February Story Series:

It Rained Stories

Granny’s Last Mango Season

Dear God,

I am doing good. It took me a long time to write this letter because I was busy with my summer jobs. The place I was working in the mornings, my first job,  was in a neighboring town and it took me more than an hour to get there. The second job was in a stationary store nearby and I would get back home ( yes, i have finally started calling this place as my home) only by dusk.

My first job was to read newspapers to an old man who could hardly see. He got half a dozen newspapers everyday and I had to read out all of them to him. It took me one and a half hours to read the first paper and the remaining papers took close to 45 minutes each. Thank you (God) for the same news being repeated in all the newspapers. It is however strange that each of them tell it in a different way. The old man told me that we have to read at least three of them to know the “real” news. But he prefers to read (be read)  six! I do not go there on Sundays and so, on Monday’s I have a lot of reading to do. I wonder why newspapers don’t close shop on Sundays. Isn’t sunday supposed to be the Rest Day?

My second job at the stationary shop was fun. A lot of kids came over to buy markers and papers and paints. The red markers were getting over as soon as we stocked them up. Looks like there are a lot of people using red markers these days.

I saved up some money for my college fund. Thank You for understanding and waiting for my letter.

I received the clothes and the books that you sent to me through different people. They are good and will last me for an year.

I will write my next letter as soon as I get time.

As always, I want to end this letter by asking you the same questions: Why did you take my parents away from me? Why did it rain so heavily that year? Why did the bridge collapse? Why was their car on the bridge at that time?  

I miss them a lot. I hope you will tell them about my summer jobs and my college fund. That should make them happy.

With Love,
Your Child.

The Postman kept the letter safe with him and used it to raise fund for the orphanage where the boy lived. Everyone in town had lost something or someone during the flood which led to the collapse of the bridge. He was happy that the boy had not lost faith in God.

PC: Nidhi Prabhath.

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