Undelivered Letters

Ravi ji, 68, the postmaster of the year's old village near the Panchgani, Maharashtra, had served there for over 38 years without any complaints. But the only thing that infuriated him the most that "Sector 19", the only route he hated to deliver the letters. For years, he had faithfully made the journey to this remote village battling through the harshest of weather conditions. Yet, despite his dedication, the villagers remained ungrateful, never acknowledging the hardships he endured to deliver their mail.

Amidst his annoyance, Ravi couldn't shake off the strange feeling that lingered every time he approached Sector 19. It wasn't just the unfriendly weather or the ungrateful villagers that unsettled him; it was the strange coincidence that whoever he had to deliver a letter to always seemed to be waiting near the village entrance. The other day it was The Vadiyars, who were waiting for the letter sent by their son from his cantonment; arguing with Ravi ji in a harsh tone that how long they were standing in the bad weather for the letter. It was as if they knew he was coming and expecting him at that very moment. Yet, Ravi ji as usual picked up the letter with anger from his jhola(a carry bag hanging around the shoulder) and dumped the letter on their hand and walked away, neither did the Vadiyars show some respect of that the poor postman had to deliver the letter in such a weather. Nevertheless, Ravi ji found a strange comfort in the fact that he never had to navigate the maze of Sector 19's alleys and lanes, always finding his recipients relentlessly waiting near the village arch. It was a peculiar mystery that he couldn't unravel but one that he had grown accustomed to over the years.

As Ravi ji prepared to retire from his decades-long service, he shared the news with his son, relieved that he would no longer have to make the arduous journey to Sector 19. But his son's response sent shockwaves through his being. "Sector 19?" his son exclaimed incredulously. "But that's impossible. It was dest

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royed in the bombing war 101 years ago, and there has been no one inhabiting that place since then." Somehow Ravi ji was totally unaware about this fact as he was the only person to serve that village for past 30 years. Ravi's heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to comprehend the revelation. How could it be? Had he been delivering letters to a village that no longer existed? The realization hit him like a thunderbolt, shattering his perception of reality.

As he hung up the phone, Ravi ji felt a chill run down his spine. As Ravi ji embarked on his final delivery to Sector 19, a sense of unease swept past by him, intensified by the strange mist that enveloped the village. But today, there was no rain; instead, a thick mist covering the village, as if the very earth let out its breath all together. As he passed through the village arch, a sudden gust of wind swept through the mist, making everything in and around crystal clear. And what lay before Ravi left him frozen in disbelief. Rows upon rows of gravestones stretched out before him, each one bearing a familiar name - The Vadiyars, The Ranjans, The Gills, The Mehtas. With a sinking heart, Ravi realized the truth that had eluded him for so long. As Ravi walked among the graves, he made a chilling discovery that sent shivers down his spine. Each letter he had ever delivered to people at Sector 19 was mysteriously placed at the foot of the assigned person's grave. But Ravi ji vividly remembered delivering those letters to the living, not to the deceased who now rested beneath the earth. A cold realization dawned upon him, sending a wave of dread through his entire being. 

Sector 19 was not a village of the living, but a graveyard of lost souls, trapped in an eternal limbo between life and death. For in that moment, he realized that some mysteries were not meant to be unraveled, lest they unleash forces beyond comprehension.

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