8…number Eight. Sitting near the verandah Rahul was wondering as who might have sent him this letter he held in his hand firmly. Written in hand, the sender wanted to remain anonymous and instructed Rahul to keep it a secret till the time is ripe and circumstances stable.
The letter urged him as why he never enquired about his mother? And the prominence of number eight in his life. He still remembered that his mother breathed last on 08/08/88 at 8 pm.
This number Eight, but how a number can be unfortunate? Untoward incidents can happen on any day. It might have been sheer co-incidence is what Rahul used to think till he received this letter.
And today again it was 8 July 2007 when this letter came from…from where? ‘Can’t I go to papa and enquire about it! He might help me out to identify the hand-writing and consequently the person who wrote this letter to me’, thought Rahul.
He felt little bugged with the thought of never enquiring about the lady who brought him to this world? What if she died when he was merely 2 years old, but still he could have asked his father.
But he never felt the need to enquire about the lady whom he never saw and had no memories to look back. ‘But who could have sent this letter’, whispered Rahul and suddenly realized the need to call up his sister.
He always felt very close to her and she had taken the place of mother in his mind. Why would he ever think of his mother when so much of love was showered upon him by his sister and father?