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Lost And Found
(This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.)
_______________________________
Dear Mother,
After all these years, I do not know how to begin. But I must. So, I shall begin by saying, I am sorry.
I am sorry that I "ran away" when I was 13, without an explanation, without a trace. I should have told you everything. But I didn't. And I am sorry. I know how much pain it must have caused you when you waited night after night for me to come home and run into your arms.
But, I was so scared. I didn't know how to tell you...
After father left for the war in 1941, never to return again, your life had fallen apart with a four-year-old in your arms. But you found your strength in Mr. Roy and decided to stay back in Calcutta. You found a job at the telegram office and did everything you could to put food on the table while maintaining our estate.
Soon, he became more than just your counsellor. You married him when I was seven. Although I barely remembered my father, I knew Mr. Roy wasn't family. You sensed my reluctance and you desperately wished for us to get along. And believe me, mother, I tried.
You had to dismiss all the workers for we could no longer afford them and I always found myself alone inside the house. So, in the beginning, I enjoyed his company.
He took me out for ice-cream, books, concerts and bought me my first long playing record. Gradually, the counsellor in him started to help me come to terms with my father's death.
I didn't have any friends in school so, I started confiding in him as well. I told him of my secrets and my dreams.
I told him that I always watched you cook and I wanted to have my own restaurant where I could feed everyone and fatten them up. He bought me a book of recipes. I told him that I wanted to travel to the centre of the earth just like Jules Verne did. And we sketched out a plan based on the book.
Life was not perfect but it was good.
One day when I was almost thirteen, I told him about this boy that I liked in my class, that I was too afraid to approach him because everyone would laugh at me, and the teachers would scold me. I said that I was too ashamed of myself but I couldn't help it either.
He said, "It's ok, son. There's nothing to be ashamed of." He told me that it's normal to feel the way I did, that I wasn't odd. I felt so free that evening. And for the first time, I whispered, "Thanks... dad..." He smiled and hugged me.
That night, after you were asleep on vodka, like always, he came to my room. I was awake, and I beamed. I wanted to talk to him more about how I felt. And we did, for hours. He told me all the science about it.
The next day he brought me a few books on homosexuality. "Always be who you are, son. It's important," he said. I hugged him again. I was so happy, mother.
While you went to work, I started going with him to his chamber to talk more and more. It was like he was my best friend.
I asked, "Don't you think I should tell my mum?" He sprang up and responded, "Oh, no, no, not yet!" Then he relaxed a little. " You see, she's in a tough place and is not ready for such a big news. Be patient, son."
I nodded and walked home, prepared myself some eggs and went up to my room. I thought about the boy I liked. "Don't tell him, yet.", Mr. Roy had warned.
That weekend you went to your aunt's place in Darjeeling. I stayed back with Mr. Roy. I remember how you kissed my forehead, and hugged me on that bright September morning of 1950. No matter what Mr. Roy said, I made up my mind to tell you my secret because I thought you'd understand. So, I waited for you to return.
That evening, I prepared dinner with Mr. Roy and he...
_______________________________
Dear Mother,
After all these years, I do not know how to begin. But I must. So, I shall begin by saying, I am sorry.
I am sorry that I "ran away" when I was 13, without an explanation, without a trace. I should have told you everything. But I didn't. And I am sorry. I know how much pain it must have caused you when you waited night after night for me to come home and run into your arms.
But, I was so scared. I didn't know how to tell you...
After father left for the war in 1941, never to return again, your life had fallen apart with a four-year-old in your arms. But you found your strength in Mr. Roy and decided to stay back in Calcutta. You found a job at the telegram office and did everything you could to put food on the table while maintaining our estate.
Soon, he became more than just your counsellor. You married him when I was seven. Although I barely remembered my father, I knew Mr. Roy wasn't family. You sensed my reluctance and you desperately wished for us to get along. And believe me, mother, I tried.
You had to dismiss all the workers for we could no longer afford them and I always found myself alone inside the house. So, in the beginning, I enjoyed his company.
He took me out for ice-cream, books, concerts and bought me my first long playing record. Gradually, the counsellor in him started to help me come to terms with my father's death.
I didn't have any friends in school so, I started confiding in him as well. I told him of my secrets and my dreams.
I told him that I always watched you cook and I wanted to have my own restaurant where I could feed everyone and fatten them up. He bought me a book of recipes. I told him that I wanted to travel to the centre of the earth just like Jules Verne did. And we sketched out a plan based on the book.
Life was not perfect but it was good.
One day when I was almost thirteen, I told him about this boy that I liked in my class, that I was too afraid to approach him because everyone would laugh at me, and the teachers would scold me. I said that I was too ashamed of myself but I couldn't help it either.
He said, "It's ok, son. There's nothing to be ashamed of." He told me that it's normal to feel the way I did, that I wasn't odd. I felt so free that evening. And for the first time, I whispered, "Thanks... dad..." He smiled and hugged me.
That night, after you were asleep on vodka, like always, he came to my room. I was awake, and I beamed. I wanted to talk to him more about how I felt. And we did, for hours. He told me all the science about it.
The next day he brought me a few books on homosexuality. "Always be who you are, son. It's important," he said. I hugged him again. I was so happy, mother.
While you went to work, I started going with him to his chamber to talk more and more. It was like he was my best friend.
I asked, "Don't you think I should tell my mum?" He sprang up and responded, "Oh, no, no, not yet!" Then he relaxed a little. " You see, she's in a tough place and is not ready for such a big news. Be patient, son."
I nodded and walked home, prepared myself some eggs and went up to my room. I thought about the boy I liked. "Don't tell him, yet.", Mr. Roy had warned.
That weekend you went to your aunt's place in Darjeeling. I stayed back with Mr. Roy. I remember how you kissed my forehead, and hugged me on that bright September morning of 1950. No matter what Mr. Roy said, I made up my mind to tell you my secret because I thought you'd understand. So, I waited for you to return.
That evening, I prepared dinner with Mr. Roy and he...
