For forty years Prem Babu made certain that other people's words arrived. One letter did not, and he is the reason it did not. Now, with ten months left and a house gone quiet, he sets out to find the child that letter was addressed to, who is a grown man somewhere and does not know he was ever written to. What Prem Babu learns on the way is that a wrong address, maintained long enough and with enough care, becomes a kind of love, and that it still has to be answered for.