The Last Love Letter

Chapter 6

When Akash arrived at his office the next day, he saw a stranger sitting on his chair. ‘Hey, good morning. This is my desk.’

The man looked up, scratched his goatee and said in a voice full of surprise, ‘Sir, I’ve been asked to sit here. I’m new, and today is my first day.’

Akash dreaded what was about to come next even before he asked the question. ‘Who hired you?’

‘Mr Raichand Kapadia.’

Fear and failure swept over him, overwhelming him so much that he grasped the corner of the desk to steady himself.

The man got to his feet. ‘Are you all right, sir? Can I help you to your cubicle?’

Akash raised his hand and, after a few moments, said, ‘I need to take my items from the desk.’
‘The drawers are empty. I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was your place before. Even the cupboard over there is empty.’
‘There was a picture of my wife and daughter on the desk...’ Now that the man had gotten up, Akash could see that his favourite photo, which he had looked at fondly many times during the day, was also missing. ‘Do you know where my stuff is? I need my things.’

‘I’m sorry, sir, I have no clue. Perhaps the HR will know. Look, I’m really sorry…’

Akash didn’t wait for the final sentence, and instead started to rush away from the place he had worked in for the last four years. He went past several cubicles, heard someone call his name, walked past Mr Raichand’s office without looking through the glass doors and drove back home.

As soon as he got home, he opened the cupboard in his bedroom and pulled out a bottle of Scotch whisky. He opened it and drank a few mouthfuls straight from the bottle. The alcohol burnt his mouth and brought tears to his eyes. He looked up at the picture of Nisha and murmured, ‘I’m sorry, Nisha. I should have worked harder. I should have been more careful.’
Akash’s main worry was keeping a roof over their heads. He was still paying off the loan he had taken during Nisha’s treatment at the hospital, and without a job, he would be ruined. And Sara’s quarterly school fee was due next month. He drank some more and allowed the alcohol to put him to sleep in a chair in the bedroom.

The shrill sound of the doorbell woke him up, and for a few moments, he wasn’t sure where he was. Was he still at the hospital, waiting for the doctors to emerge and tell him how Nisha was doing?

The doorbell rang again.
‘Hello, Akash.’ It was Mr Raichand. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Akash led the way to the living room, where they sat on the sofas opposite each other.
The two men sat in silence for a few minutes. The last time his boss had visited their home was during Sara’s second birthday. Back then, it was a noisy house, full of children and the delicious smell of food, with colourful balloons everywhere. It was quiet now.

‘Akash, I’m sorry…’

'I understand, sir.’

‘Here.’ His boss extended an envelope towards him. ‘This letter says you are on paid leave for six months and are welcome back after the leave.’

Akash looked up. He knew his boss was a kind man, but this was uncharacteristic of him, particularly when the company was struggling.

'I know about the loan. I’m your boss, Akash. Take a few months off. Look after yourself. Travel with Sara. Rebuild yourself, find your edge.’ With that, Mr Raichand was on his feet.

'Thank you, sir.’

'I hope to see the original Akash again soon. Your belongings are in my custody at the office, and I’ll be happy to hand them over the day you rejoin us.’

After the door closed behind Mr Raichand, Akash whispered, ‘The original Akash is long dead, Mr Raichand.’

He walked back to the bedroom and took a few more gulps from the bottle. This time when the bell rang, he knew who was at the door.

‘Sara.’ His face lit up.

'Dad, I’m hungry.’

Akash staggered to the kitchen and looked around. He had not thought about lunch. ‘Did you finish your tiffin, Sara?’ he shouted from the kitchen.

'No, I told you, Dad—I don’t like sandwiches.’ Sara sounded annoyed.

This wasn’t going very well. His daughter was hungry, and there was no way he could fix something in a hurry. Akash wasn’t a good cook. He got back to the bedroom, helped Sara out of her school clothes and into what she had picked out on her own from her small cupboard, and then dashed out the door.

‘Pizza again, Dad?’

'Sure. Or would you like something else today?’

'Yes, a burger and a toy.’

'Great, let’s do it.’