Between the lines of old letters

I promised myself I would write a blog when I have lots of emotions floating around, so this is one such moment.

This is a story of how I went on a big search for a long-lost connection I made with someone in 2002, despite them not having any known form of social media. All I had was her name and the school we studied together in.

Have you ever felt that feeling that when you see a particular person, you get your entire reality and senses tuning into that moment in the past, and you can go long back in time just by the sight of this one person?

Like you’re a kid again, and you see the other person also turning into a child when they see you.

Almost 22 years ago, a girl made this impression in my heart, and I have held this close to my heart ever since. There was only one problem. I did not know where she was. I have lost touch with her for a long time.

If she’s that important to me, HOW CAN I LOSE TOUCH WITH HER?

My friends, this was a time more than a decade prior to the first time I got access to the internet, and social media is not a term that anyone even knew. All we have would be letters, where we would pour our news and feelings. Through these carefully crafted sentences, we hoped to paint a picture of our lives for the reader while their eyes follow the curved ink.

In 2001, while I was still studying in a school in the first standard in the neighborhood of my home, occasionally cried and threw tantrums because I hated the stupid system where they wouldn’t allow us to sleep during the afternoon like we could during kindergarten. One fine day, a teacher walked up to me and said “You are leaving this school.”

“Why? What did I do?”

“Nothing, your parents are here to take you away.”

Turns out that my Mom got a job transfer to a faraway place. This means that I have to switch schools in the middle of my 1st standard year. 5 year old I was more than happy to leave. All that mattered to me was my afternoon naps.

For those of you who would ask why I have to be with Mom while she is getting the job transfer, don’t you see? She needs a bodyguard and that would be me. She stayed at a ladies’ hostel in the new place, which is a town named Thodupuzha in the Idukki district of Kerala. So I stayed at the ladies’ hostel with her. I was admitted to a school near to the hostel.

After school ends at 4 pm, it would take another two hours for Mom to finish her job and pick me up. Which means I have to stay back at the school, while every other kid goes home.

I struggled to make friends. Part of it could be owed to my partial deafness, but that didn’t stop me from running around the corridors every day, trying to enjoy the little things around me.

One day, I met another kid, who was in the same situation as me, her mom would pick her up late.

Her name was Jyothy.

I immediately liked this little girl, and we instantly connected and she became my closest, maybe my only friend, filling my days with laughter. She always had lots of stories to tell about or ideas for games that we could play together. School evenings were not so lonely and dreadful anymore, I actually looked forward to going to school every day. Suddenly the corridors were more lively, filled with our chatter.

Few others who would hang around at the school at this time would be the headmistress and clerk of the school, who were both nuns at the convent that runs the school. The headmistress, Sister Maria, was one of the most kindest, warmest, and gentle soul I have met in my life. She would welcome both me and Jyothi to her office, listen to all our banters, and ask us how our day went. I always made sure Jyothi got more preference, as she was more possessive about her time with Sister Maria.

My mom and her mom eventually got to know about our friendship, and they became good friends. Those were good times, we, our friendship with Sister Maria, and our mothers. It meant the world to me at the time.

One day it was time for me and Mom to move back home. She finally got transferred to a place near our own home.

The thought of going home was making me happy, and I tried to ignore the heartbreaking thought of leaving Jyothi.

And after saying goodbyes to everyone, we left with our belongings in a car. Jyothy and her Mom came to say bye to us, and looking back from the rear of the car, I saw it.

Jyothi was crying her heart out. It was painful to watch.

Well, those were the times of landphones and letters, and at my age, I was not allowed to spend much money using the landphone. I don’t want to let Jyothy go from my life. I decided to write letters.

In those letters, I would write everything that came to my thoughts, every single event, and I wanted to tell her everything. Even when I live on my random contemplation moments, I think of it as a letter to Jyothy, and it finds its way to be a letter. I collected stamps, wrapped them in a postal cover, and carefully hid them from my mom who is an occasional snooper and would put them in the postbox quite away from home.


And once every few months Mom would exclaim, “Jithu! Come here, you got a letter!”

I rush with a heart pounding with excitement. I’ve been counting my days, waiting for a day when the postman would find their way to our home.

And for years, we continued writing letters.

One night, when Mom was reading the newspaper, and I was looking at the night sky, I heard a terrified scream from Mom.

She looked at me with horrified eyes, and asked me to confirm what she read was true.

In the newspaper, there was an Obituary for Jyothy’s mom…

We called to the number and learned Jyothy had been taken to her uncle’s home, and she lives with them now.

Now I don’t have her address anymore, no way to contact her either.
Nor did any letters come to me. I understand what she must have been going through.

I would dream of one day, when I would have gotten older, grown a beard, and walked up to a random bus stop, to find her out of the blue and say “Hey, is your name Jyothy?”

Around 2017, I think I learned some smart computer skills, along with the ways of social media. I wanted to know where Jyothi was, and I confidently typed her full name into Facebook.

I couldn’t find her.

I tried with all other known apps of the time and still couldn’t find her.

I prayed to God, and I took a look at the Sherlock Holmes book that was on my bookshelf. This had to be the moment I had to put on the detective hat.

If Jyothy had finished her entire academics in the same school, then one way to find her would be to find at least one person who knows her from the same school.

So I went to the school website and found a pdf of the top scorers of the school in her passing year.

Her name wasn’t there.

I checked every previous year too, to see if her name is in any of the list of the top scorers.

Still no.

Now I had to find someone who at least have heard of her. So I would type down each person’s name from the list in the pdf, find them on Facebook, and ask them.

Well, that did not receive a friendly response. After all, a stranger boy asking to find a girl? Not a warm welcome from people.

One girl although skeptical at me, responded. Jyothy was her senior at school, and they studied in the same hostel. She left our school around 10th standard. I got from her the name of the new school.

Okay, things are taking some interesting development. I was more intrigued. I am getting closer.

I found more contacts from her new school, but all people were skeptical of me texting them as they saw me as a random stranger from Facebook.

Until I saw that someone from my college was a mutual friend of one of them.

And I got this guy’s number from my college friend, and this is where things took a turn.

The new guy turned out curious to know my story, and also turned out to be a cyber security enthusiast. He said he knew this girl as she studied with him, and he went on to talk to a few people, and we learned that she does not have any social media, atleast any known ones.

He kept on messaging more people like I did, I am immensely grateful to this guy my entire life.

We learned that she uses an account with an anonymous name, and that too quite rarely.

And he shared the username. “Good Luck”, he said and went on with his life.

My heart started pounding again. The same feeling I had when I was waiting for the letters.

I was super anxious, How would she perceive me? What would she think of me?

She responded to my message, and to confirm my suspicions, she indeed was skeptical to talk to me.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is Abhijith Neil Abraham. We used to talk a lot, in school, and our mothers were friends too. We even used to write each other letters.”

“Hmm..”

My heart started to sink. Maybe I was too in over my head. I was being too emotional about this connection.

“Abhijith, I remember you. I still have the letters you sent me. I also have our pictures together from that time. ”

I am jumping up and down as I am reading this. She continued

“I was skeptical to talk to you because I wanted to confirm that it is you. I can’t believe it can be you. I thought we would never meet each other again.”

I am thanking the universe for making me believe in people and making me believe these connections are real. I met Jyothy a few weeks later, and at first sight, I felt that I was walking towards the little Jyothy, and I am the little Abhijith again.

”Hey!”

“Hai!”

I remember us giggling somewhat.

We had little time to talk, but she told me about the letters I sent her.

And here’s a picture of us in childhood.

Through time, we clicked more pictures :

Thank you for reading up until here, and thanks to everyone who helped me in my journey up to this moment. This might be a small story to you but for me, this is one of the biggest events in my own life. I have been narrating it for 22 years. And it teaches me to keep believing in the good moments and to never forget to cherish and nurture them.