The day I took my decision, I had my supper as usual in Jivan Singh’s home. He congratulated me, but I said that I could not accept unless Kishen Kaur, his wife, also extended an invitation. Jivan Singh gave me a funny look, but then he called her to come to the table and give her opinion on whether I should stay. At first she would not, but Jivan pressed her and she answered yes. The others cheered like boys playing kabaddi. I hope I did not embarrass her. Sometimes our people here, after staying away from Punjab for so long, have strange customs.

How is our son, Padma? Watch over him, take care of my mother. I count the weeks until I return.

Your devoted husband,

Ram Singh

15 November 1914

My esteemed husband,

You flatter me by writing of your choice to stay in this Imperial Valley. I know that whatever decision you take will be only the best one. Why do you need bother with telling me? Yet I am happy to hear of it. That you are staying with a family of our people. That you will have something of a home. Last month when Father went to the district headquarters, I asked him to find information on this Imperial Valley. He came back saying it was a new place, a good place. Of course I know you will find success in farming, for that comes naturally to us and is our honorable lot in life.

Husband, you will be glad to know this. We have finished with our son’s naming ceremony. Uncle has chosen a name: Santosh. What do you think of it, my husband? I am so anxious to know your thoughts and feelings. I believe that Mother-in-Law may have believed it to be proper for her grandson to have such a happy name. When Uncle whispered it into his ear, in front of the sacred fire with everyone watching, our son laughed. I would not lie to you. It was a small affair, but still, I was proud. What mother is not proud at her son’s first birthday? Yet, you were missing. You, who are the only person who should be present most of all, even more than me—a son’s father.