A sweet spring afternoon. The Amar Ekushey Book Fair was crowded. The scent of new books was everywhere, the wind blew dust, and the chatter of readers and writers. Shuvro was walking alone in this crowd. He was a student of Dhaka University. He had some tuition money in his pocket and a list of books in his hand.
Shuvro's target was a specific book of poetry. After searching a lot, he found the book in a quiet stall in the fair grounds. As he turned the pages, his eyes caught sight of an old yellow envelope inside. Unable to control his curiosity, he opened the envelope. Inside was a folded letter. Written in full letters:
"Ananya, will you come to the fair today? I will wait under the black-capped tree behind the Little Mag square until 5 pm. If we never meet again, let this book be our last memory."
— Iti, Ark (February 14, 2001)
Shubhra was surprised. The letter was from 25 years ago today! He looked at his watch—it was exactly 4:30 p.m. A strange thrill filled his head. He bought the book and headed straight for the Little Mag premises.
As soon as he reached the base of the black-capped tree, Shubhra saw a middle-aged lady standing there with glasses. There was a strange emptiness in her eyes and a distant past. Shubhra hesitated a bit and moved forward.
"Excuse me, are you Ananya?" Shubhra's voice was hesitant.
The lady looked at Shubhra in surprise. "Yes, but who are you? How did you know my name?"
Shubhra took out the yellow envelope and the poetry book from his pocket and handed them to him. He said, "After 25 years, the letter from Ark reached you. It was left inside the book."
As soon as she saw the letter, Ananya's eyes got wet. Her fingers started shaking. She whispered, "That day, Ark gave me the book in the huge crowd at the fair. But it got lost on the way home. I thought Ark might not love me anymore, so he didn't contact me. And he thought I might not have received his letter."
"Where is Arkbabu now?" Shuvro asked.
Ananya smiled softly and wiped away her tears and said, "He is now the publisher of a big publishing house at this fair. I went to his stall a while ago. There was only a piece of wall of pride between us. This letter broke that wall today."
Thanking Shuvro, Ananya walked quickly towards the main square of the fair. Shuvro stared at it. Book fairs not only give birth to new books, they sometimes bring back stories lost 25 years ago. The spring breeze seemed a little more colorful then.