Chapter Twenty-Two
Sureva Bhalekar
St. Mary’s Ladies Hostel
Charni Road, Bombay
October 1983
Vasudha Patil
[Address left blank]
Dear Vasu,
Where are you? Is your eye better? Have your fingers healed? Please tell me they’re not hurting you. (If someone else is reading this, please please don’t hurt her.)
For the past three months, I’ve been begging the gods for some sign that you’re okay. But after getting your letter, I know they’re not listening. I miss you so much it’s like I can’t feel myself. Sometimes I slap my own limbs to make sure I’m here. But I will leave you alone, I will let you go, if that makes them stop hurting you.
Why am I even writing this letter? I don’t know where I’m going to send it. Are you still in Yevla? I don’t know where you are, Vasu! How can that be? For the entirety of my life I’ve always known exactly where you are.
You probably already know this, but Appa-saheb came to me and asked for all the letters you’d sent me. When I told him I always throw all my letters away because I don’t want the girls in the hostel to read my business, I saw a flash of rage in his eyes. He knew I was lying and couldn’t believe that I had the arrogance to deny his orders. He concealed it immediately, but I have a sense that will not be the end of it. The hostel warden was standing just outside the open door so he couldn’t do much more then. He knows I have the letters. I’ll die before I give them to him. But he knows everything between us. I saw it in his eyes. Did he read my letter to you? The one I should never have written.
I suspect my aie knows all of it too. He fired her for my actions.
Or she left because she’s ashamed of me. I no longer recognize my own mother. She refuses to hear any mention of you. She seems terrified, as though she knows someone is going to hurt us. She’s livid with me. She blames me for taking away her home. Was it ever her home, though, if they threw her out so easily? They think separating our families means separating us. They’re breaking every connection between us. I know Appa-saheb is punishing me, but throwing Aie out when she has nowhere to go feels like a threat, like he’s not done.
January 1984
Vasu, I just found out. How could you do this? You told me no one but me would ever touch you and you got married? I feel destroyed, ripped up. I don’t know how I can live through this.
Everything that has ever happened to me in my life has been bearable because you showed me how to get through it. Because you knew who I was even when I had no idea. Now who will tell me what to do? How will I know who I am?
No, this cannot be. They’ve forced you to do this and I wasn’t there to protect you. What did they say to you? Did they threaten to hurt me?
I’m safe. Do you hear me? I’m safe. Don’t do anything because you think you’re protecting me. They’re lying to you.
February 1984
Vasu, I don’t know why I’m still writing because I know for sure now that I have nowhere to send this letter. But if ever I find a way I want you to know what happened. I want you to not believe whatever lies they’ve told you. Yesterday, my aie and I moved in with a friend of Ashatai Athavale in Thane after some thugs followed me into an alley. They pushed a knife to my throat. Do not worry, I’m unharmed, their aim was to scare me and give me a message from your appa. He wanted me to know that if I ever tried to contact you or your new family or told anyone about what he calls our sickness he would set my aie on fire. When I came home I found my aie waiting at my hostel. Her shanty in Yevla where she moved after she left your parents’ house was burned down in the night. She escaped with minimal burns and ran to me in Bombay and I had to get her to safety.
Being angry should have made my sadness less but a boulder sits on my heart. I will carry it for the rest of my life, Vasu. My yearning for you will only die with me. But how will I last from this day until that one?
April 1984
I haven’t heard from you in six months. It’s felt like six years. Today was the day I was waiting for. The day I know you saw so clearly for me. Columbia University in America has admitted me into their biomedical engineering graduate program on a full scholarship. I also have a teaching assistantship, which means I can support us now. This was always my plan. To take you with me to New York, where I’m told death does not await those who are made by the creator the way we are.
In New York we have a chance. Please tell me it is not too late. It cannot be too late. I know you’re married now but it cannot be a real marriage. I don’t think I can leave India without you.
With every beat of my heart I pray that you come back to me.
Yours and only yours,
Suru