Image created by Golam Mohiuddin | AI-Generated (Gemini)

MONACHOPSIS

The Silent Carrier of Unsent Letters

Whether the color of human pain is blue or black remains an eternal debate. Some say the color of suffering is blue, much like the blue-throated bird that locks poison deep within its own neck. Others argue it is black, a darkness resembling a moonless night that silently consumes everything around it. Yet, the greatest lie humans tell is to themselves. Every single day, standing before the mirror, when a pair of tired eyes smiles and says that I am fine, nothing runs deeper than that deception. Why do people speak this untruth? Perhaps it is an unwritten decree of destiny, or simply a silent surrender to its absolute power.

While some lives are filled with joy and diversity, others remain painfully incomplete within the ledger of achievements. Duty, emotion, sorrow, love, and the constant oscillation between gains and losses define human existence. We all wait for a mountain trail, a quiet moment of solitary reflection, a tender touch, a magical call, or an exceptionally simple and pure smile. Our lives drift along the destined path of this unfulfilled love and affection, while we remain its exhausted carriers.

Ruppur is a small mountain town where the afternoons feel entirely different. A narrow dirt road cuts through the heart of the hills, winding away toward a distant pine forest. When blankets of fog and clouds descend, this path transforms into a grand highway of loneliness.

Avik is the postmaster of this town. His life flows as quietly as that mountain trail, yet internally it is filled with an agonizing emptiness. His daily routine involves delivering letters of joy and sorrow to others, even though the diary of his own life remains crammed with painful incompletion.

Toward the late afternoon, having finished his duties, Avik sat down on an old culvert by the roadside. Silence enveloped everything, and the breeze grew chilly. It was on an afternoon just like this, many years ago, that Titli had touched his hand. There was no drama, nor any excess of promises. There was only the gentle touch of a visual language and a whispered, magical call of his name, Avik.

Even today, Avik sits by that mountain path waiting for a simple, pure smile. But like the shifting clouds, the owner of that smile vanished beyond the mountains one day. Carrying the wound of unrequited love in his chest, Avik is now a compliant carrier of destiny. He understands that this very incompletion has become the path of his life journey.

Suddenly, a familiar sound of footsteps broke the silence of the trail. Ishan, a simple orphan boy from the village, stood there with a strange restlessness in his eyes. He came every day hoping for a letter that would never arrive. His older brother had left for the city years ago and never returned.

Avik looked at Ishan and saw the exact pain of unfulfillment reflected in the boy eyes. Avik smiled. This smile was an absolute lie, but behind it hid a profound sense of responsibility. He pulled an envelope from his pocket, placed it in Ishan hands, and told him that a letter from his brother had arrived.

Ishan took the letter and pressed it tightly against his chest. A beautiful, pure, and simple smile bloomed across his pale face. In the radiance of that smile, the afternoon fog seemed to vanish in an instant. Overwhelmed with immense joy, Ishan ran away, holding the blank piece of paper inside the envelope as if it were the ultimate truth.

Avik watched him go with a faint smile. He thought to himself that certain lies in this world are far more beautiful than the heartbreaking truth. People lie to themselves to survive, and they lie to others to keep them alive.

Evening descended upon the hills, completely wrapping the mountain path in a blanket of fog. Avik walked back toward his dark room.

As soon as he lit the kerosene lamp on the table, the surrounding darkness retreated, replaced by a magical glow. Avik pulled a blank sheet of paper toward him. This letter had no recipient, and it would never be dropped into a mailbox. He began to write.

Pain has no specific color. Sometimes sorrow devours like blue, and sometimes it paralyzes like black. Yet, the union of gains and losses is what constitutes life. We are merely carriers of destiny, each bearing an incomplete story in our own way.

Outside, a heavy downpour began to fall. Mountain rain possesses its own unique melody, turning the loneliness inside the room into a strange peace. Avik extended his hand outside the window. The rainwater touched his fingers, filling his mind with an extraordinary serenity, as if this very incompletion, this brief sigh, was the simple but rare achievement of his life.