something on Aastha's seat, some brown paper. A stone is placed
over the paper acting as paperweight. I took that paper in my hand throwing that stone aside, it's not a paper but an envelope.
Envelope?
It is not empty but contain some papers inside as I can feel. I flipped that brown envelope in my hands checking for address, name or
anything but it's just a plain brown envelope neatly sealed. What the hell is this? Is this a advertising pamphlet? But they don't come in
envelopes. Joining letter from that company I applied for? I don't think so.
A drop of sweat fell from my nose to my wrist indicating it's not time for checking that envelope. I folded that envelope in half and put it
in my pant's pocket.
I felt chills in my ass as I sat on my hot-shot Aastha. Mahira always shouted at me when I used these words. I pulled throttle of Aastha
and headed for my next destination, lawyer’s office.

‘Morning sir,’ I greeted to Gupta, the lawyer we hired for our divorce. I don't say ‘good morning’ but ‘morning’ only. My mornings are not
good anymore. Nights also. Mahira hasn't reached yet. She had emailed me saying me to reach on time but she herself is late.
I sat on chairs myself when Gupta didn't said so. I ignored his dirty look while I toyed with his car keys. His office is same as any other
lawyer. Heaps of documents lying everywhere. There is more paper in his office than my clan ever used.
I heard door opening after waiting for 6 long minutes. Mahira greeted Gupta and sat on chair next to me. She is in formal outfit, deep
blue shirt and black trousers. Her dark clothes are contrasting with her fair complexion. Her open hairs emitting sweet fragrance. I last
saw her six months ago when I bumped into her accidentally in market. All I wanted is to grab her face and plant a hard kiss on her lips.
‘Hi,’ I said pushing my inner intentions aside. She looked at me but said nothing.
Gupta cleared his throat to grab our attention. ‘As I can see here, it is a mutual divorce. Both parties have equal consent in this
decision. Am I right?’
Mahira nodded quickly. Gupta looked at me waiting for my approval. I nodded slowly.
‘Hence it is a mutual divorce, things will be quite simple. After six months you will be summoned in family court. Court will check one
last time if you are still determined to your decision or not. If yes, you will be granted divorce.’ Gupta said and opened a huge file. I felt
like getting unconscious at me mention of divorce. Divorce with Mahira? No.
Gupta slided that file in front of Mahira to sign. She moved her delicate fingers to sign agreement of destruction.
‘Are you sure mam you don't want any alimony from him?’ Gupta said adjusting his glasses.
Mahira shook her head.
‘Are you sure? I can give if you—’, I tried to say but Mahira cut me in between.
‘No, I don't want any part of your damn property. I am not a pitiful girl someone need to worry about. I can leave on my own.’ She said
moving her lips I always loved and slided that file in front of me to sign as well.
I tried reading few lines before signing.
‘𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥
𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘴
𝘦𝘵𝘤. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘥𝘶𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸.’ I swallowed a lump in my throat and scribbled my
‘unlucky’ name in a column.
Mahira got up to leave. I wanted to say her something, I know after today we are going to meet straight on our day of divorce and
probably last time then. I took my briefcase and followed her. I wanted to chat with her for a while.
‘Mahira,’ I called her when I walked to parking lot following her.
‘What?’ She said and stopped in front of a black car. I tried searching for a topic to chat.
‘Your shirt is nice.’ Is all I managed to say.
‘You want to say something important?’ She said putting her hands on her slim waist.
‘I can drop you to your office.’ I said.
‘No need.’ She said and pressed something in her hand. The black car behind her unlocked with a beep sound flashing its indicators.
‘Whos car is this?’ I asked.
‘Mine, you have any problem?’ She said.
‘Your? You buyed a car? Really? Very very congratulations.’ I said with a broad smile on my face glancing her brand new shiny black
honda city.
She didn't said anything in response and sat in her car. She looked at me one last time and drove away.
I remain standing in cloud of dust her car formed. She didn't even stopped to listen what I want to say. I just wanted to chat with her for
a while. Is that a big deal?
I moved where my bike was parked. I remain standing there for a couple of seconds lost in thoughts.
‘Mahira, don't matter how much you hate me. I still love you so much. Always did, always do.’ I said to no one and drove towards my
office.

‘Why are you late?’ My boss Ritesh roared as I entered.

‘Sir, I had some important work.’ I said making an excuse.
‘Important work? So I am a free unemployed man who comes everyday on time?’ Ritesh said. His fat belly moved strangely with every
word he uttered.
‘Sorry sir, it won't happen next time.’ I said hunging my head low.
‘Best for you.’ He said and walked to his office. I saw his bald head getting smaller as he walked away.
I sat on my desk appointed to me. I work in 'Advision', an advertising agency in Noida. I work their as client manager. Our company
provides advertising, media, marketing communications, public relations, event organization, and other services to help businesses
and organizations raise awareness, sell products and services, and create dynamic brands.
I burried myself in work and spent next few hours working like a machine. I took a break when there is lunch break.
I leaned backwards on my chair closing my eyes to give them some rest.
‘Tired?’ Rehan my colleague joined last month said walking towards me.
‘Hmmm,’ I said without opening eyes.
‘Come, let's go for lunch.’ Rehan offered.
‘Um hmm,’ I said indicating a ‘no’.
‘Why? You have karwa chauth fast?’ Rehan said.
‘I don't have strength to walk to canteen.’ I said.
‘It's just downstairs. What if you had born in stone age? When everyone has to chase a rabbit for food.’ Rehan said.
‘I would prefer to be a rabbit than. You go and eat, I have no appetite.’ I said.
‘Come author saab, stop being a old man, you are young.’ Rehan said pulling my arm dragging me to canteen.
When he newly joined, someone told him that I am a writer and he discovered a new name for me, ‘author saab’.
We ordered two plates of rajma chawal in canteen.
‘Have you listened?’ Rehan said feeding himself.
‘Shakira’s new song? No.’ I said.
‘No, I am talking about Ritesh, our boss.’ He said.
‘What? Ritesh released a song? I haven't listened yet. Was it good?’ I said.
‘No no no. Stop blurting rubbish. I am not talking about any song. Have you heard about humours about Ritesh and Ridhi?’ He said.
‘Ritesh is our boss and Ridhi is our colleague in finance. That's all I know.’ I said.
‘You don't know, there is something going between both of them.’ Rehan said with a grin.
‘Huh? Are you mad? Ridhi is only around twenty five. Ritesh is over fourty. No way.’ I declared my point of view.
‘Admit it or not, there is something going between them.’ Rehan said.
I ignored him and fed myself rajma chawal.
‘What? You don't believe me?’ Rehan said getting no response from my side.
I shook my head and gulped water.
‘There is something. I am sure. Why you always keep doubting at me.’ Rehan said making a face like 10 year from someone snatched a
toy.
‘Okay okay, I believed your idiotic theory. Let's go now.’ I said and stood up.
‘One day, you have to believe me.’ Rehan said getting up too.
When I put my hand in my pocket to get out my wallet, I felt that envelope I found this morning. I had just forgot about it.
‘You want coffee?’ I said to Rehan.
‘No, I don't like coffee after lunch.’ Rehan said and left.
I ordered for a coffee for me and sat back to see what's inside that envelope. I am not under burning sky but in air-conditioned canteen.
I flipped that envelope again in my hands to get a clue of its sender but failed. Maybe it's inside. I tore open that envelope from edge
and slided out a A4 sheet folded in four folds.
It's a computer printed paper. It's a letter as I deduct from its writing style. I checked my watch, seven minutes remaining of lunch
break, enough to read a strange letter.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘠𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘢𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘢

𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵
𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳.
𝘔𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘔𝘺𝘴𝘩𝘢 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴. 𝘞𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵
𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘺𝘴𝘩𝘢. 𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐𝘵𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘐
𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦
𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵. 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵
𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴, 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘋𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦. 𝘈𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬
𝘥𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬.
𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘺
𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦.
𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦
𝘠𝘢𝘫𝘶𝘳
I scratched my head when I completed reading. What the hell is this? I shooked my head getting irritated of this letter. How come
someone think that I can write a book for someone I don't even know? Who I am, a social worker? A baba you keep roaming here and
there helping peoples for free?
I put that letter back in envelope. I checed my watch, 2 minutes left. I have to go if I don't want to listen Ritesh's scoldings.
I decide to leave this envelope here in canteen. I don't need this. I got up and paid my bill. I walked towards exit when someone called
me from behind. It's a waiter standing behind me helding that envelope.
‘You forgot your documents sir.’ Waiter said and before I say something, he shoved that envelope in my shirt pocket.