If somebody had told me five years ago that I would one day come back to this old place, I wouldn’t have believed him.
That is a bit of irony considering that ten years ago I wouldn’t have believed that I was going to be away for so long.
I have been tormented by grief and melancholy in these long years. There was a time when I could have returned, when everyone was waiting for me; but those days have long gone by. Years of piled letters and rakhis rot in their misery in a corner, sharing my fate, and I haven’t the nerve to open them because I am afraid of discovering what I have lost.
I would never see again many of those I had once loved most dearly. Years of bewilderment and anticipation have finally turned into indifference. I am no longer a part of my own world!
I wish I could tell them it was in this house that I have lived in the last ten years.