Chapter 2: Chapter 2
ANAYA
THE LETTER FROM MY BELOVED
January 2005, I woke up around noon, merely clueless about what to do next. I would stay awake the entire night struggling to find a purpose for my living. The last few months had taught me that predictions were a fool's game. The sudden death of my husband, Sharad, about three months ago had changed my life completely. I felt numb, upset and anxious. It seemed impossible for me to put my life back together. Twelve months ago, he had been diagnosed with stage three Oesophageal cancer. That appeared to us as a shock as he had never in his life had even held up a cigarette, let alone smoke. Cancer is an unavoidable and heartbreaking disease and can affect anyone in random. His surgery was ruled out because cancer had grown around his aorta. He was going through different chemo sessions for months, and it seemed like he was recovering well. I wanted to believe that he would soon be as healthy as he used to be. Never in my dreams or even for a minute, I had a thought that he would leave us so soon.
When you're given the heartbreaking news of your husband's demise, everything changes in a flash of seconds. Life, as you know, it will never be the same. It can be reinvented, reshaped into something different, but it's never the same.
After he died, I felt like I was continually harbouring 'dry bones'. The world had just paused around me. I would often find myself at some corner of the house staring bluntly at our pictures and living in those days and memories over and over again. It was like I was still glued in the past and subconsciously I didn't want to move away or move on from that.
•
I met him for the first time in January 2002. It was three years ago when he had come to my house with his parents to ask for my hand. I was uninformed about what was happening around me. It was only that very day. I came to know that my mother planned the meeting. She was basically in search of a good man for quite some time. She did not tell me anything about it. I belonged to a middle-class family, and as the only daughter, they were very protective of me. They wanted to choose a groom of their choice. I, on the other hand, wanted to fall in love before I get married. However, I trusted my parents more than myself, so I showed no objection towards the arrangement of my marriage. Also, they were willing to give me the time I needed to get along or to know that person intimately.
That day, mom woke me up early in the morning and asked me to freshen up and wear a new salwar suit which she had purchased for me a week ago. It was around half past noon when I heard a car honking in front of our house. I was very nervous. I had severe social anxieties which would often ruin my situation, but I tried to stay calm and clear my thoughts.
Following our culture, I stepped into our living room to serve tea and snacks. It was during that time when we saw each other for the very first time. He was 27 years old at that time. He had an oblong face with ivory skin, mink brown eyes with arched eyebrows, a broad nose and bulbous lips. His windblown jet black hair would go perfectly with his face. He was sitting on our sofa. His turtle-necked burgundy shirt and a pair of well fitted black pants elegantly revealed his magnificent physique. As he sat there looking at me, he gave a very lament smile. He didn't seem happy with the things that were going around him. I could tell it by looking at his pretentious expressions. He was trying to look happy, but little did he know how terrible of an actor he was. His father initiated a conversation with me, and I got involved in a discussion with them. Time and again, I saw him looking at his watch.
After a while, his mother insisted us to go outside and have a conversation with each other in person.
To be precise, it was also a part of our tradition where a girl and a boy are supposed to talk in private to understand each other well.
After some time, we were standing in our garden, completely clueless. When you don't know the other person, you are more likely to overthink and get anxious. For at least five minutes, none of us used words. We had a conversation with the exchange of looks in a tense environment.
'Why do you want to get married?' came a question abruptly from his side.
I turned my face towards him, paused for a while and replied,
'Because that's what a girl in our family does after reaching my age'.
So are you ready to settle down? He asked again.
I agreed to his question with a slight nod.
'Same here', he replied and this time with a genuine smile on his face. The way he looked at me was the moment he had won me over with that smile. I never thought I would fall for someone over one smile but life, as you know, makes us realise that we are never someone, who we think we are nor do we do things as pers our plans.
We met in January and were engaged by March. I don't know how to explain it honestly, but there were so many things we had in common. We could talk with each other for hours and still be left with a lot more to talk about. Few months felt like years, and it was as if we had known each other our whole lives. We were in love and wanted to start the rest of our lives together. We got married in less than five months later of our engagement.
Everything came off perfect for almost a year. We were living a healthy and happy life like any other married couple until the news of his cancer broke out. Our lives changed in an instant. Something shattered inside of me. But I was always taught to be strong. I knew that I had to be strong enough to support him physically and emotionally. Hearing the news, I made an instantaneous decision to become the best caregiver possible. Initially, I had to struggle a lot to help him get over with the shock of a cancer diagnosis. I gave him time and space to react and reflect. Despite the sadness of having a loved one with a disease, I found personal satisfaction in looking after him. I saw it as a meaningful role that allowed me to show my love and respect for the person I loved. His treatment was gruelling. He went through radical surgery, followed by chemotherapy, and a clinical trial drug. It went on for several months. Many times it even caused me stress and physical sickness at the same time, but I would quickly collect myself back together and start hoping for the best. As his wife, all I wanted was to fix the situation. However, cancer was a problem that I couldn't fix. I could only support him in the best ways I knew how to. I was always there to encourage him and what came to light in our relationship during those times still makes me glad. Even though I couldn't save his life, he died knowing he was truly loved, and I was left with the memory of what it was to share true friendship with a spouse.
I got up from the bed and moved towards the window. The winter season had started to reach its peak. The temperatures were beginning to decrease, and the amount of Sun was minimal during that month. I moved towards the kitchen to brew some coffee. I often felt preoccupied or as though I couldn't focus on anything other than my grief and sorrow. I used to contact like I have to conserve my energy to deal with my emotion and stress of grief. I felt as though the things I once enjoyed now looked like meaningless or unimportant without him. The world no longer felt like a reliable place. I thought I would feel better with time, so I decided to stay at home and wait it out, but even after three months, I would locate myself in the same spot where I was left. The days that followed his death were utterly empty. I needed a new objective in life.
•
I was pouring my coffee when my phone rang. It was his mom. She asked me to come to her house for dinner. She used to live just ten minutes away from my home. It was the third time that she had called me for dinner after the incident. I always avoided it by making excuses. Firstly, I didn't want to step out of the house and secondly, watching his mother in tears would be like expanding more grief to my heart. That morning, I was just thinking of an excuse to avoid again, but the words that followed grabbed me by my shoulders, 'He has left a letter for you', suddenly I heard this sentence from the other side of the phone.
'Letter?' I asked.
It was then she spoke of a letter that he had left for me. He had told his mother to only give it to me after three months of his passing away.
I hurried towards my room to get my slippers. I don't remember leaving the house. All I remember is running on the road towards his mom's house with a heap of mixed feelings on my head. I reached there, fully dehydrated. I was feeling tired and sluggish. I knocked on the door. His mother opened the door and welcomed me inside. She offered me a glass of water.
'Where is the letter?' I asked while taking the glass from her. She asked me to sit first and then went inside her room to bring that letter. I could see her eyes full of tears. She quickly passed the envelope with trembling hands. 'Have you read it?' I inquired. She denied and said, 'it was only for you'.
I grabbed the letter from her hand, hugged her and told her that I would visit her soon and left for home.
Even though I wanted to unwrap the envelope right away, yet I controlled myself. For me, to read a letter from him would be like hearing him talk again. I waited until I reached home. When I arrived, I went directly inside my room and sat on his side of the bed. I pulled the envelope from my left pocket. It was a white envelope with a quote written in it, which read, 'To my beloved wife.'
I pulled the top edge, ripped the envelope and tore it open. I could feel that my hands were quivering as I started to unfold the paper. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and began reading.
Dearest love,
By the time you receive this letter, I would have been long gone, and with every passing day, I grow more scared and afraid that it wouldn't have to come to this and that you wouldn't have to read it.
First and foremost, I want to start this letter by thanking you for being the best part of my life. Thank you for being the first thing that I always wake up to and the last thing that I still see before I sleep. Thank you for choosing me and spending the most beautiful years of my life with me. These days I often find myself complaining to God about the predicament that he has placed me in, but then I see your face, and suddenly I find myself thanking him instead for sending an angel by my side. I wanted to spend my whole life with you, but little did I know that my whole was going to be this short. I'm still hoping and praying to recover soon. I want my struggle to end but more than that I wish for
your battle to end as well and want to see you happy and see your beautiful dimpled smile that I always adored and loved. It rips my heart apart when I see you struggling because of me. I promised you a happy life when I vowed in front of God on our wedding day and believe me, I would have given you that if I could, but perhaps, God had some other plans.
Dear love, there is something I wanted to tell you, and I wanted to apologise in advance for everything that I'm about to write next. I never wanted to say or do this to you, during such a difficult moment in your life, and it hurts and pains me to know you would be grieving, lonely and vulnerable right now. I wanted to solve it myself, but God has put me in such a position where I have neither the power nor the time to do so. The only option I'm left with is to ask my better half, my only and most trusted partner and the love of my life for help.
Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I could see teardrops falling on the paper. I wiped it slowly and continued reading.
Do you remember one of my friend who visited me at the hospital? His name was Samar. He was my college batchmate, and we even studied for our master's degree together from the same university. After we completed our studies, we went our separate ways and were not in contact with one another for a very long time. He had come to visit after he heard the news about my disease from one of our mutual friends. While we were talking to each other, he mentioned something which was both shocking and disturbing at the same time.
He said, not too long ago, he happened to come across my ex-girlfriend Niti Sinha when he was in a town named Dorsam for some official work. He told me that he recognised her from a distance and went up to talk to her. She was with a little girl who had a striking resemblance to me. First, he introduced himself as my friend and with great excitement, asked her, 'So you two got married so soon?'
He told me that she was taken aback and looked at him as if she had seen a ghost.
'So is he in town today?' He asked again.
But he told me that she only gave him a pretentious smile and said that he might have had some kind of misunderstanding. She went ahead and said to him that the two of us had broken up after I graduated from university and that she was now married to someone else and the child belonged to her husband. He was about to ask something furthermore, but she hastily pulled her daughter's hand and left in a hurry without saying anything else further. He said that it took him some time to absorb what had happened and stood there for a while with so many suspicions inside his head. The thing that bothered him the most was the little girl's face which resembled mine so much, and for that reason, it was nearly inconceivable for him to believe that she could be someone else's daughter. Out of curiosity, he had called around some of our mutual friends and asked them for my number, and that is when he came to know about my marriage with you and my disease. He had called me in the morning that day but didn't tell me anything over the phone because he wanted to visit me personally.
After he finished talking, he looked at me. I could see the curiosity on his face. He was expecting an answer from me. But then there was me in front of him wholly clueless and shocked. The only words that came out from my mouth were, 'I have no idea what you are talking about'.
'So you mean she is telling the truth?' He asked.
I stared at him, my throat dry, and my chest heavy too shocked for words.
I could feel tears welling up to my eyes, and it felt like a cold wind had gone right through me. I spread my trembling fingers and placed my hands across my heavy chest trying to calm myself down and asked with a raspy and shaky voice,
'How old did her daughter look?'
'I'm not sure, but she was in her school dress', he replied.
Does that mean she is more than three? I whispered.
I started talking to myself and started evaluating everything. The year 2000, my relationship with her, her three years old daughter in the year 2004 who had a striking resemblance to me. All of a sudden, like pieces of a puzzle, things eventually started falling into place. I felt deep remorse and disappointment, but most of all, rage towards Niti for hiding such a big secret from me. Her drug addiction was the main reason for our failed relationship. She was an orphan who used to live alone, and that was the reason why I was so considerate about her habits and behaviours. I tried to help her with everything I had and all that I could do at that time. We had tried admitting her into rehabilitation centres only for her to escape and runaway on countless occasions.
We attended therapy sessions, seminars and counselling as well. She would start to get better but only to have her relapse and get back into her addiction all over again. Her drug use escalated with time. She could have improved her life and our relationship if only she had more willpower and determination but she would always take it lightly at the end of it and would reply with a 'why do you even care it's my life, you don't own or control me'. I told her many times over that there is nothing that we cannot restart, rebuild and start over, but she had always managed to fail me every time with her carefree attitude. After one point, I started to believe that she ceased to care about us, our relationship or even try to have the slightest of interest to improve just a little bit as it was always I who would request, beg and plead with her to attend all these seminars and take her to those rehabilitation centres, slowly but steadily the person inside of me broke and I eventually gave up. I never looked back after that and nor did she. After a few months I met you and my whole upside down and messed up life turned into a beautiful dream, and you gave me a whole new meaning to life, and I'm still living in it. I wish I could live more of it.
You have been nothing but a bundle of joy and warmth ever since the day we've met, and it saddens me significantly even to write this and ask this of you as I cannot even imagine the state you would be feeling right now after reading this letter from your departed husband.
But I want you always to know and remember that I have always loved you and will continue to do so until my dying last breath.
In saying, so I want you to know that the little part of me that is living and is still alive in this little girl's veins, her DNA, my DNA has me concerned about her well being. I had cut off ties with Niti long ago, and I do not have even a little bit of concern for her, but I know that there is no way for that woman to be able to provide a good life for my daughter.
Oh! How I wish I could get a glimpse of my little girl before I leave. The more I think about it, the more it makes my heartbreak to know that I will be leaving you and will be leaving without even getting the chance to see my little girl.
If I were to compare this pain with the physical pain that I have, then I would certainly say it was never as intolerable as this.
I have now reached a point in my life where all I can do is ask of you to look for her after I'm gone. I know after reading all of this it would take some time for you to take in all that I have written. But would you be willing to do that for me?
I'm not asking you to take full responsibility for her, and I know that it would certainly not be ethically right to ask you for that. Even if it were, I would never ask you to do such a thing. I only want you to find her and make sure she is safe and safeguard her from a distance until required.
Nevertheless, one thing I need you to remember is, I'm not writing this letter as my last wish which you are bound to fulfil. Please do not consider it as one and do it only if your heart allows it.
Always remember, you have already given me sufficient love and support for more than a lifetime, and I'm leaving this world knowing that I was truly loved. I would never be able to pay you back for all that you have done for me, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.
I will always be looking over you from the stars.
My beloved wife, I am forever grateful towards you.
Yours truly,
Always and forever,
Sharad
I could see the last paragraph slightly stained with droplets of what I assumed must have been his tears while he ended the letter. Tears continued to roll down my cheeks. I placed my hands on the letter, and the feeling of holding him seemed unimaginatively real. I sat there, unmoved for a long time. The message he had left for me was a responsibility. Even though he had made it clear not to consider it as his final wish, which I was bound to fulfil, he had left me the choice to say no. Yet, how could I have ever said no?
Those were the final words and wishes of a person whom I had loved immensely. How could I have let it slide by considering it as a simple letter?
•
There was a time when I would wake up feeling stuck and purposeless, but when I woke up the next morning, those sensations were gone.
I felt calm and compiled. I took out the letter from my pocket and reread it one more time. That letter had not just delivered his words, but it had also delivered a new purpose and responsibility in my life. Of course, I was alone, and I had no idea how I was going to accomplish it. But as they say, love makes you do things that you had no idea you would do or think about doing. Never in my life did I ever think that one day I would be in such a position or circumstance. I never thought I was capable of even thinking about doing something alone. But then there was me, sitting on the edge of the bed with the letter in my hand and conviction on my mind. All I had in mind at that moment was, 'I was going to do it no matter what it would take'.
I was once a believer that an essential part of finding meaning in one's life can be found in fully serving others and realising that you had a positive influence on someone's life. I had devoted my whole life to Sharad. He was my life, my love and my purpose altogether. But after he was gone, I had lost route of those things in life. Life doesn't necessarily become more comfortable when you find a purpose, but it just feels right, and that's precisely how I felt like that morning.
•
For some days, I asked around his friends' circle, hoping to get information or their address. However, even after a week, all I had was her name and the name of the town where they were seen for the last time. I had no choice but to visit the town all by myself. Although, my main goal was not just confronting them but to make sure that the little girl was safe and that her life with her mother was decent enough. At that time, I had no idea how difficult it was going to be. I was unaware of how my world was going to turn upside down.
Oblivious of everything that was going to occur, I left for that town on the second week of January. It was going to be a long journey. I still remember that journey through the mountains. I'm not an enthusiast of low temperatures, but as I looked out of the window, I was instantly in love with the soothing view. It almost had me forget the chilly cold air that was blowing directly towards my face. The freezing air instead felt savoury, healthy and bracing. I found myself smiling as I looked out of the window. At one point in time, I was questioning myself whether it was that delightful weather that was luring me or was it just because I was on some journey after almost a year. After a long trip for about six hours, I finally reached the town. It was a beautiful hill station situated on the lap of the Himalayas. It was snowing outside, so I quickly entered a local taxi and moved towards the nearby hotel. The town had concrete sidewalks and brick-walled houses. On my way, I noticed children playing in melting snow. I could see trees, houses and cars coated in powdery snow. Through the window of my cab, I could smell coffee and freshly baked buns. I assumed it to be coming from some bakery nearby. That smell, however, made my mouth water and my stomach growled in anticipation. I reached the hotel in no time as it was located in the middle of the town. I reserved a room for the night. It was a tiny white-walled room with two windows which had purple and white curtains. It had a single bed. A small Panasonic TV placed above a table with a study lamp and a chair at the side. However, it was clean and well maintained. As soon as I finished freshening up, I grabbed the menu card that was hung on the wall beside the TV. I ordered rice, a bowl of hot chicken soup and mixed vegetables from the room service and sat by the window while I ate. It was dark by now.
I could barely see the snowflakes floating to the ground. Most of the shops were closed. Only the houses had their lights on. I could hear the crunch of snow as vehicles were racing past. I could inhale the coldness of the night. The chilling air and the hot chicken soup slithered down my chest at the same time.
Meanwhile, several thoughts were running inside my head. Even though I had been thinking about it for a long time, yet I was unable to come up with a suitable series of activities that would help me find them and get closer to them. Nevertheless, I decided to take a slow pace. I finished my meal and went to bed early.
•
The next day was going to be a busy day for me. I decided to go around and ask about them. The only information I had about her was her name and that she had a daughter who would probably be of 4 years old by now. I asked around the house to house for a few days. However, I had no information about them. It was a small place, and I thought it wouldn't be a difficult job to find them, but these few days had proved me entirely wrong. At one point, I thought of sharing this thing with his mother, but every time I would stop myself. Telling her that she had a granddaughter whose whereabouts is still unknown would be like adding more misery to her life. I couldn't do that to her. I was unable to make decisions for a few days. I was stuck between whether I should continue to look for them or should I go back.
•
A week passed just like that. That night, I was just tossing and turning on my bed, incapable of falling asleep. I was worried because I was falling short of money. I had no idea how long it was going to take. It was becoming worrisome to continue to live in a hotel room, and going back home was the last thing on my mind. I was not even considering it as an option. The only thing that was in my mind was, 'I had to find them no matter what'.
The following day I began looking for an affordable house to live in as a paying guest. That was the only idea I had come up with to save the extra expense that I was spending for the stay. I found one house where an older woman used to live alone. I told her that I had some important work in that town and I needed a home to stay in for at least a month. At first, she hesitated for a bit, but she had one small room on the ground floor, which was vacant. So, after thinking for a while, she finally agreed. I shifted to her house starting that evening, and that was how my life began in the town.
I started my chapter in that town as a woman who had lost her husband and had travelled a great distance to a new town to fulfil his final wishes. Little did I know that God was writing a different story for me and that he was going to change my whole identity
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