Baba, I know it has almost been two years since I have had any contact with you. Do not think that I have forgotten you or hate you. No, I could never do that - not even in my dreams, even If I tried. Ten years ago, I would have willingly done anything to erase your existenceýyour memory out of my life and my world. But today, I value you, your life and your being regardless of where you are and how you are. Every night, I pray for you before I go to bed. I pray to God that you are safe. I pray to Him that you have enough food to keep you going and enough shelter to keep you warm. Yes, I pray to Him to grant you strength, wisdom and everything else that will make you happy and comfortable. At times, I sit down and cry for everything that could not be. At other times, I wonder where you must be and what you must be doing. The other day, I was sitting on my bed reading J. L.ýs, ýInterpretation of Maladies.ý Just then it started thundering and before I knew, it was raining heavily. I sat there and worried about you -- worried, if you had a raincoat to keep you from getting wet, because I heard that you live in the jungle. I worried if you were anywhere near the cave so that you were protected from the storms and hails. I worried if you were still alive or dead. God forbid it, but even if you die, I will never know about it. For others, you will just be another name and number who died for the sake of the movement, but for me you will be much more than that ý much more than anyone will ever understand. When the government will be celebrating your death as their victory, I know my heart will be crying for losing someone so precious and dear to my life -- to my heart ý something, only I and others like me can comprehend. That is why I do not write to you. Every time I sit down to compose a meaningful letter in your memory, I have to come face to face with the reality ý the reality, which haunts and hurts me, the reality, from which I have been trying to run away and hide for the past five years. My friends ask me, ýSo what does your dad do?ý I do not know what to tell them. During such times, I find my self-speechless and confused. Should I tell them, ýOh, my dad is a Maoist?ý or should I just come up with some lies? I do not know. I just smile as I tell them, he is jobless right now or he is a social worker. I know it would cut you through and through to hear me saying those words, as I lie to them shamelessly. I am sorry. Please, do not think I am ashamed of you and your life. No, I am not. Deep in my heart, I cannot help but commend you for your courage ý your courage to be able to put your life at stake and everything precious to you for a purpose that you believe is true. Yes, I seriously do, even though I am angry at you sometimes for deserting us when we really needed you the most. But, I will forgive you. The other day Bobba wrote an email to me. She told me mom was sick ý very sick. I was disheartened to read that she was crying and saying that she was probably going to die this year. I cried silently in my heart because my friends were around me. I was overwhelmed with emotions as I felt a lump in my throat. I ran to the nearest restroom and cried my heart out as I did not wanted my friends to see me crying. You see Baba, I just do not know how to explain this chapter of my life to my friends. All of these experiences and realities seem and feel like deep dark secrets to me. And I feel like if I tell them, they will become a part of a secret that they do not deserve to be. So, I keep those bitter parts of my life to myself, buried deep in my soul, hidden from everyone and everything for another momentýanother day ý another month and eventually another year. I cannot imagine what mom must be going through. What Bobba and Babu must be going through either. And I do not think they can imagine what I am going through because we hardly talk about your life in the movement. It is what one might call a hush-hush topic, because it is forbidden to speak about it not even amongst us. It appears that all of us are pretending to avoid ýwhat is really real,ý as we talk about other trifling matters of life. I could probably write a book, if I were to update you about my ý our lives during past five years, but I will stop here. My friends are calling me. They are saying they would like to go for a drive-in movie. I know I still will have to put on that happyý as if everything is perfect face-- and go on with life, because only I know in my heart of hearts, myýour painful realities. Please eat and sleep at a right time if that is possible. And always remember, no matter what the world thinks about you, always know that, you never were and never will be a ýterroristý in my eyes. Much love.