I turned 18 on 10th November 2008 and I was excited to see what your father would give me. I was especially excited to see the card he would give me and I knew he would give me one. I was late in meeting him and at the end of the meeting, when it was time to go, he finally said, "I've got a card for you".
Excitedly, I accepted the yellow envelope which had 'Prastuti' written on it, probably the name of the company that made the card. Prastuti means preparation and little did I know that I should have been mentally prepared enough to see the card. I hurriedly slid the card out of the envelope to see a black cover with a beautiful red rose on it. There were a few lines written in Bengali. Before I could read it, it was time to leave. I quickly hid the card. As soon as I reached home, I ran to my room, locked the doors and took out the card slowly. My heart was beating too hard and I was smiling from ear to ear. I ran my hand over the smooth black cover, I could almost feel the soft, wet petals of the dew covered rose. I read the lines on the cover and was swept of my feet. The lines were beautiful, more so because it perfectly described your father. The four lines conveyed his love, his inability to express his love and also that his love had no reason behind it. I was nearly in tears. I opened the card to find it yellow inside with an outlined picture of a man and a woman lying on the ground and facing each other. Your father had left the card blank. There was nothing written inside, not even our names.
I was euphoric, nevertheless. I called to thank him. Repeatedly, I read the card and it meant a lot more to me every time. I complained about the fact that he had not written anything inside. He said he would so I returned the card.
The card was just not being returned to me. He was taking ages to write in it. I wanted my card back and I kept on reminding him to write in it and return it. When two weeks had passed and there was still no sign of my card being returned, I fought with him and I cried. Still there was no sign of returning the card. I pouted and said that I wouldn't take it back even if he gave it to me. At last one day, he returned it with two lines written on it. He wrote that he never thought that anyone would ever come so close to him and love him, and that he wished that would give me happiness and peace. I pretended to be happy but I was not. I was expecting a more romantic and a longer peace of writing. I was quite annoyed that he took so long to return it to me. I began to feel that he had no feelings for me.
Slowly, the card issue was forgotten between us and we both moved on. I would often read the card and every time it meant more and more to me. I began to understand why he had written so little. He had so much feeling within him that he could not put it in words, easily. That was why he took so much time to return it and wrote so little. He selected this card among so many because he found this card to be voice to his love. I was in love with this card. I would often read it cheer myself up in the difficult conditions. Whenever I felt that your father did not love me, I would read the card and reassure myself of his love. Whenever I read it I would be filled with affection for him.
One day, we were talking about various love letters I had received from other boys. Your father wanted me to throw them away for some reason. I could not understand the reason but I did as he said. When I told him that I had thrown the love letters, he jokingly said, "When will my card be thrown into the dustbin?"
I was agitated and said, "Never! I will show it to my children, grandchildren and so on! How can you ever think of such a thing?"
He said, "That's good."
One day, he was rude to me, he told me he had no time for me, he told me cannot continue the relationship. I was angry and heartbroken. I craved for his sweet self. In a moment of anger and frustration and pain, I threw the card back at him and refused to take it back. I was supposed to leave Kolkata and go for a holiday. Angry and hurt, I told him to throw away the card. While I was away he actually did. I came back and asked for the card. He was silent. After a while he said that he would return it.
Surprised at his tone of voice, I asked him what was the matter, he told me something that shattered all my happiness. He told me that he had destroyed my card while I was away. Tears came into my eyes and I refused to believed it. I suddenly remembered how I had failed to keep my word, how I had failed to keep the card safe. I felt terrible, I felt depressed and lost, I felt like hearing that what he said was not true and that there was some way to retrieve the card. Seeing me depressed, he said he would give me another card. I felt a bit of relief.
The next day he was angry and refused to give me another card. He said he wanted to test my patience so he would not give me another card so soon. I cried and pleaded but he did not agree. Suddenly, I felt like a beggar. I felt that I should just stop. He had never given me anything anyway and I did not want to beg and retrieve something that he would give me without any feeling.
Days are passing now and I only wish that he would not give me the card after all. I will never accept anything that he will give me. At that moment I asked for the card because I was badly hurt and I wanted to heal my wound. Now the wound deepens everyday. Now a feeling creeps into my heart, one which tells me that there wont be much feeling behind the new card. Now I imagine, how it must have hurt him to throw away the card. It must have felt as if he was tearing out his heart and throwing it away.
Nandini, my lesson to you is if you have hurt someone, don't let the wound deepen. Try to heal it as fast as possible. Your father does not understand how many wounds of his I have healed before it got worse. He refused to heal just one wound of mine. Forgive him, for he knows not what he does...
Excitedly, I accepted the yellow envelope which had 'Prastuti' written on it, probably the name of the company that made the card. Prastuti means preparation and little did I know that I should have been mentally prepared enough to see the card. I hurriedly slid the card out of the envelope to see a black cover with a beautiful red rose on it. There were a few lines written in Bengali. Before I could read it, it was time to leave. I quickly hid the card. As soon as I reached home, I ran to my room, locked the doors and took out the card slowly. My heart was beating too hard and I was smiling from ear to ear. I ran my hand over the smooth black cover, I could almost feel the soft, wet petals of the dew covered rose. I read the lines on the cover and was swept of my feet. The lines were beautiful, more so because it perfectly described your father. The four lines conveyed his love, his inability to express his love and also that his love had no reason behind it. I was nearly in tears. I opened the card to find it yellow inside with an outlined picture of a man and a woman lying on the ground and facing each other. Your father had left the card blank. There was nothing written inside, not even our names.
I was euphoric, nevertheless. I called to thank him. Repeatedly, I read the card and it meant a lot more to me every time. I complained about the fact that he had not written anything inside. He said he would so I returned the card.
The card was just not being returned to me. He was taking ages to write in it. I wanted my card back and I kept on reminding him to write in it and return it. When two weeks had passed and there was still no sign of my card being returned, I fought with him and I cried. Still there was no sign of returning the card. I pouted and said that I wouldn't take it back even if he gave it to me. At last one day, he returned it with two lines written on it. He wrote that he never thought that anyone would ever come so close to him and love him, and that he wished that would give me happiness and peace. I pretended to be happy but I was not. I was expecting a more romantic and a longer peace of writing. I was quite annoyed that he took so long to return it to me. I began to feel that he had no feelings for me.
Slowly, the card issue was forgotten between us and we both moved on. I would often read the card and every time it meant more and more to me. I began to understand why he had written so little. He had so much feeling within him that he could not put it in words, easily. That was why he took so much time to return it and wrote so little. He selected this card among so many because he found this card to be voice to his love. I was in love with this card. I would often read it cheer myself up in the difficult conditions. Whenever I felt that your father did not love me, I would read the card and reassure myself of his love. Whenever I read it I would be filled with affection for him.
One day, we were talking about various love letters I had received from other boys. Your father wanted me to throw them away for some reason. I could not understand the reason but I did as he said. When I told him that I had thrown the love letters, he jokingly said, "When will my card be thrown into the dustbin?"
I was agitated and said, "Never! I will show it to my children, grandchildren and so on! How can you ever think of such a thing?"
He said, "That's good."
One day, he was rude to me, he told me he had no time for me, he told me cannot continue the relationship. I was angry and heartbroken. I craved for his sweet self. In a moment of anger and frustration and pain, I threw the card back at him and refused to take it back. I was supposed to leave Kolkata and go for a holiday. Angry and hurt, I told him to throw away the card. While I was away he actually did. I came back and asked for the card. He was silent. After a while he said that he would return it.
Surprised at his tone of voice, I asked him what was the matter, he told me something that shattered all my happiness. He told me that he had destroyed my card while I was away. Tears came into my eyes and I refused to believed it. I suddenly remembered how I had failed to keep my word, how I had failed to keep the card safe. I felt terrible, I felt depressed and lost, I felt like hearing that what he said was not true and that there was some way to retrieve the card. Seeing me depressed, he said he would give me another card. I felt a bit of relief.
The next day he was angry and refused to give me another card. He said he wanted to test my patience so he would not give me another card so soon. I cried and pleaded but he did not agree. Suddenly, I felt like a beggar. I felt that I should just stop. He had never given me anything anyway and I did not want to beg and retrieve something that he would give me without any feeling.
Days are passing now and I only wish that he would not give me the card after all. I will never accept anything that he will give me. At that moment I asked for the card because I was badly hurt and I wanted to heal my wound. Now the wound deepens everyday. Now a feeling creeps into my heart, one which tells me that there wont be much feeling behind the new card. Now I imagine, how it must have hurt him to throw away the card. It must have felt as if he was tearing out his heart and throwing it away.
Nandini, my lesson to you is if you have hurt someone, don't let the wound deepen. Try to heal it as fast as possible. Your father does not understand how many wounds of his I have healed before it got worse. He refused to heal just one wound of mine. Forgive him, for he knows not what he does...
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