My Dear Bhai,

It has been one long day, and I am tired as a dog. There are things I should tell you now. Maybe I’ll feel better after writing, maybe you’ll lose some sleep, but I simply need to vent. I’ve bottled up these feelings for too long. Honesty is the best policy, remember our Moral Science classes? Oh my God! I still shiver at the very thought of that subject. Personally, I felt it was an overdose of the omnipresent, the conscience, and the truth.

Today, as I sit down to write to you, I pray I’ll be honest enough. Being honest isn’t child’s play, even with oneself. Okay, let me give myself the benefit of the doubt and rephrase…let me confess.

Sapna delivered a beautiful baby girl this afternoon. I was at the nursing home with Sanjeev the entire time. It was amazing to watch him. His expressions changed with every passing second. A would-be father that he was, he embodied every possible emotion… excitement, fear, worry, anxiety, impatience and hope.

“It’s worse than waiting for the Board Results!” he said to me.

Board results automatically connected me to you, Bhai. Suddenly, I realized you are the only one with whom I’ve remained bonded since school. After Boards, we parted ways “to find greener pastures.” Do you recall those hostel days when we shared everything under the sun? Pickles, biscuits, cakes from home, notes, textbooks, T-shirts, jackets… even cigarettes in high school. I even remember sharing your toothbrush once! I know it gives the jitters now, but that’s precisely why we have been Bhai to each other rather than just best friends.

When the nurse came out of the O.T. with the news, our happiness, satisfaction, and pride were immeasurable. “The mother and the baby are doing fine,” she said. We were allowed to visit Sapna once she was settled in her room.

Sapna looked calm and peaceful in her slumber. Somehow, she seemed even more radiant now, her skin glowing as the afternoon sun streamed through the venetian blinds. Sanjeev sat next to her, gently caressing her forehead. I left them in their private moment and stepped outside. An uneasy feeling crept inside me. I lit a cigarette, then had a cup of tea from the nearby stall. Nicotine and caffeine do wonders for tired nerves, don’t you agree, Bhai?

I met Sanjeev and Sapna about three years ago when work brought me to Kottayam. Our friendship clicked instantly. My house is just two doors away from theirs. I bumped into them one evening as Sanjeev was changing a flat tyre. Sapna was absent-mindedly gazing at the old banyan tree.

“Look at the bark! It resembles an old lady with wrinkled skin!” she exclaimed. “Sorry, that was a poor joke.”

Sanjeev winked but said nothing, engrossed in the jack. I offered to help, and by the time the car was ready, we were talking like old friends. I invited them to my house; that was the beginning of our friendship.

But Sapna… she was, and will always be, a cute little thing to me. Childlike, shy, nervous, reluctant, yet needy. She was the woman I had always dreamed of. We never spoke much or maybe I just listened too much. Somehow, I understood her thoughts through her expressive eyes. She was amazing.

Let me tell you about one Sunday afternoon. Sanjeev and I decided to have a beer before lunch at their house. I went to fetch the bottles from the fridge. Sapna was cooking. She turned as I entered, startled for a moment, but I quickly reassured her:

“So, you got scared, huh?”

She studied me for a moment and replied, “No, I wasn’t. There are only two things I’m scared of: reptiles and ghosts… and you resemble neither.”

Her passion for nature, the homeless, tattoos, and bungee jumping drew me closer. The more I tried to resist, the more her thoughts clung to me.

I was in love with her. But it wasn’t easy. She was already married. I couldn’t betray Sanjeev’s trust. So I distanced myself, giving professional excuses whenever I could. Sanjeev would notice, sometimes hinting he wanted his old buddy back. The same one who helped with the flat tyre. Love came with complications I hadn’t imagined.

My love for Sapna wasn’t lust or desire. It was undiluted, pure. Yet, somehow, she must have sensed it. Somewhere in her heart, I’m sure she felt the same. And still, I prayed to God not to be generous with me, not to let this love grow beyond control.

But there were moments when restraint slipped. When she lay close to me, and our heartbeats synchronized, nothing else mattered. The moment was real, raw—the truth of it overwhelming.

I can still look into her eyes today, the love and respect unchanged. How I wish things were simpler.

The cell phone rang. It was Sanjeev. “Where have you been?”

“I’m outside, came down for a smoke. Will be there soon,” I said, finishing my fourth cup of tea.

As I entered the room, I saw the new-born in a cradle next to Sapna’s bed. She was still asleep, the tranquilizers working their magic. I carefully lifted the baby into my arms. She felt like holding a part of her mother, a part of me, a part of our love. It was only a feeling. But a profound one. Not guilt. Not regret. Just… feeling.

Bhai, I don’t want you to curse me. I had to confess and now I know for sure, being honest is far from child’s play.

Lovingly yours,
Bhai

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