VADODARA: Nearly a year after his wife passed away, her voice still lives in the quiet corners of 86-year-old Dhiru Mistry’s home in Bhayli, Vadodara. It rises from the rustle of old envelopes, from fading ink on now-delicate sheets of paper that became vivid canvases of their love.There are not 10, not 50, but 1,000-plus handwritten confessions of affection, longing, and companionship exchanged with his wife Kusum. Mistry has preserved these notes from the era when there were no instant messages or calls, like sacred relics.“They are a treasure trove keeping me alive,” Mistry says softly. He pauses, as though listening for a familiar voice. After all, he and his beloved spent 58 loving years together.In an era before WhatsApp ticks and constant phone buzzes, Mistry and Kusum built a universe stitched together by ink. Letter by letter, page by page, they nurtured a love that travelled between cities long before they could travel to one another.“I was engaged to Kusum, who lived in Ahmedabad, in 1966, and we got married the next year. Landline phones were a luxury. Even public phone booths were rare,” Mistry recalls. “There was just no way to talk to her regularly. That’s when we began writing letters.”What began as necessity soon became ritual. Even after marriage, the letters continued – small lifelines of emotion passed between two people who simply could not bear the silence of distance.Mistry, who worked in filmmaking, often travelled for shoots. “Whenever work took me away from Vadodara, I would write to her unfailingly. And she would always write back – her words felt like she was talking to me, sitting right beside me,” he says.Kusum would send letters through the angadia service. “And I would traverse across Mumbai just to collect her letter from angadia offices,” he smiles, eyes glistening.
