"It is therefore with sincere & heartfelt gratitude that I would like to introduce you all to my foster mother Mrs. Kamayani, who was responsible for it all!" The rest of Pragya's brief yet moving address was drowned in a thunderous applause, which echoed through the walls of the Kamani Auditorium where she was being felicitated.

When they returned home, Pragya went first to the prayer-room where she first bowed to her foster mother's photograph and then paid due homage and thanks to the Gods. Long ago, Kamayani had give up trying to reason with her-she had not done anything great to deserve this devotion; she had only done what her heart told her was right.

They were just beginning to unwind after what had been a hectic day. Insistent peals of the calling bell burst the bubble of calm. "I'll go & get it, Amma," Pragya said as she moved to the door.

Suddenly, old and buried memories flashed through Kamayani's being. She wondered, "It was twenty years ago and I have again & again stifled the memory of Vijay, my long lost son. Why of all the days, have I been continually tortured by his memories today? My sweet innocent one! How had he turned into the unbearable, bitter teenager? How could I have brought such a rebellious spirit into this world?"

As always, after banishing her tears, she silently murmured a short prayer to the Almighty to guide her erring son wherever he was & quickly got up before she could add "may he return to me" to the invariably unfinished prayer.

She called out to Pragya, wondering why there was silence and who had been at the door. She was bewildered to see a tearful Pragya slumped against the open door. She saw a slip of paper loosely hanging from her outstretched arms.

This was quite unlike Pragya, who normally ran up to her first with every correspondence that ever arrived at their doorstep. She would always give it to her, teasing her first, that it was from Vijay, saying how repentant he was and that he was on his way home to seek her forgiveness.

Visibly shaken by her tears, she wondered what had upset her cheerful daughter on the happiest day of her life. She hurried down the steps, suddenly worried that she had become sick. Wordlessly a tearful Pragya got up, ran up the few steps and clung to her bosom while her body was racked by tearful sobs.

It was with a rapidly sinking heart that she remembered that the last time she had cried this way, and sought her support was the day she had just come into this house, twenty years ago, as a small dirty bundle.

It was that very day that Vijay had stormed out of the house in a fit of fury while she stood in the corner, tightly clutching the little, dirty bundle to her chest.

Even now her wide eyes threatened to rain down freely as it had done all the while Vijay had raved & ranted at her.

She seated her on the sofa and it was then that she noticed the small slip of paper in her hand once more. She eased it out of her grasp; suddenly time seemed to have stopped for her once again after twenty years.

The brief message read: Your son-dead. Last wish-collect body from - Mission Hospital-Allahabad-signed Supt.

Sangeeta Segal

Post Comment

Name : Email : Password : Comments :