Preetha sat down at the table with a cup of tea and a file. Keerti was jumping with joy next to her chair.

The smell of jasmine from Preetha’s hair filled the room. She had let the pallu of her saree down to touch the ground next to the chair. She was never the one to care about the condition of her clothes much. Being a mother of two and busy with chores all day, she hardly had time to dwell into vanity like the other ladies she met at the garden every evening.

Keerti pulled the file towards her. Preetha smacked her hand away gently with a smile.

Hold on, sit down first, said Preetha.

Keerti could not contain her excitement. She will see it finally. She will see her uncle’s letter.  The letter looked old but well preserved. Preetha took it out of the file slowly.

Can I read it? Keerti said pulling at the letter.

It will tear apart. Don’t do that. Let me read it to you. You are old enough to understand now.

Ok. Read it, ma. I want to hear it.

Preetha read the lines from Prakash’s last letter to her.

10 July 1986,

California, United States of America

Dear Preetha,

It has now been a week since I landed here in California. And it has been more than a month that I am missing your warm smile and your warmer samosas. The search for father is proving more difficult than anticipated. There aren’t many Nageswara Swami’s in the directory here. I have already visited all of them. I am beginning to wonder if our dear father is living under an assumed name. If so I hope I stumble upon his name soon, I am down to my last few dollars. Don’t worry, I will find him, and we will smile again.

Yours lovingly,

Your brother

Prakash Swami.

From: Prakash Swami, 10 Button Street, California

To: Preetha Swami, Viyyala Vari Veedhi, Kakinada, Andhra Pradesh, India.

That’s it. She looked at Keerti.

Woaaahhh! Keerti exclaimed.

So, that’s the letter? That’s it? And you never heard from him again? He was not in California for work all these years then. Why are you telling me this now?

It is Prakash’s birthday today. You can say I miss him. And you need to know about Prakash someday. You are ten now. You understand this. I just had you when your uncle had gone off to California. If it wasn’t for you, I would have joined him too.

Did you find out about grandpa later, ma? Who is he? Where is he?

I never found out. Your Grandpa from Hyderabad, the one who took care of us, is all we have. I love him a lot. You do too. Don’t you?

Of course, I do. But…But I want to meet my real grandpa someday. And uncle Prakash. We don’t know where he is either. Dead or alive.

The doorbell rang. There was a woman at the door. She was dressed in high heels and a long maxi dress. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and held her hands together, squishing the fingers. Her hippy handbag hung to one shoulder. She could almost be Olive Oyl to a Popeye somewhere. Her little ponytail stood out on her slender long neck.

Hi, I am Amrita. I came from Mumbai to meet Preetha. Are you… Are you Preetha?

Yes, what is it about? – Preetha thought that Amrita looked familiar.

I am here to bring news about Prakash Swami.

Preetha tensed up. She said – Walk in Amrita. Have some water. How do you know Prakash? How is he?

He was my step brother.

Was?