No one to talk around, no one to befriend around, she was sad and dull as always. She had spent her childhood in this lonely manner.

This year's winter brought more sadness to her face, as she had to move to a new village with her father, leaving behind that house where she spent last year.

Her father was being posted to a new village post office, farther deeper to Himalayan route.

Though this had become a yearly routine for Nina, but this year's sadness was clearly visible from her eyes. Coming out of her childhood, she had entered in early teenage and emotions were different now. She felt pity of herself, having no friends, even to say goodbye at this last day of her, in this old house.

Packing her bags and some old toys, which were the only so-called friends of her, she embarked on a new journey to a new unknown place, to be more lonely and isolated.

Tears in her eyes did hide all the beauty of Himalayan route and mountaineering views on the way, for which anyone else would strive for. These were immaterial to her against her loneliness and sadness.

After two days of trekking, up the mountain route, they arrived at their new place. It was a small old house, which the winter has decorated with white snow. Father's new post office was just in front of this new house, and now he could take care of his post office and his daughter Nina altogether.

Nina, like every year, started arranging her stuffs in this small house. But today her old toys and dolls were not giving her any pleasure.

As the day embarked to dawn and a silence caged the beauty in its darkness, Nina's loneliness made her more feared and she went asleep thinking about just nothing, just no one.

Days passed, winter strengthened, but Nina was all the same, sad and lonely. One day father asked her to come to post office and spend some time.

Visitors to post office were almost nil in this small village. No letters to get posted, no replies to come for days and months.

This place too seemed empty to Nina, like her own heart. Feeling bored sitting and staring to her father only, she asked father if she could go backyards to post office for a while. Father asked her to be careful, as a lot of old junk was stored in backyard of the post office.

Sitting at backyard, staring at mountains and around, her eyes stopped on a rusted, red old box laying in the junk. Out of her curiosity, he took out the box out of junk and brought to her father.

"Oh father, look what I found backyards. What is it father?"

"This is an old Letter Box, Nina. As it got old, we replaced it with new one and threw away it in junk yard."

Nina asked her father, "How it works father?"

He smiled on Nina's question, and replied, "Oh dear, If you post a letter in it, you receive a reply"

"A reply? from Whom Father?" - Nina asked in eagerness.

"Replies from your relatives, or friends, to who you write" "

But I have no one to write to", Nina asked in innocence, "Can I take it, father, I would play with it"

Father smiled but also could hide his tears on Nina's answer that she had no one to write to.

She brought "The Letter Box" to home and placed beside her bed, and started staring it, as if it would talk to her anytime. But it didn’t.

Hours passed, and Nina just stared at the Letter Box, laying on her bed. Then she remembered her father’s words, that replies would come if we post letters.

Getting the idea in her innocent mind, she jumped out of bed and started searching paper to write. She searched here and there, toppled her old toys, spread her fathers stuff. And there she found some papers to write.

In the zeal and happiness, she sprinted to her letter box and sat beside it with a beautiful rare to find smile on her face. But as she started to pen down, she got dragged into shadow of sadness.

“Whom should I write to, what should I write?” she muttered slowly with damp voice.

She had no name to write to, she had feelings to share to no-one. After few rough work and tearing few papers away after writing something, she could not decide what to post.

Sitting and staring to Letter Box, she finally wrote, “Hi” on a paper and folded with no enthusiasm and dropped into the letter box with no hope.

Waited, she fell asleep beside to the Letter Box. Father came in evening and woke her up. He asked Nina, how she enjoyed with her letter box. She broke into tears and told, “I posted a letter, when would I get reply?”

Father smiled to her and asked, what she wrote in the letter. To console her innocent question, he opened the bottom door of letter box and took out the folded letter and gave to her, saying that, it was a reply to her letter.

She opened the paper and found “Hi” written there.

“See, Nina, you got a reply, your friend also says, “Hi” to you.

Nina, understood that father had tried to console her by words of innocence but was happy how he cared her feelings by telling lie, that someone replied to her. She also knew that replies can not come in this way, and it was same letter she posted into the letter box. But, suddenly she noticed that, though the words were same, “Hi”, what she had written on the paper, but this paper was not the same she folded and posted.

“Was it a true reply from someone?” she thought with excitement.

“Hi, I am Nina. What is your name? Who Are you?” – She wrote and posted into the letter Box and sat down in zest, waiting something to happen really good.

She opened the door of the letter box and out of her imagination, there was folded letter at the bottom. Before opening the letter, she imagined many things.

“It may be the same letter saying, “Hi”, or it may be the same letter what I posted minutes ago.”

With a lot of anxiety she opened the letter.

“you can call me a friend” – were the words in the letter. Nina, got almost fainted, seeing something un-imaginable happening just in front of her.

“Is it a dream?”, she pinched herself to confirm.

“Aauch!! No it’s not a dream” she screamed.

“Father look I got a reply” she shouted. Her father took it very casually and didn’t want to steal away her imagination.

“Ohh Great, you got a friend” Nina didn’t want this imagination to get broken, so she also didn’t emphasise. Whatsoever, she had a friend now, to whom she could write to, and get replies from.

She took out a whole bunch of papers and letters from father’s desk and sat down in front of her Letter box.

“Are you Real, or it’s my imagination?”

“Whatever you believe my friend.” “

Can you come to my place and play along?”

“I am already at your place, but I can’t play. Yes, sure I can reply to your letters though, and we can play this way.”

“I can’t believe it’s happening to me” – she mumbled. And the letters continued the whole day.

Days passed, months turned, Nina had now everything in her life. She was happy, and full of life. She wrote letters day and night sitting beside her letter box and enjoyed reading witty, funny and full of life replies from her new friend.

The letter box was like a living friend for Nina, she wished “Good nights, Good Mornings” in letters, shared all her feelings, shared all activities she did throughout a day. She was living a life like of a dream come true.

Winter passed, snow started melting, summer rose from the behind of mountains, shining up the peaks of Himalayans. Nina’s life with her friend was also likely shining. There were letters all around in her room and joy on her face.

As the snow melted, other families of the village started coming back. Slowly there was a life in the village, and the smoke out of chimneys of houses. Children started coming out in streets to play. Nina, was not much interested as she had much more in her house than she could get out there. She was much happier reading replies to her letters from her friend than to play outside.

One day, father invited few families to home for small celebration and so that Nina could get new friends also, in real. They came with sweets, toys and clothes for Nina. She was happy to see new faces around, but was more eager for the celebration to end, so that she could write letters to her Letter box and share these moments.

“Hi, Friend, see I have new cloths” - She wrote many letters then and enjoyed replies.

She wished “Good night” to her friend and went to bed.

Laying there, she looked at her new toys, they were shiny, bright. She once looked at her letter Box, which was rusted and old. New toys were attracting her. She took some of them and went to sleep playing with them. She was very happy to get new toys.

In the morning she woke up with those new toys. She went out to play with others with her new toys. She did not feel good of the old letter box as it looked ugly with these new shining toys.

She asked father to bring some colour from downhill market back in evening, so she could make the letter box new again.

“I am going to change you to new, my friend. Do not reply to this letter, for a while, let me paint you” She posted and started painting. Whole evening she spent in painting her letter box and making it look new.

Now it was a brand-new Letter Box, shining to its core.

“Let it dry, Nina” father advised. She went to bed, but without posting Good night Letter today. She was very eager to get a reply next morning from her new looking letter box. She kept staring to letter box for late night, in excitement for next morning. She woke up and posted “Good Morning”. Opened the door and put her hand to get reply letter.

Nothing came out for a while.

To her Shock and worry, she took the letter box and rushed to out door to sunlight. Kept it there for a while and brought back to home, wrote a letter, “Hi” and posted.

No Reply.

In attempt to change, she lost the soul of the letter box. She kept posting letters whole day, indulge in sadness but there were no replies.

“What happened to this Letter Box, Father? It does not reply to me.” -she cried.

“The letter Box does not reply Nina”, “go out with friends and play” “Let me clear this out to make place for your new toys.”

Father replied and took the Letter Box and threw away in backyard of the Post office.

And the letter box laid there, waiting for another winter and someone to come and pic up again for a magnificent journey of conversations.... 

- From

Samarpan