The Last Letter

DISCLAIMER: THIS STORY IS PURE FICTION. I HAVE NO INTENTION IN RELATING THIS STORY TO REAL LIFE INCIDENTS. ITS ONLY AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION 

Prabha was pacing like a pendulum. It had been almost a week since he received a letter from his son- Pranav. He had broken ties from his family and relatives 17 years ago for a certain reason only their nuclear family knew. Pranav wanted to pursue his higher studies in films direction while his father pressured on the careers related to science grad school- hoping to build a good life for him.

Since then, Pranav hardly spoke to his father and only remained in touch with his mother Sheela through letters. And today was one of the days to be expecting a letter arrival from Pranav.

“What’s taking the mailman so long?” Prabha muttered frustrated. The only way he knew his son was doing good was through his letters to his mother.

“Did he message her instead? Did he find out I too were reading them?” He kept muttering.

He saw his wife doing the early morning Pooja very calmly. Maybe he had to relax a bit too.

“Sheela, dear, has Pranav messaged you by any chance?” He asked.

“No, Prabha. Are you nervous that you haven’t got to see any envelope yet?” She gave him a playful look.

“Yes! I don’t know but the delay is sensing me bad omens. Did you try to call him?”

“You know his profession can be tough sometimes- maybe he hasn’t got time to jot a letter yet. Give it time,” she tried to console him.

That night Prabha couldn’t sleep. He kept tossing and turning. The only moment that kept flashing in his eyes was the argument that broke hell loose that day.

“Why won’t you give me the chance to do what I love?!” 16 year old Pranav yelled. 

“You are too young to think for yourself- do I want you to be homeless and fantasise like a nomadic mental about the dreams you never got to fulfill as a director? That’s no future for my son! Look at your friend Sanjay- he quit from his parents’s ‘choice’ and chose his own path to film industry limelight imagining childish fantasies of becoming someone like SRK. And now, what’s he doing? Serving tea to his bosses in the industry, still waiting for a chance!” 

“But that’s just one of the unlucky stories! Haven’t you heard of famous directors who struggled hard but shone at their career later on?” 

“No one can just dream and get their dreams done! Not everyone can be James Cameron or- shit I can hardly remember any directors- this is what happens! You give a fantastic blockbuster and yet nobody would remember you!” 

“That’s just your poor memory,” Pranav narrowed his glance. 

“You’ve got some nerve, eh?” Prabha pulled his son by the collar of his shirt as Sheela kept trying to pacify them. He pulled him to his grandma’s ofrenda by the Pooja room. 

“Say that in front of her. That you want to become a film director. You loved your grandma didn’t you? She yearned to see you in a good place. If you said what you said to me when she was alive, her reason of death would have been you!” Prabha yelled, anger fuming in his eyes. 

“PRABHA!!” Sheela finally raised her voice. Tears pooled Pranav’s eyes. Prabha realised his words. 

“P-Pranav-“ 

“I will go to a science grad school. The profession is your choice. Do what you want- my life is in your hands now.” Pranav blankly left the scene. 

That fateful day turned bitter for them all. Pranav left the house the next day, with a wrong page with his father, and a promise to try to his mother. That was the last time they heard his voice. He was later put into a science school in Mumbai on the pretext to become an engineer. From that day, the family knew he was fine only through letters.

—————————————— 

 “When did you last talk to him?” Inspector Lalit Kumar Kushal, had been interrogating Prabha and Sheela. It had been a week and a half since he got the letter from Pranav. The worried father decided to enquire at the police station. Pranav hadn’t picked up his phone calls and landlines despite the several tries from Sheela’s number. 

“It has been three weeks since his last letter,” Prabha informed him. His nerves were restless- his patience kept failing him but he had to remain calm.

“Do you have any recent pictures of him?” Sheela picked the photograph of a young teen boy with an unusual smile looking thin and wearing round spectacles.

“This is the recent photograph?” Lalit asked surprised. The couple nodded.

“We haven’t been together much,” Sheela tried to hide the crackle in her voice.

“We’ll find him soon, ma’am. We just need you to sign this file to assure our case is valid to investigate,” 

Sheela looked at the file that read MISSING.

“No no, my son is not missing! You just have to search where he is residing here that’s it! He’s not missing!” Sheela kept babbling petrified.

“I’m sorry sir, I will console her, Sheela this is just a file to allow them to investigate- we just have to sign it.” Prabha tried his best to convince her. She finally gave in the courage to lift the pen.

“Thank you sir, ma’am. The first information we get will be informed straight to you, don’t worry,” Lalit assured them as they left.

“Mr. Mishra!” Lalit called his sub inspector officer “Make your eyes useful for once- instead of gawking at the women pictures in your magazine try to read this file out to me. It’s a hot new case!”

Mishra hastily opened the file.

<<<<<<< FILE NO. 000002019>>>>>>> 

NAME: PRANAV VENKATRAMAN 

NATIONALITY: INDIAN 

AGE: 33

MARITAL STATUS: SINGLE 

FATHER: PRABHAS VENKATRAMAN 

MOTHER: SHEELA VENKATRAMAN 

RESIDING AREA: CHENNAI 

EMPLOYMENT STATUS: RAMCO INDUSTRIES

LAST SIGHTED: MARIGOLD LODGERS, PILOT STREET, MUMBAI

MISSING SINCE/FROM: 30th JANUARY 2024, MUMBAI 

“They are tamil?” Lalit asked. Mishra nodded.

“We’ve to crack this somehow- don’t let it leak to the paparazzi or they will spiral this case into stereotypes. Got it?” Lalit ordered him as Mishra just nodded.

… 

“In your mind, you blame me, don’t you?” Prabha asked his silent wife staring at the window.

“If you had just considered giving him a chance, things wouldn’t be as bad as it was now,” she stated.

“I didn’t want my son loitering around with a foolish dream in his head while he was struggling to barely live- I wanted him to have a better future!” Prabha exclaimed.

“The way you said it was poor, Prabha, accept that at least! You knew how much Pranav loved your mother. Her death was an unbearable news for him. You utilised his emotions for your personal gain. I honestly didn’t expect that from you,” 

“So my lacs of money I spent on him is a waste now?!” Prabha frustratedly yelled.

“There, still worrying about your pieces of paper when your son is literally missing!” Sheela yelled back “I thought I loved you when we got married, Prabha. But after marriage you’ve changed- a lot.”

Prabha stared at his wife. He felt guilty of his actions now.

“What do you expect from me now?” Prabha sighed “We’re old now, Sheela. Our young days are over. Get real,” 

“Love survives a long time, Prabha, Longer than our existence. It is an inevitable and immortal emotion. Our old age doesn’t define it. Okay, scratch our love- what about the love for your son? Is that real at least?”

Prabha was rethinking the moments he spent when his son was still in touch with the family- he had hardly showed him a hint of comfort and love as a father. He kept worrying about his future, while missing the time of his present.

“I thought so,” Sheela stormed out the door to her son’s room.

Prabha was just standing still unsure of what to do. He looked at his mom’s offenda picture.

“Ma, help me,” he silently sobbed.

—————————————————

“How do we break it to them?” Lalit asked in concern to Mishra.

“We have to tell them sir. It’s the truth.” Mishra sadly bent his head.

“I have a son too, Mishra. Somewhere near his age. I just imagined myself in their shoes and I can’t bare it.” Lalit shook his head.

“It’s a surprise we have looked into this case sir. Most cops close it as suicide. But it is after thorough investigation that we can conclude it,” Mishra sighed.

“Call them over,” Lalit finally ordered.

… 

The news was a shock wave. Prabha was numb to its effect while the tears spoke louder. Sheela’s sobs traveled and echoed in the room.

““He was our only son…” Prabha sobbed “I killed him,” He kept smacking himself. Sheela tried to console him.

“No no you did your best you could,” Sheela managed to crack from her cries.

Pranav’s corpse was recovered from the last lodge he had been residing in. Sheela’s heavy tears could form a flood. Prabha felt he wasn’t even worthy to shed a few tears. He kept consoling his poor wife. His memories trailed back to the time of their engagement, when he had proposed. He had promised to keep her happy. Looking back, Prabha realised his life became meaningless. He didn’t deserve to live, he thought.

The ritual rites was being carried. As Prabha stood to burn the pyre of his son’s, he had imagined Pranav in his shoes to do the honours for him when the right time came. He cheated.

That night, both of them couldn’t sleep. It was like the bed was made out of needles. Every time they dozed off they would wake up with a jerk. They were both facing nightmares. Nightmares of the different ways their son could have died. It wasn’t the same feeling anymore. The feeling of knowing that their son was still fine somewhere wasn’t doing any good for them.

Months passed. Prabha’s health worsened. He had been taking all the guilt and blame for their loss. Sheela tried her best to advise him to move on- that’s what they could do. It wouldn’t bring their dead son back to life. But Prabha wouldn’t listen.

“I don’t deserve to live,” he kept saying every time.

“At least live for me,” Sheela kept convincing him.

“What did I do good for you at the time when I could do it?” Prabha would counter.

And the events repeated - Sheela found herself lighting the pyre of her late husband’s. Her silent tears drenched the solid rocks. Before his body was buried in the hay stack, Sheela tucked an envelope in his shirt pocket.

“The last letter,” she whispered in his ear “The one you wanted to see. All this time, he had been writing for me. But this time, he chose to write to you. He didn’t want you to know. So I hid it from you when I should have given you at the time you were suffering yourself. But the love of my son blinded me. I’m sorry,” 

————————————————————-

Dear Appa 

I don’t know when you would get the chance to read this letter, but I still muster the courage to write it to you. Letters are not the fashion these days, definitely true. But this is my way of expression. How I like to show my feelings.

Appa, that day, 17 years ago, is still sweet milk fresh in my memory. Your words were out of care, I know. But it poked me hard. Sanjay was unlucky. His life didn’t pick him up. But appa, as a director, you need mental strength. And I think I don’t have it.

So this letter is to say thank you for trying to open my eyes. But I failed to open them. But you shouldn’t have pulled grandma in. That’s what hurt me.

It was my childhood aspiration, appa. Everyone says I’m lucky to have a dad like you when I told them my story. They say their fathers hardly care for them- they haven’t felt his love even. Thinking back, yes I’m fortunate enough in that case.

But engineering isn’t my dream either, dad. I finally found my true calling- But life’s too late now. This is life’s missing piece, appa. This dream you want to become is your spark. It only occurs later in your life. That’s the only disadvantage. Few lucky people find it early - but I’m not one of them.

I’m failing, appa. I’m prey to drugs now. But I’ve had hard lessons to learn that coke is bad. But I can’t get out of it. I’m an addict. I’m not the Pranav you wanted me to be. Im sorry, appa.

You are the best dad I could ask for, appa. Please forgive your useless son. We will meet again soon.

In another life, 

Pranav Venkatraman