1. The Letter

Mumbai

The scent of the coffee-stained paper scintillated my nostrils and filled me with nostalgia. It reminded me of the days I sat on Dadda's lap while he wrote letters to his family and acquaintances and read them to me. The paper was more than just a paper, it had memories attached to it - the memories of a lifetime that I tried to lock away until I held this letter between my fingers.

Letter?

A letter from Dadda?

'Archana, love. I'm home, darling' - Vayu's voice broke my thoughts with a simple Hmm left lips. I neatly folded the letter back and placed it in the cupboard between sarees and jewellery - surely no one other than me would touch this - definitely only me. 

I wiped any tears that had rolled down my eyes before I straightened my cotton saree, pulled my hair into a bun and rushed out of the bedroom to answer Vayu.

'Sorry, I was inside,' I apologised as I took his briefcase and he hugged me and placed a delicate forehead kiss. 'I missed you through the day, love' - I kissed his cheeks and led him to the dining hall that was attached to the kitchen.

'That's fine. How was your day?' he asked.

'What would I do at home other than a few mundane chores and being buried in my books' - I quickly prepared two cups of coffee for us.

' I thought you were planning for our next trip and perhaps a writing retreat,' he said as I placed the milk to boil on the stovetop, turned towards him and chuckled.

'Not really. At least not for the next three months, jaan, the kids have their exams coming up which means our schedules are only getting busier. No time to breathe,' I reminded him.

'English and the languages is to you and Mathematics and science is to me, right' - he almost stifled a whine and spoke in a regular tone after I glared at him - 'Sometimes, this feels like I'm at school and not them,' he pouted.

He looked so adorable that I wanted to pull his cheeks. More than the kids he hated to study and his face screamed about it. And before I could gush about how much more cute my husband looked the milk boiled.

I poured the milk into our cups that already had the coffee decoction in them and took it to the table. I took my seat beside him as we had the coffee in comfortable silence. This was our time together, a cup of coffee and us in the evening. It was rare we found time for ourselves with life and kids occupying most of it. These rare moments of companionship between us were cherished.

'How's the coffee?' I asked. 

Coffee had to be perfect no matter which time of the day you had it - it was fuel to the body and soul.

'Perfect. Just perfect,' he replied sipping on the coffee.

The warm liquid soothed my throat and awakened my soul. I felt a sudden burst of excitement as the drink entered my body. Vayu had now moved closer to me. I felt his hot breath mingled with the coffee against my neck as his hands slipped on my bare waist and his head rested on my shoulder.

This felt like bliss. Him and me. I soaked in the moment and leaned back on him.

'You don't do mundane chores love,' he said as his breathing evened and I hummed. ' You hold our family with all that you do and that's not mundane' - he raised, faced me and took my soft palms within his rough ones - 'Sacrificing your life for strangers is something men are incapable of' - he rubbed his thumb on my fingers.

'What's with this sudden...' I asked surprised with the sudden talk of how grateful he was for my presence in his life.

It's not the first time he has thanked and expressed his gratitude for me, but something about today felt different. It was not the usual, his eyes were droopy as the coffee was over long ago and hugged me. 

'I just felt like it and I don't like you devaluing what you do for me, especially after the night of fire,' he said almost like a child - a child who hated to hear his mother devaluing herself.

I sometimes wondered about the good deeds I have collected over the past lives to have this man in my life. I was a simple and traditional woman - a homemaker whose life revolved around her husband and children and occasionally my book (of what I read and write.)

'I was joking earlier. My day was indeed boring over the designing you do,' I said in an attempt to divert and joke, which I assume I do a bad job at.

'Doesn't matter, writing requires the same passion. Tell me about our latest story, wasn't it about a woman who travelled across time and married five men who were valorous warriors in history' - his eyes twinkled with excitement as we looked at the clock as it struck five- 'The kids will be here anytime soon,' we yelled together.

'Off to pick up the kids but I'm going to bug you about the story tonight!'

I again held the letter in my hands as Vayu and the kids played board games after dinner. I barely wrote anything since I received Dadda's letter and I felt weirdly guilty about it. I barely got anything done today except for the few chores I had to do.

I had excused myself citing a headache and once on my own I held the letter. I opened the letter and held it - that was all I did in the past week - open it, hold it and never read an alphabet written. 

Courage left me. I didn't know what was written but I feared the words. Words are sharper than swords and letters were a testament to the same.

You. Can. Bear. This.

I dreaded the words but words could also be reassuring, just like how swords can kill and protect people, it's the same thing.

I wanted to believe in optimism at the moment - maybe I finally knew why Dadda left all those years ago. Who knew - who knew I may find answers to the questions that always lingered on my mind. I would know them, perhaps.

My body shook with nervousness as I sat on the bed. I didn't know what was written, but if it was something out of the world, I at least fell on the bed and not the floor.

What? I have a pretty face and a delicate one. Falling on the ground meant I could break it, and that meant rest and that also meant this house would be on literal fire. So, no risks there, I'm just taking a few possible precautions to save myself.

August 20--

Dearest daughter.

Hope this letter has found you. I don't even know if this letter reached you or has passed through the hands of miscreants and then reached you. I cannot reveal much about where I am but I am fine physically, and mentally I'm unsure.

Writing this letter made me realise how much I love you. Dadda misses you every day, with every breath of his.

I am asking you for a favour - will you do me a favour, laado?

Three weeks from whenever you receive this letter a man and woman will arrive at your doorstep. They may seem strange, but you can trust them - I trust them for now and so can you, listen to all they have to say and we can perhaps reunite soon and live a happily ever after.

Waiting for your arrival

Dadda

What the actual -

My body felt numb as I read the letter over and over not understanding what was written.

I am fine physically, and mentally I'm unsure.

What did Dadda mean by that? Did someone trouble him unknown to us?

Why was the letter so weirdly dated with the month and the year not filled? When did he exactly write the letter? Where is this from?

I scrambled for the envelope inside which the letter was for any kind of address - and there was no address except for mine, the receiver. 

The letter was so ambiguous and vague that my brain ran through the worst possible conditions he could be in - was he arrested in a foreign land for something illegal and tortured to death or did some impossible secret of the past spring up and the person who knew it blackmailed Dadda.

I wanted to scream but my voice was stuck at my throat.

Tears rolled down my eyes, they were silent and barely any voice left my mouth. I was angry when he did not return from that one business trip he went on and the police declared him dead. 

He was not dead.

I cried and cried until I grew tired.

I barely knew where to look for Dadda. I knew nothing, yet I was his only hope.

I was his hope.

The words struck a chord as I felt a new strength within me, I was Dadda'shope. 

I loved Dadda to the moon and back, the anger I had was for the world believing he was dead, but in truth, he was alive somewhere in the world.

If it required me to turn the world upside down, I would do it. If it required me to destroy the world, I would do it. If it required me to sacrifice everything that I love, I would happily do it.

Dadda, by hook or crook your Laado shall bring you home safely.

It was my promise for all the years he cared for and loved me. 

This was the least I could do for the man who brought me up.

I will search for Dadda, I don't know how, but I will do it. I had to wait however for the man and woman Dadda spoke about in the letter and I didn't know who would it be.

Damn it!

Why was this so unclear? I had to wait here for two more weeks knowing nothing!

My head throbbed. I rubbed my temples and closed my eyes hoping for it to go away soon. Popping in medicines was never my thing so here goes nothing.

'What's this letter?' Vayu's voice made me snap in his direction.

In all my worry about Dadda and the letter, I didn't notice when he entered the room. I looked at the clock that hung on the wall and it was half past nine - shit, I was zoning out more than I had to.

I had a goddamn family too. Dadda is important and I would burn the world for him. But was I ready to burn my world for him?

'Jaana?' Vaayu's voice was softer as he sat beside me on the bed and held me in his arms. 

His warmth soothed my heart like no other. I rested my head on his chest and again burst into tears. I barely knew how to talk about this. His soft strokes on my hair reminded me, why he was the best gift god had given me. The erratic heartbeats steadied and I sniffled.

'Dadda,' I whimpered and clutched on his shirt.

I felt him sit still, his muscles tightened but his touch on my hair was still as gentle as it was before.

'I want Dadda' - the little vulnerable girl resurfaced after ages; I hated being this vulnerable, but Vayu was the only person I could trust - ' Dadda wrote to me' - my voice smaller than I could recognise - ' I don't know where he and what he is doing,' I sobbed in his embrace.

'I said I owed you, jaana. I am with you in this search and as for our family, I know what to do. We will find Dadda.' 

The firm determination in Vaayu's voice surprised me as I looked into his eyes. Those sea-green eyes held nothing but determination and love - blessed I was to have him.

I will find you soon, Dadda. Soon, and we will live happily ever after.

There goes the first chapter!

Exploring a first-person narrative is a very new area for me. So any suggestions on how to improve and what can be done better will be appreciated.

How was the first chapter?

 I know it's not the best, so I may edit this later after I complete the section at least👀👉👈

Do vote and comment your thoughts.

Love Siya