My dear Lotta,
I am in a well here and hoping you are also in a well there. I'm writing this letter slowly, because I know you cannot read fast. We don't live where we did when you left home. Your dad read in the newspaper that most accidents happen within 20 miles from home, so we moved 25 miles away and are safe now.
I won't be able to send the address as the last Sardar who stayed here took the house numbers with him for his new house so he would not have to change his address. Hopefully by next week we will be able to take our earlier address plate here, and that our address will remain same too.
This place is really nice. It even has a washing machine, situated right above the toilet. I'm not sure it works too well. Last week I put in 3 shirts, pulled the chain and haven't seen them since.
The weather here isn't too bad. It rained only twice last week. The first time it rained for 3 days and second time for 4 days.
The coat you wanted me to send you, your Aunt said it would be a little too heavy to send in the mail with all the metal buttons, so we cut them off and put them in the pocket.
Your father has another job. He has 500 men under him. He is cutting the grass at the cemetery.
Your sister had a baby this morning. I haven't found out whether it is a girl or a boy, so I don't know whether you are an Aunt or Uncle.
Your uncle, Beppo Singh fell in the nearby well. Some men tried to pull him out, but he fought them off bravely and drowned. We cremated him and he burned for three days.
Your best friend, Genda Singh, is no more. He died trying to fulfill his father's last wishes. His father had wished to be buried in the sea after he died. And your friend died while in the process of digging a grave for his father.
There isn't much more news this time. Nothing much has happened.
P.S : Lotta, I was going to send you some money but by the time I realized, I had already posted off this letter.
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