I knew my Chhota mama had been a martyr. So I read on-

page 3 of letter-

I was a young, pregnant widow and had lost her love. I was proud of my husband, but I had a huge life ahead. But this was the least of the shocks life dealt me.

Now I want you to go to Darjeeling and meet the person in the given address and they will tell you the rest of the story. Please keep an open mind and I beg you to not judge me. I love you beta... letter ended here.

I had tears in my eyes. Soon I gathered myself and started dialling the number in the letter. A lady answered, " Hello Janasya beta. So you must have read the letter. I am your Massi (aunt) and you are welcome here." But I had no Massi. one cousin Massi was in London. Ok.. another twist to my ever-growing maze of events. "Massiji... I will reach in 3 days," I said. "Your cousin will pick you up at the Bagdogra Airport", was the reply.

So on a Tuesday morning in April, I was standing on roadside and looking at the majestic Kanchenjunga. It was spectacular, and it was cold. My cousin, Shivik, had received me at the airport and we were on our way to Darjeeling. I was feeling a connection to the place... as if I belonged...

... to be continued










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