You value the things, when they are lost
You value the things, when they are lost
“You are enjoying half fee rebate. Even then, till now, your fee is unpaid. Bring it tomorrow.” The fee clerk was shouting and ten year old Deepak was looking at the dust on the floor. He had nothing to say, as he didn’t know whether his mother would be able to pay this time. He shared this with his friends and they started laughing, “What!! You can’t afford this paltry sum.”
His father was not staying with them neither supporting them financially. The marriage season was over, so his mother had very little work of stitching and alterations.
It was an extremely hot summer day. He was back from school. He changed, went to the kitchen, where his mother was preparing lunch, he told her about the fee incident. His mother got upset and said, “Take the money and throw it on his desk tomorrow. I can’t allow anyone to talk to you, in this way. After all you are my prince.” She was smiling and Deepak was mesmerized. The feeling of humiliation melted away.
He ate to his content, the best chapattis with the best yellow dal. Washed his hands, then dried them with dupatta of her mother and smelled the dupatta. His mother jerked his hand away, “Why can’t you use a towel?” He didn’t know how to tell her, he liked the smell of her dupatta, it had heaven’s fragrance.
There was no double bed in their room. Just two single cots, lying in L shape. Both were lying on their respective cots, the Heat was keeping them awake. He was sharing his school talks, both were giggling, Deepak’s was holding his mother’s hand and after a while he fell asleep. “Ouch”, he woke up, checked his arm, there was a red rash. “Something bit me”, showing his arm to her mother. Mother patted the rash with love and mumbled a small prayer, and he was normal. He slept again. “Oh, no. It bit me again”, now he was looking for the culprit. There were small ants on the floor, coming out of the joints of bricks. But these ants were not on the bed. “Termite”, he shouted and pointed out the small villains to his mother. He stood on the cot, inspected the roof. “Here they are, coming from the roof.” That year, the clay, which they put on the roof, in preparation for the rainy days, must be infected. He looked at his mother, there were big tears, in her small eyes,”Sorry, I can’t give my prince, a good life.”
Now it was, Deepak’s turn, he hugged his mother and happiness filled their room.
Seventeen years later, he was in the same room. He just had a lavish three course dinner. The room was now beautifully painted, a soft n luxurious bed had replaced the ’manjees’. The room was cool and comfortable with an AC. but the mind was having flashbacks ………. The sweltering heat of June, listening to the taunts fee accountant and friend’s making fun, the painful sting of the termite and fragrance of his mother’s dupatta.
He was unable to find out whether two termite bites, boiling hot afternoon and mother’s hug was sorrowful.
Or today all luxury, without his mother, was more agonizing.
Everytime you can’t have everything,
enjoy every moment of present, with whatever you have….
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