Chapter 1
“I am her son”, said Dinu. He had not slept much over the last few days in the hope that she would survive. He was with her, right beside her, talking to her, cheering her up. But Cancer emerged winner. It was probably envious of her infectious energy and her endearing smile.
The doctor said, “You are a nice man. You were with your mother when she needed you the most”. Dinu thanked the doctor.
His friend, Maneesh, arrived at the hospital. He gave him a hug and tried to console the visibly depressed friend. Maneesh was a legal practitioner. He wanted to arrange for everything to ensure that the deceased could leave the world peacefully so he got on with the task.
“Let’s start arranging for her death certificate”, Maneesh said. “Do ask the doctor if a post-mortem report is required?”, he added.
“Why do you need a death certificate?”, Dinu asked Maneesh.
“A Death Certificate is a document issued by the Government to the next of kin or the nearest relatives of the deceased. It states the date and cause of death. You must register death to ensure that the individual is relieved from social, legal and official obligations, to enable settlement of property inheritance, and enable her/ his family to stake a claim on the insurance amount, if the person has a life insurance. It is a mandatory requirement as per the Registration of Births and Deaths Act, 1969.”, answered Maneesh.
“Thanks, Maneesh”, he said. I am glad you are around. I will speak to the doctor while you take care of the other formalities.
He asked the doctor if a post-mortem was required. The doctor looks up at the ceiling for about 30 seconds. The fingers of his right and left hand huddled like they were members of a cricket team. He bought this huddled unit to his chin indicating that he was considering the situation in its entirety before answering.
Finally, he spoke. “When the cause of death has been given by the attending/ treating medical practitioner in the Government Format of Medical Certification of Cause of death (MCCD Form 4/4A-) and there is absolutely no doubt about the cause of her death, a post-mortem is not necessary.”
He again thanked the doctor and started handling the arrangements to take her home. Maneesh had arranged for all the legal papers and the ambulance to take her to the crematorium.
Arranging for the funeral
Dinu had decided that as per the mother’s wishes, she would be cremated in the traditional pyre. As per Hindu tradition, the body is draped in a white cloth and kept on top of a huge pile of wood. Then, prayers are chanted following which the son of the deceased lights the pyre. The body is burned and the soul gets released from the body and reincarnates into a new body as per Hindu tradition.
Maneesh had already arranged for the logs of wood, kerosene, cow dung cakes etc. The ambulance had arrived and the body was placed on the makeshift bed where the dead body lay. Four of Dinu’s friend’s including Maneesh held one end of this bed on their shoulders and carried the dead body towards the ambulance.
They alighted the body at the crematorium and carried it towards the pyre.
The crematory operator checked if all the papers are in order. He also gave Dinu a document to obtain authorization for cremation of the deceased person. He then asked Dinu to remove the gold necklace on the mother unless he wanted it to be cremated along with her. Dinu asked the crematory operator to let the mother remain adorned with the gold jewelry while her soul departs the world. The operator then placed the body on the wooden pyre.
The Funeral
The Hindu Priest walked in, chanted some mantras and gave Dinu a lighted log of wood to light the pyre. He did that and with a cracked earthen pot on his shoulder and water flowing from it in a steady stream, he went around the pyre, and threw the pot behind.
There were only a handful of people at the funeral but a new face had managed to sneak in to the audience. Most of them were Dinu’s friends but a few faces were from the community. The new person who just entered waited for Dinu to take a breath.
He then pointed a finger towards Dinu and shouted in a very loud voice. “He is not Mrs. Ramnath’s son”. Everybody looked in his direction including Dinu and Maneesh.
“He is not Mrs. Ramnath’s son”, repeated the new face, finger still pointed towards Dinu. Everyone stood frozen. Time stood still. The crematorium was way more silent than it could ever have been.
To be continued…
Chapter 2:
A few people walked towards the stranger. “How do you know?”, they asked. “Who are you?”, asked someone else. The commotion started to build. Maneesh was the only person walking towards Dinu. The sounds of commotion soon started fading in Dinu’s head. His mind, in an instant, was back in that local train where he had seen Mrs. Ramnath for the first time.
That Friday Afternoon
Dinu is an expert sales professional. He could sell anything, anywhere and to anyone. And like any good sales person, he was a brilliant conversationalist. He could strike a chord with a child, a teenager, a youngster, an adult or an old man with the same enthusiasm and élan. And like any brilliant sales person, he was also an eternal optimist. These two qualities enabled him to connect with people seamlessly.
In that crowded local train, Dinu was talking on his phone with a client. He knew the pulse of his clients to perfection. He had a feeling he was just a question away from getting an affirmative reply.
“How will I know that the leads you share with me are relevant?”, asked the client.
Dinu had anticipated this but he delayed the response. He did not want the client to believe that he had been asked this question many times before. Sales is a mind game. He believed that if the client felt smart and important while dealing with him, he would almost always get the deal in his favour. If his stellar track record was any indication, he was a master at the “Sales” mind game.
Dinu finally answered, “Sir, I am so happy you asked me this question. Ratan Agarwal asked me the same question three years back and I don’t need to tell you where he is today. As did Samir Mishra and Sudhir Sheth. You are in the same league as these extraordinary gentlemen Sir. I will still answer your question. Our team follows a …. “
He knew his “ego-massage” weapon had clicked when the client cut him mid-way and said “I think let’s start the engagement. You send the final proposal to my team and let us take it ahead from there.”
Dinu thanked the client and heaved a sigh of relief. He, now, had the weekend to himself – to relax and to enjoy. He thought of taking a quick nap as he was among the lucky people in the train to have gotten a place to sit. He was just about to close his eyes when he saw a familiar face. He tried to place this face in his mind but could not recollect where he had seen this lady.
The first interaction
This had happened to him many times in his life – in offices, railway stations, malls and airports. He would often see a face which always made him glance one more time. A face that stood out in the crowd. The reason was not always beauty. There were times when the face wasn’t the best around but he felt a strange need to look or stare. He felt a strange connect. He did not know why. He also did not know if such things happened to everyone.
He again looked at the lady. She had a beautiful, yet tired and pale face. She had a huge bag in her hand. It appeared to be heavier than her frail frame. Dinu felt the need to get up and offer her his seat. And he did.
“Thank you for the seat, beta (son)”, said the lady to Dinu. “Most welcome, Ma’am”, said Dinu. He offered her his seat. Soon, one of the seats was vacated and he sat opposite the lady. “You remind me of my son.”, she said. Dinu smiled “What does your son do, how old is he?”, asked Dinu.
“He is thirty years old. He is currently working in one of the largest multi-national companies in the world. He is leading their Sales division and is a favorite to assume the post of the CEO within the next five years. The current CEO has taken him under his wings and he is learning the ropes well with him. He was a brilliant student. He topped his exams in every class. He loves cycling, swimming…. “, she went on talking incessantly. After a few minutes, Dinu got bored of the mother’s abundant affection that was flowing into the conversation. He decided it was time to change the subject as he still had twenty minutes to go before he could reach his destination.
“Why did you not go to the US with him?”, asked Dinu. Her happy and eager face suddenly showed a hint of sadness. However, she quickly regained composure and said, “My son and his wife are busy professionals. If I go there, they don’t have much time for me so I thought it would be easier to just spend time in your homeland with family and friends.”.
“Interesting”, said Dinu but realized that something was amiss. They kept talking about various things and finally Dinu told her that his station had arrived and that he would want to alight. The lady said she was also going to alight. With Dinu leading the way, they carved a path for themselves to get out of the crowded train. As soon as she got out of the train, the huge bag that the lady was carrying fell of her hands and its contents lay on the platform floor.”
Dinu could see spare clothes, a newspaper, a few tissues and a file. The file read the name of one of the most sought hospitals in the country. The hospital specialized in Cancer treatment. “Either she is detected with cancer or someone close to her is suffering from it”, said Dinu to himself. Dinu picked up her stuff, put it in her bag and handed the large bag over to the lady. They walked towards the auto rickshaw stand.
“Have you stayed in this city all your life?”, Dinu asked her. “No”, said the lady. She told him that she had moved in just a year ago. She said that after her husband passed away and her son went to the US, it did not make much sense to stay alone in Bangalore.
Dinu offered to drop her as he was travelling alone. They both got into the rickshaw and it started moving. The heat was unbearable and the auto driver’s maneuvers around the potholes made it a bit more uncomfortable.
Dinu asked her, “What’s your name, Ma’am?”. No response came. The lady seemed lost in some thought. He repeated his question. He was as persistent as any sales person would have been.
“Oh sorry, I was thinking about something else”, she said. “My name is Arti Ramnath. I was a school teacher in Bangalore. I retired two years ago.”
A recently opened huge retail mart could be seen a few meters away. “Please drop me here. I need to shop for some grocery before I head home,” said the lady. Dinu asked the rickshaw driver to drop her just in front of its entrance. She waved her hands to him, flashed a very pleasant smile and thanked him for the company.
Who was she?
The auto-rickshaw started moving. Dinu turned back to look at her walk into the retail store. He could see her image fading away as the vehicle moved ahead. However, the image of her face refused to fade away from his memory. He reached home. He changed his clothes, washed his face, wiped it and sat down on his couch. He switched on the television. His mind still clung to the face. He just could not get it out of his head. He started to ponder if he had seen Mrs. Ramnath earlier. He switched off the television and started to think.
To be continued…
“I am her son”, said Dinu. He had not slept much over the last few days in the hope that she would survive. He was with her, right beside her, talking to her, cheering her up. But Cancer emerged winner. It was probably envious of her infectious energy and her endearing smile.
The doctor said, “You are a nice man. You were with your mother when she needed you the most”. Dinu thanked the doctor.
His friend, Maneesh, arrived at the hospital. He gave him a hug and tried to console the visibly depressed friend. Maneesh was a legal practitioner. He wanted to arrange for everything to ensure that the deceased could leave the world peacefully so he got on with the task.
“Let’s start arranging for her death certificate”, Maneesh said. “Do ask the doctor if a post-mortem report is required?”, he added.
“Why do you need a death certificate?”, Dinu asked Maneesh.
“A Death Certificate is a document issued by the Government to the next of kin or the nearest relatives of the deceased. It states the date and cause of death. You must register death to ensure that the individual is relieved from social, legal and official obligations, to enable settlement of property inheritance, and enable her/ his family to stake a claim on the insurance amount, if the person has a life insurance. It is a mandatory requirement as per the Registration of Births and Deaths Act, 1969.”, answered Maneesh.
“Thanks, Maneesh”, he said. I am glad you are around. I will speak to the doctor while you take care of the other formalities.
He asked the doctor if a post-mortem was required. The doctor looks up at the ceiling for about 30 seconds. The fingers of his right and left hand huddled like they were members of a cricket team. He bought this huddled unit to his chin indicating that he was considering the situation in its entirety before answering.
Finally, he spoke. “When the cause of death has been given by the attending/ treating medical practitioner in the Government Format of Medical Certification of Cause of death (MCCD Form 4/4A-) and there is absolutely no doubt about the cause of her death, a post-mortem is not necessary.”
He again thanked the doctor and started handling the arrangements to take her home. Maneesh had arranged for all the legal papers and the ambulance to take her to the crematorium.
Arranging for the funeral
Dinu had decided that as per the mother’s wishes, she would be cremated in the traditional pyre. As per Hindu tradition, the body is draped in a white cloth and kept on top of a huge pile of wood. Then, prayers are chanted following which the son of the deceased lights the pyre. The body is burned and the soul gets released from the body and reincarnates into a new body as per Hindu tradition.
Maneesh had already arranged for the logs of wood, kerosene, cow dung cakes etc. The ambulance had arrived and the body was placed on the makeshift bed where the dead body lay. Four of Dinu’s friend’s including Maneesh held one end of this bed on their shoulders and carried the dead body towards the ambulance.
They alighted the body at the crematorium and carried it towards the pyre.
The crematory operator checked if all the papers are in order. He also gave Dinu a document to obtain authorization for cremation of the deceased person. He then asked Dinu to remove the gold necklace on the mother unless he wanted it to be cremated along with her. Dinu asked the crematory operator to let the mother remain adorned with the gold jewelry while her soul departs the world. The operator then placed the body on the wooden pyre.
The Funeral
The Hindu Priest walked in, chanted some mantras and gave Dinu a lighted log of wood to light the pyre. He did that and with a cracked earthen pot on his shoulder and water flowing from it in a steady stream, he went around the pyre, and threw the pot behind.
There were only a handful of people at the funeral but a new face had managed to sneak in to the audience. Most of them were Dinu’s friends but a few faces were from the community. The new person who just entered waited for Dinu to take a breath.
He then pointed a finger towards Dinu and shouted in a very loud voice. “He is not Mrs. Ramnath’s son”. Everybody looked in his direction including Dinu and Maneesh.
“He is not Mrs. Ramnath’s son”, repeated the new face, finger still pointed towards Dinu. Everyone stood frozen. Time stood still. The crematorium was way more silent than it could ever have been.
To be continued…
Chapter 2:
A few people walked towards the stranger. “How do you know?”, they asked. “Who are you?”, asked someone else. The commotion started to build. Maneesh was the only person walking towards Dinu. The sounds of commotion soon started fading in Dinu’s head. His mind, in an instant, was back in that local train where he had seen Mrs. Ramnath for the first time.
That Friday Afternoon
Dinu is an expert sales professional. He could sell anything, anywhere and to anyone. And like any good sales person, he was a brilliant conversationalist. He could strike a chord with a child, a teenager, a youngster, an adult or an old man with the same enthusiasm and élan. And like any brilliant sales person, he was also an eternal optimist. These two qualities enabled him to connect with people seamlessly.
In that crowded local train, Dinu was talking on his phone with a client. He knew the pulse of his clients to perfection. He had a feeling he was just a question away from getting an affirmative reply.
“How will I know that the leads you share with me are relevant?”, asked the client.
Dinu had anticipated this but he delayed the response. He did not want the client to believe that he had been asked this question many times before. Sales is a mind game. He believed that if the client felt smart and important while dealing with him, he would almost always get the deal in his favour. If his stellar track record was any indication, he was a master at the “Sales” mind game.
Dinu finally answered, “Sir, I am so happy you asked me this question. Ratan Agarwal asked me the same question three years back and I don’t need to tell you where he is today. As did Samir Mishra and Sudhir Sheth. You are in the same league as these extraordinary gentlemen Sir. I will still answer your question. Our team follows a …. “
He knew his “ego-massage” weapon had clicked when the client cut him mid-way and said “I think let’s start the engagement. You send the final proposal to my team and let us take it ahead from there.”
Dinu thanked the client and heaved a sigh of relief. He, now, had the weekend to himself – to relax and to enjoy. He thought of taking a quick nap as he was among the lucky people in the train to have gotten a place to sit. He was just about to close his eyes when he saw a familiar face. He tried to place this face in his mind but could not recollect where he had seen this lady.
The first interaction
This had happened to him many times in his life – in offices, railway stations, malls and airports. He would often see a face which always made him glance one more time. A face that stood out in the crowd. The reason was not always beauty. There were times when the face wasn’t the best around but he felt a strange need to look or stare. He felt a strange connect. He did not know why. He also did not know if such things happened to everyone.
He again looked at the lady. She had a beautiful, yet tired and pale face. She had a huge bag in her hand. It appeared to be heavier than her frail frame. Dinu felt the need to get up and offer her his seat. And he did.
“Thank you for the seat, beta (son)”, said the lady to Dinu. “Most welcome, Ma’am”, said Dinu. He offered her his seat. Soon, one of the seats was vacated and he sat opposite the lady. “You remind me of my son.”, she said. Dinu smiled “What does your son do, how old is he?”, asked Dinu.
“He is thirty years old. He is currently working in one of the largest multi-national companies in the world. He is leading their Sales division and is a favorite to assume the post of the CEO within the next five years. The current CEO has taken him under his wings and he is learning the ropes well with him. He was a brilliant student. He topped his exams in every class. He loves cycling, swimming…. “, she went on talking incessantly. After a few minutes, Dinu got bored of the mother’s abundant affection that was flowing into the conversation. He decided it was time to change the subject as he still had twenty minutes to go before he could reach his destination.
“Why did you not go to the US with him?”, asked Dinu. Her happy and eager face suddenly showed a hint of sadness. However, she quickly regained composure and said, “My son and his wife are busy professionals. If I go there, they don’t have much time for me so I thought it would be easier to just spend time in your homeland with family and friends.”.
“Interesting”, said Dinu but realized that something was amiss. They kept talking about various things and finally Dinu told her that his station had arrived and that he would want to alight. The lady said she was also going to alight. With Dinu leading the way, they carved a path for themselves to get out of the crowded train. As soon as she got out of the train, the huge bag that the lady was carrying fell of her hands and its contents lay on the platform floor.”
Dinu could see spare clothes, a newspaper, a few tissues and a file. The file read the name of one of the most sought hospitals in the country. The hospital specialized in Cancer treatment. “Either she is detected with cancer or someone close to her is suffering from it”, said Dinu to himself. Dinu picked up her stuff, put it in her bag and handed the large bag over to the lady. They walked towards the auto rickshaw stand.
“Have you stayed in this city all your life?”, Dinu asked her. “No”, said the lady. She told him that she had moved in just a year ago. She said that after her husband passed away and her son went to the US, it did not make much sense to stay alone in Bangalore.
Dinu offered to drop her as he was travelling alone. They both got into the rickshaw and it started moving. The heat was unbearable and the auto driver’s maneuvers around the potholes made it a bit more uncomfortable.
Dinu asked her, “What’s your name, Ma’am?”. No response came. The lady seemed lost in some thought. He repeated his question. He was as persistent as any sales person would have been.
“Oh sorry, I was thinking about something else”, she said. “My name is Arti Ramnath. I was a school teacher in Bangalore. I retired two years ago.”
A recently opened huge retail mart could be seen a few meters away. “Please drop me here. I need to shop for some grocery before I head home,” said the lady. Dinu asked the rickshaw driver to drop her just in front of its entrance. She waved her hands to him, flashed a very pleasant smile and thanked him for the company.
Who was she?
The auto-rickshaw started moving. Dinu turned back to look at her walk into the retail store. He could see her image fading away as the vehicle moved ahead. However, the image of her face refused to fade away from his memory. He reached home. He changed his clothes, washed his face, wiped it and sat down on his couch. He switched on the television. His mind still clung to the face. He just could not get it out of his head. He started to ponder if he had seen Mrs. Ramnath earlier. He switched off the television and started to think.
After about ten minutes, he
jumped off his couch and ran to his mobile. He dialed a number. A septuagenarian
picked his call. The baritone sounded like a famous movie star but this person
was not in any way associated with movies. He had done remarkable social work
in his life and was very well respected for it.
Dinu spoke to the person for
five minutes and the last question he asked was, “What was her name?”. The
septuagenarian replied, “Mrs. Ramnath”. “Full name”, said an impatient Dinu. “Arti
Ramnath”. Dinu thanked the person on the other end of the phone. He said he was
going to meet him in person early morning the next day.
Dinu made a quick call to
Maneesh and told him, “We are going to Alibaug tomorrow”. Alibaug is a
beautiful place on the outskirts of Mumbai and is adorned with beaches. People
often visit this place for a weekend getaway. For Dinu, the purpose of the
visits was very different.
Maneesh looked at the date on
his calendar and said,” Why tomorrow? It is the first Saturday of the month, we
go there on the second Saturday each month.”
“No, it’s urgent.”, said Dinu.
Maneesh agreed to go and they decided to drive down to Alibaug early next
morning.
Dinu kept his mobile on the
table. He lay down on the couch and laughed. “She deserves it. That’s God’s way
of getting back at her.”
Today wasn’t the first time he
had met Mrs. Ramnath. He remembered that morning twenty-two years ago when he, a young boy aged eight, first
saw her. She was younger, prettier and meaner. He was laughing
but tears were also rolling down his cheeks. He found it difficult to crack
this emotional quagmire.
Chapter 3:
The pitch-dark night sky was
slowly becoming lighter. It was a pleasant Saturday morning. Maneesh arrived at
the gate of Dinu’s house and honked. The watchman guarding Dinu’s society was
visibly irritated, though Maneesh had honked only once. He came to the gate to
ask Maneesh to stop. He almost reprimanded Maneesh and told him that it was a
Saturday morning and most people slept till late.
Maneesh had a smile on his
face. It was his way of dealing with any aggression coming his way. “Do you eat
Chocolates?”, he asked the watchman. The anger on his face completely
surrendered to the confusion in his mind. He was rattled by the rather unusual
question.
Maneesh took out three rum
chocolates from his car and handed it over to him. He told the watchman about
the ingredients. “Have this before everyone wakes up”, he said and winked at
the watchman. The watchman smiled. “Do you want to get the car inside?”, asked
the watchman. Maneesh smiled again and made a gesture with his face which
indicated that Dinu was just a few metres away.
Maneesh could turn the
toughest of cookies into jelly in no time. He could do it without himself
getting angry or perturbed. It was a special trait, and was especially helpful
in his profession.
The drive to Alibaug
Dinu got into the car and
Maneesh started driving. The watchman smiled and even waved at Maneesh,
thanking him once again for the chocolates. Dinu was not his usual self though.
He was lost in thought.
“Good morning, hope all is
well?”, asked Maneesh. Dinu nodded his head. “I don’t think so. Just blurt it
out and you will feel better.”, said Maneesh. Like an afterthought, he added, “I
know you are a kick-ass salesman but that does not mean you can lie to a lawyer”.
The friends laughed.
Dinu narrated the incident.
Maneesh listened intently. Just when Dinu finished narrating the entire
incident from the previous day in fine detail, Maneesh pulled the car off the
road into their usual petrol pump.
The price of petrol had gone
up by three rupees. “Kitna bharu sahib”
(how much petrol should I fill in?)”, the attendant at the petrol pump asked
Maneesh.
He asked him to fill petrol
for two thousand rupees. “Full tank bhar
lo sahib”, advised the petrol pump attendant. “Will I get a discount if I
do that?”, asked Maneesh. It had the same effect on the attendant as the
watchman at Dinu’s place. He was totally confused. However, Maneesh asked him
to go ahead after giving a thought to his plans for the upcoming week.
Maneesh handed him the money
and they continued their journey. “So, what are you planning to do?”, asked Maneesh.
“I want to talk to father. I want to talk to him about that day. I still
remember it vividly. It seems like it happened just yesterday.”
“Don’t you think you should
let go of it and move on?”, asked Maneesh. “Dinu stared at Maneesh and said, “It
is easy for you to say that. You will never understand how that pain; not in
this life.”
Maneesh gauged that it would
have been sensible to leave Dinu alone for some time. He switched on the radio
and continued to drive. A leading RJ, who had a peppy number created by the
radio station just for him, was on air. The number described him as the Voice
of Mumbai.
He had a different voice and
was adept at conversing in English, Hindi and the local language spoken in
Mumbai (and Maharashtra), called “Marathi”.
He spoke about the issue of increase
in school fees and was airing views from irked parents. After some intense
comments, he decided to clear the tension with a new chartbuster which was
making waves. The song, composed by a youth sensation, had lyrics wherein a
girl insisted that the DJ play the song she liked.
The usual stop-over for tea
was rather quick and they reached the destination within the next hour.
The Angel Nest
The “Angel Nest” was a few
months away from completing its fiftieth anniversary, or Golden Jubilee as it
is often referred to as. Over the years, the institution had done some great
work and empowered a lot of orphaned children with education and shelter till
the time they could take care of themselves independently.
Dinu was one such child. For
as long back as he could recall, the only face that he could remember as his
first port of call was father Francis. Father Francis was running this
orphanage for the last 40 years. He was a very well respected person in the
community and was admired for his work. He has been conferred with a lot of
awards.
Father Francis was the face of Angel Nest. Industrialists, cricketers
and film-stars contributed to “Angel’s Nest” as they had complete faith in Father
Francis.
Dinu’s visit was unexpected.
The children always expected them on a second Saturday so it was unusual for
them to see him and Maneesh uncle. However, they were more than happy to
receive their share of chocolates and cookies which uncle Dinu and Maneesh invariably
bought for them.
After their routine
interaction with the kids, Dinu and Maneesh went inside to meet father Francis.
The ever-smiling father Francis welcomed them both to his cabin. They sat
opposite father.
Dinu did not waste too much
time. The father listened to his narration once again. Dinu ended it with, “As
you sow, so shall you reap. That’s what you have always told father. She will
have to pay for her sins.”.
“What sins?”, asked the
father.
“You are asking me that. You
very well know why she chose Gary over me on that day when she came to adopt a
kid at the orphanage.”
“Who told you all this Dinu?”,
asked the father, calm as ever.
“I knew she chose me over Gary
because he was a better student and was considered more intelligent than me. I
won’t tell you the source as he confided this to me on the condition that I
keep his identity confidential.”, replied Dinu.
He was angry and sad at the
same time.
The father was angry at the
undisclosed source of the information but he did not show it. He told Dinu, “Your
source has misguided you. There was no choice to make in the first place. She
decided to adopt Gary, not because he was the brightest, but because he was
physically weak and was a sick child. She wanted the neediest child in the orphanage
to get the love and care. That’s all. I am so disappointed that you are
carrying unnecessary venom within you for so long.”
Dinu was now confused. The
father further added to it by saying, “You know what.
The very next day after
she adopted Gary, she called me and said that she would like to fund your
education and expenses as she was feeling bad that she could not adopt you.
Without being around, she took great care of you, Dinu. If I were you, I would
see what best I could do for her in this tough phase of her life. I would
expect the same from every child who has lived here and is now a capable and
self-dependent individual.”
The father’s words had
completely changed Dinu. He was no more upset or sad. He was feeling a concern,
a void. He felt that he had become blinded by some unverified facts and it had
clouded his rationale. He felt guilty for having thought ill about Mrs.
Ramnath. He decided to track her down. He thanked father Francis and told him
that he wanted to leave. Father saw Dinu and Maneesh to the gate of “Angel Nest”.
The children waved good-bye to their favourite uncles.
The Confession
Father rushed back quickly after
seeing Dinu and Maneesh off. He hurried to his room, went to the almighty’s
chamber and asked for forgiveness. There was rarely a day in his life of
seventy years that the father had lied to anyone. Today, he had lied to one of
his favourite people in the world. Though there was some truth in what he said,
he still could not come to terms with the fact that he had to lie to get things
moving the way he would have liked.
To be continued …
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