March 4, 1997
My dear Mother
I am sorry I have not been able to write to you earlier. I was feeling like a fish out of water for the first few days. Gradually however things began to improve and I am slowly feelings at home in my new surroundings. But it was much nicer when I was at the day school and come home every afternoon.
I don’t like the food hat we have to eat in the hostel. I hat it. The mess food bears no comparison with the dishes I got at home. Oh how unsatisfactory it often is the boys run their own mess and select their own manager but with poor result. The grain contractor the cook and other servants cheat us in so any ways. And n top of all our mess servants often take leave without notice. Then the mess is closed and we have to observe a fast or dine in a hotel.
When I go to the dining hall. I begin to feel home sick. Would what I had the wings of a dove so that I could fly to you and enjoy your dainty dishes
Please ask father to put me into the non residential school again I should be happier there.
With love and regards.
Talat Mirza Baig