Dear Son !

Dear Son,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I know it’ll find you in utter surprise though. I could have just Skype-d, right? Actually, certain things have been on my mind since you left, after the funeral, last month. And you know how good I am at “speaking” my mind. Hence, this letter.

I don’t know if I thanked you enough for making it to your father’s funeral. I know how busy you are. That you travelled half way across the world just to be by my side was really touching. More so, because, I know how you felt about your father. Whatever your grudges, I hope you have been able to forgive him –because he wasn’t really at fault.

You father was not a bad man. He just had his bad days. And who doesn’t? You know now how stressful it can be for a man to slog the entire day in order to provide for his family. That stress had to come out somewhere, right? I remember how you used to stare at my bruises. Believe me; it always looks worse than it really is.

You need to know the truth about that Diwali incident though. It was completely my fault. Your father had instructed me, in no uncertain terms, that those sweets were meant for his boss. But I couldn’t say no to you, could I? That was a minor burn, really. I’ve had worse while cooking! And he is the one who took me to the doctor, remember? He had a soft heart – just a bad temper.

As for the time I broke my jaw, it really was an accident.  I fell down the stairs. I know you have never believed me on this, but it’s true. Your father didn’t notice it readily because he was sulking in his room after the minor argument we had. He was so much like a child at times. I’ll love him, always. God rest his soul.

I’m not trying to justify anything, Son. Nor are these excuses on your father’s behalf just so you could stop holding the grudges you have. It’s just that I felt you should know that it was never his fault. Just like, it’s not your fault that your wife had been desperately trying to hide the bruises by wearing those full sleeved garments in sweltering August heat. The one on her back seemed particularly bad. Belt buckle, I guess? I think you should tend to it before it leaves a nasty mark. Some marks never really fade – I’m sure you know that too.

Take care of yourself, Son. I’ll love you, always.

Ma

By

Muktobrinda Dash
Rahul Roychowdhury

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