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Thursday, 19 June 2014

A letter in my new book, by Madhurima Halder

A letter in my new book

It was a hectic schedule today. I returned from my clinic to my Norwegian flat which I took on rent. I unlocked the door and I stepped in. The blue lights surrounding the arc of my study reflected on my face. I entered my room, changed into my night wear and was covering myself under the blanket when I felt something. I immediately got up from my bed and switched on the lights.

‘At least someone remembered my birthday’ I thought. Aayan kept my favorite book, the book about which I always speak to him, the book which I thought of buying soon…the book which was written by one of my favorite authors…Jayabrato Chatterjee’s “A Soft Eclipse”.

I opened the book and somehow letter fell off. I kept the book on the table and picked up the letter. As I read the first line I understood it was written by him. I never wanted to ruin the essence and flavor of the letter and so I landed up in my balcony. I pulled out a chair and extended my legs on the steel rods. The roads below were still busy leaving behind smokes and dust, adding an inch to my imaginations of the busy Calcutta streets. I glued my eyeballs now on the letter. It was written as follows—

To my Love,
I remember the day when I first met you,
It seemed like yesterday when my heart was blue.
The hard troublesome soul I hide away.
The first time when my eyes were laid upon you,
Through my heart all I could feel was your soul.
As the smile I see you opposing everyday,
I would freeze up and have nothing to say.
Upon the stars that shine brightly at night,
The day when my heart went up was at first sight!
Forever and always,


Tears rolled down my eyes. It stopped halfway. It was as if it got frozen.

I then gained back my senses. I recollected all what I had done. I understood that I am again doing this madness.

Why do I keep the same book on my bed every morning and return back in the evening hoping to get something more? Why do I read the same letter every day? I entered my room, put back the letter in my book and called him up.

How will he respond to my call? The cell phone is lying in my desk and he is dead!

Madhurima Halder.

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