The Letter

Dear… Guy to whom I am writing my last letter,

It’s been a long time since I wrote to you. I was busy. But I am sure; you have no complaints since you don’t reply back to any of my letters anyway. No, I am not disappointed. I am stopping here. There will be no more letters. Not to you or anyone, anymore.

The day you left, I feared you leaving me more emotionally than physically. You made me believe that was impossible. I trusted you. I am glad I did. At least now I don’t regret anything. I will never need to look back and think “What if I gave myself that chance?”

I am glad we shared a wonderful journey. From being complete strangers to a beautiful bond of friendship and understanding that ultimately bloomed into the feeling I feared the most… Love.

I still remember the day you left. It was pouring heavily. The sky did what I couldn’t as I smiled strongly holding back my tears. You were chasing your dreams; I couldn’t be your weakness. You had promised me nothing will change. Well, you didn’t. Your hug did. I heard what you never said. Assumed you were not good with words.

The first few months were the toughest. I was getting used to life without you. I wrote down everything I felt, saw and experienced in the letters to you. Your first letter made my heart dance. My friends teased me saying we were old-fashioned lovers. It was rare and perfect. The way it felt. Maybe too perfect. As I feared.

I kept reading the letter until each one of the punctuation was vivid in my memory. Like it was the only thing to keep me going, my reason to live.

But I didn’t know that it was your last one as well. I waited religiously, every month, for replies that never arrived. All that I got were excuses. People around me had started speculating. Friends, family. They were sure you had lost interest. Why wouldn’t you? The world was such a large place full of options.

I had to face it; you had drifted away, and eventually, the calls decreased in the name of work. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. I didn’t want to confront you from miles away. So, I waited.

I didn’t know that one phone call could change my life forever. Make me question myself. My senses and feelings. My doubts and expectations. I met you after two years. Yes, you had changed. You appeared more calm and composed. Perhaps nervous about what you were about to say. Your face scared me. I felt like my worst nightmare was coming true.

It’s been almost a year since that day. I have been busy in life. The way it shaped and turned out to be. You have been busy in yours in a different country. You had travelled across half the world for your work perhaps. I was busy making a home for myself, the way I wanted.

This is my last letter to you. Because I moved on. I moved on from being in a long-distance relationship, endless waits, and being the girlfriend you never ever spoke to about your feelings. I moved on from being the girl who waited while you travelled the world. I am done waiting for you.

Today onward, we start a new journey. And looking back, I am glad we met. I am glad you came into my life. As my lesson, experience, and love. I am glad you called that day. And I had left all the uncertainties to see you.

Because…

From this day we start afresh. We travel. Together. Stay Together. Dream together. We build a home together. I am glad you gave me everything and more.

Yours, always.

Mrs. Ajabdeh Pratap Singh.

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Chapter One: Masquerades

“Reginald Dyer is yet to apologise for the incident which was criticised worldwide. Punjab is on high alert.” The transistor in the living room broke with the morning news. “On other news the League of Nations…” Meera wiped the already clean surface of the showcase for the second time while listening to it. One of the servants came around and switched the channel to a station where a Raga played. Meera tip-toed up to the transistor and looked around before lowering the volume. She was standing outside the door of the Magistrate’s home office, clad in a saree borrowed from Nimai’s mother, who worked at her Pishima’s house. “I need it for my maid back where I work.” Meera lied with a straight face. Nimai’s mother did not care; she was getting Didimoni’s beautiful blue Jamdani instead of her tattered clothes; she would not think twice about this unharming exchange. Meera tried to listen. The gardener sang outside, tending to the flowerbeds as his scissors snipped the bushes back to shape

His Wife

" Where is the Kesar, Rama? And the Kalash?" Ajabde looked visibly displeased at the daasi who ran. " They are at the fort gates and nothing is ready yet!" She exclaimed. She was clad in a red Jora and the jewellery she had inherited as the first Kunwarani of the crown prince. Little Amar ran down the hallway towards his mother. " Maa sa Maa sa... who is coming with Daajiraj?" His innocent question made her heart sink. " Bhanwar Ji." Sajja Bai called out to him. " Come here I will tell you." Amar rushed to his Majhli Dadisa. " Ajabde." She turned at Jaivanta Bai's call. "They are here." " M... My Aarti thali..." Ajabde looked lost like never before. Jaivanta Bai held her stone-cold hands, making her stop. She patted her head and gave her a hug. The hug gave her the comfort she was looking for as her racing heart calmed down. Jaivanta Bai left her alone with her thaal. " Maa sa!" Amar exclaimed

Protibimbo: Characters

Before Indian Independence Movement gained its prominence and momentum in the year 1930 across Bengal with the weaponry loot by Surya Sen, attacks across the offices of British Raj in Bengal by Bengal Volunteers, Jugantar Dol and other prominent anarchists, and Binoy-Badal-Dinesh stormed into Writers' Building, the 1920s were a built up to the movement when several large and small scale anarchist groups worked underground to strike the system of British Governance. It was a time when Indians realised that conferences did not bring independence to colonies, they had to pick up arms against the British Imperialists. This story is fictional. But in its core, every character represents several hundred unnamed heroes and sheroes of our freedom struggle whose names do not appear in the pages of history. " Protibimbo " meaning reflection is a story that reflects on relationships, freedom, sacrifice and battles fought within the society of that time. Characters: Abhaya: 15-year-o

She Left...

The war was over and so were the hopes of regaining Chittor. The Battle at Haldighati had robbed the Rana of all his wealth, and brave men, and bruised him for life. Trying to match up to Akbar or rather Raja Man Singh's army with one-third its strength had cost his bravery dearly. He had lost his friend and companion. He had brushed past death. The only good thing that this war ensured was that Akbar accepted that he cannot have Mewar. His army retreated and left the country in peace after almost two decades and seventeen wars. This war gave something else too. Kunwar Shakti came to help his brother in his time of need. He lived up to his brother's expectations of being loyal to his family. A heavy-hearted Rana Pratap Singh was overseeing the construction work on his lost friend's memorial right where he died, trying to save his master. The Bronze statue of the life-like Chetak stood tall but was no match for the void Chetak has left behind. He was lost in his thoughts as

Destiny

The war was almost won. A few of Marwar’s soldiers were left on the field along with Rao Maldeo Singh Rathore, their king and leader. He was thinking of retreating at the end of this day. As his sword clashed with one of the opponent generals as he eyed the opponent King now open and prone to attack. A little hope flickered in his mind as his eyes instructed his closest aide. The opponent was quite in a winning situation thanks to their new Senapati. He was just 16 yet his bravery and valour reflected his blood and upbringing. He mesmerised the opponents and even Rao Maldeo with his clever war strategies and sword skills. As Maldeo’s aide swung his sword at a taken aback Udai Singh, someone’s sword defended it as his body acted like a shield for the king. He killed the man in one go. “ Ranaji are you okay?” “ Haan Raoji.” He nodded gratefully. By half the day, the Marwar army had retreated as the air filled with “ Jai Mewar! Jai Eklingji!” From the triumphant soldiers. Rana Udai Si

Towards You

Kunwar Pratap and Ajabde were friends. He didn't feel awkward sharing his plans and thoughts with her anymore. She was more than happy to advise him on everything. She was happy he listened to her advice before taking or discarding them, be it on what to wear to Padmavati's Sagai or how to befriend the revolting Bhils. He loved the way Ajabde always used metaphors from Puranas and Ramayanas to explain the toughest things so easily. She expressed herself so well, so easily that it amazed him. The Afghans were now led by Mehmood Shah. They have made secret territories in the forests and waited to attack. Rawatji and his spies had confirmed the news and Udai Singh had warned Mehmood Shah to withdraw his troops from Mewar in vain. Now, it was time they declared war. Mehmood Shah had limited resources in Mewar. And his spies clearly suggested that in no way could he win, especially with Kunwar Pratap leading his troops. He was having second thoughts about the war. One of his aides

My Everything

Kunwar Pratap stormed into the Mahal at Gogunda. Happy faces of the chieftains and soldiers welcomed him as Rao Ramrakh and Rawatji stopped the ongoing Raj tilak. A visibly scared Kunwar Jagmal looked clueless at a visibly angry Kunwar Pratap. Rani Dheerbai Bhattiyani hadn't expected this son of Mewar to show up that too twenty-one days after his father's death. He was not informed as per Dheerbai's instructions. She looked at Rawat Ji. He must have gone to Raoji at Bijolia. No one except them knew where Kunwar Pratap was staying. It was for the safety of his family. " What are you doing Chotima?" A disappointed voice came. She could stoop down so low? " We were about to inform you..." She spoke up in her defence. " When Dheerbai ji?" Maharani Jaivanta Bai, clad in white entered the hall as people bowed before her. " After your son's coronation?" " I did nothing Badima I swear!" A low voice came from Jagmal. " Maha

Struggle of Thoughts

Kunwar Pratap and Ajabde had both by the first week known each other's schedules well and they made sure that their timings didn't clash, be it in the puja Ghar, dressing room or elsewhere. They tried to stay out of each other's way as much as possible, giving each other the space they needed. Ajabde had learned that Kunwar Pratap preferred cold sharbat and desserts over steaming hot food, he liked to wake up with the first bird's call at dawn, he didn't like any disturbances at work or at the Dangal Sthal, and he loved his mother the most. Kunwar Pratap had learned that she was intelligent enough to decipher unsaid words between the lines of any novel, epic or book she read. She was very much into spending most of her time reading or sewing and when outside he always spotted her in the garden tending to flowers with his sisters. What he saw was how similar her lifestyle was to his mother's in a very weird way. She liked things simple, preferred to make her own

Chapter Two: Catastrophe

Abhaya was suffocating as she could now taste the soot and ash in her mouth. She could see the smoke engulf her. The boxes around her turned into shadows in the blurred vision. She opened her mouth to breathe but the choking air wanted to make her cough. She ran, stumbling upon some boxes and utensils towards the window on the other side. It was shut firmly and her weak hands could do little to move it an inch. She placed the end of her saree over her face and coughed, hoping not to be heard from the outside. The sound of chaos and footsteps outside was increasing. She heard a scream. Was it her mother? Her sister? Or one of the sisters-in-law? Were they escaping? Should she try too? She tried to find something to break the window with, but instead, she froze at the sight of flames entering through the cracks of the door she had shut behind her. Abhaya said a soft prayer. This is how it ends. This was not the country her father served. This was not the country her mother read stories o

Soul Meet: Anticipated Encounter

This post is a part of the series "Soul Meet" so if you have not read previous posts kindly read it here. Ajabdeh submitted her paper and shut her laptop down for the weekend. Her home desk had pictures on the walls. Pictures he had clicked of her on every trip they took together. Across the country. Sometimes planned, sometimes unplanned. Long distance was tough, but in between the struggle of constantly being active on their phones to keep in touch with calls, texts, emails and video calls there was a sense of individuality, identity and liberty in it that she enjoyed. Now and then they would meet at a spot in between somewhere and go on trips. Hike to mountains, laze at beaches and try adventure sports. Everything she experienced in the past year was ticked off her bucket list. Each memory now sat glued to her desk wall, in pictures he clicked. He was a good photographer and she: his muse. She was surprised when he called the previous day saying he would be coming to se

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