Dear Son,
I received your letter yesterday. Relieved to know that all is well at your end.
You too have asked about my wellbeing. No, I am not well, and not just from the various ailments and my poor eyesight at seventy-five. Your father is making my life increasingly miserable. He has been doing so for fifty years. Anyone else would have given up by now. It is only me who has survived somehow. I no longer think anything of him other than an exploiter. He is your father. It is not right to talk ill of a father to his son. Yet, my suffering compels me.
At times, however, he listens to me. He is writing this letter for me as I cannot see properly.
Sending you my blessings.
Lovingly,
Your Mother
গল্পগাছা (গল্প দুই) | সমরেশ মজুমদার
Translated by Bappa Datta © May 2023