THE LETTER

“Maa, baba has sent us another letter”, shouted Mrinal and ran through the verandah to the kitchen where Rama was preparing  Dal for supper.

“Oh, well Roti is ready, go and call Chotu also and sit here to eat”.

“He’s playing in the ground,  it’s too far, I’m not  going there right now”.

“Okay, then ask Neeta to bring him home, it’s half past six already”

“Maa!! What is this! I want fish for dinner, it’s been days that you haven’t cooked it ” demanded Chotu,  rejecting his plate full of dull roti and dal.

“I will Mishti, this Dusshera , let Baba come, I’ll surely, I promise” said Rama half heartedly  convincing her stubborn son of her shallow vows.

“Go Manu wash your hands and read aloud the letter” she said sadly pointing Mrinal to the basin beside kitchen.

“Dear Rama”, said Mrinal loudly and chuckled.

“Stop giggling and read further”.

“Things here are not so good. They haven’t given us pay even for this month, all the teachers are on a strike and are not giving any lectures. We have the right to be paid for our hard work after all. Well, I don’t have much money left now. I have taken some from a  friend to pay the room rent, won’t be able to send any of it this time. I hope you’ll understand, I’ll come back when the strike gets over. Take care of children, love, Avinash” exhaled Mrinal in one breath.

“What we will do now Maa?”.

“I don’t know Manu, I just don’t have the idea of how we’ll manage. I have to give 100 rupees to the grocer, Neeta was also reminding me of her monthly pay, I’ve already cut the milk to 2kgs. This is the minimum that we spend, we can’t survive on any less” choked Rama but on seeing Mrinal scared,  soon got hold of herself.

“See, Baba is also facing hardships, we have to help by standing by him during this bad phase beta”

“we will Maa”, said Mrinal and cuddled into her mother’s arms, in a way assuring her that everything will be alright soon.

To Avinash Thakur

Block no 21, Ashok Nagar,

Habra.

Wrote Mrinal on the big envelope she bought on the other day while returning from school.

“and ten”, counted mrinal the third time  her  prized 1 rupee notes and slipped all her scholarship for this month into the envelope with a roughly written note.

“Avinash Babu, you’ve got a letter from home”, shouted the postman from  the other side of the road where the strike was going on.

“Wait there, I’ll be coming in a moment”, he replied loudly and hastily started crossing the jammed road filled with bonded professors protesting angrily in front of the college gate.

“Why is it torn?” asked Avinash while examining the envelope

“I don’t know sahib, I got it in this manner only, when will this strike get over?” , said postman indifferently looking at the crowd.

“It’s probably the last day, well they ought to give us our rights, they’ve troubled us enough already, can’t linger it anymore”, answered Avinash, his voice affirmative.

“Good luck with that then sahib, now I should be get going”, he said and peddled down the other side of the road.

Avinash gazed at the envelope for a while and took out the note from inside, it said,

Dear Baba,

I know we don’t have enough money right now. I thought that I could be of some help, so I’ve sent you my  10 rupees that I got from school this month. I hope this will lessen your burden a little. Waiting for you to come back soon.

Yours Manu.

A tear slipped down his cheeks when he finished reading it, he browsed the envelope for the money, but it was empty.  he laughed softly at the innocence of his child and again joined the crowd. Where the union head announced;

“Congratulations everyone, we are going to get our pay due from past six months shortly, the college authority have accepted all our demands!!, the credits goes to all of you for cooperating so much and standing against such injustice”.

“Where are you running Avinash Babu?”

“I am going home”.