THE LETTER

                                                                   THE LETTER

                            

 

“ i don’t remember which day it is . days and nights all appear same to me . for me the calendar stopped the day jee results were out . its been a week since that dreaded day . within a day i was reduced from being a bright intelligent independent student  of india to an ordinary vella bekar worthless student rotting in this wonderful country . the CBSE merit letter hangs but it looks it is mocking me . i have been in the 1% or top 500 students in english in country but i have been  somewhere at 50,000 in jee . and that freaking three letters count more . this is not a country of writers or directors .one day three hours some 200 questions and your fate is fixed . actually it was packed , sealed and delivered since the day i was born it just needed the right courier service .

After wasting 2 years of life in writing doing dramas doing an intern at times now i was at mercy of donations for my future . to be an engineer . what does that mean. I know am writing rubbish and it does not make any sense but i  need to express myself . tomorrow is a very important day for me . “

She could not control more and the drops started to pour heavily .  it has been two days since she last saw her son . the doomed day keeps on playing in a loop in her mind . he said that he was going to check the dit’s cut off list and in her absent mind she forgot he could have checked it in home only . she kept on blaming herself . if she had given little less pressure her son would still be alive . coming anytime with his basketball and hug her . if she had been a little passionate towards him he would have been a great writer not an engineer but the most important he would have been alive . it was a summer season and loo was blowing in its full fury but inside her  she was choked with flood . news came today morning . police arrived at their house with a news of a shredded body found at the rail tracks . the post mortem report is still to come and the body is at morgue .

He was calm and composed . he knew he had to be in senses though his heart was exploding . he never knew the scolding would have such an effect on him . he felt sorry and hopelessly wished to go back in time to the day when he tore down his son’s poetry in a fate of rage .he had to go to the police station for the formalities . he need to write something so he took a pen from his son’s desk but could not . the ink has dried . the pen has stopped for ever .

 

{HAPPY CHILDREN’S DAY }