Realization

Image courtesy of Stuart Miles
at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The temperature outside was minus two. No one dared step outside. Yet little Riya and Raghav wished they could just jump out. The heat inside was scorching. Dad and mom were at loggerheads. As usual the bone of contention were grandpa and grandma. Raghav and Riya could not understand why these two sweet beings were always the target of Dad and Mom’s anger and frustration.

Ever since they could remember, Grandpa and Grandma had been with them, taking care of all their needs physical and emotional. Mom and Dad were too busy in their own special world, a world of luxuries, parties and night clubs. They never had time for Riya and Raghav. Hence they never could bond with the two. For Riya and Raghav grandpa and grandma were the best. But since the past few months Grandpa seemed to be acting queer. He seemed to be forgetting things, names and people. He spoke to Riya as though she was his mother. He acted as though he was a college student. This had grandma worried. She tried to speak to Dad. She wanted him to take grandpa to a doctor. But dad had left it to mom.

Mom, was least interested in grandpa’s health.  She put off the visit to the doctor on one pretext or another. Finally things had come to such a pass that grandpa now failed to recognize people and was throwing tantrums as a kid of four would do. Now they planned to send him to an asylum. Grandma had vehemently opposed the move and what followed was a war of words, words that made it practically impossible for little Riya and Raghav to stay indoors. The sight of grandma broke their heart. That day the two did not step out of their room, neither for lunch nor for dinner. The maid called them. They sent her away saying they did not wish anyone to disturb them. Dad and Mom let them be.

The sound of a crow woke up Mrs. Kapoor . Slowly letting out a yawn she turned the knob and opened the door. She was just about to step out when she saw colorfully wrapped packets at the doorstep. She wondered what it was. She called out to Mr. Kapoor. The two took the packets in and slowly started to unwrap them one by one. Their eyes popped out in surprise. In one were small woolen clothes, clothes that Mr. Kapoor had worn when he was a child, clothes knitted by his mother. Another held an old worn out album containing photos of him as a kid. Slowly browsing through the same his eyes welled up with tears. There lay sweet memories of his childhood, memories of the love and care his parents had showered on him. In another box lay knick – knacks like an old thermometer, a camlin pen, a box a crayons, a geometry box ……. Each item brought back a memory. The thermometer reminded him of the nights his parents stayed up when he was sick and suffering from typhoid, the camlin pen a favourite of his father was gifted to him for his board examinations, the box of crayons reminded him how his mother spent hours with him teaching him to draw, the geometry box brought back the sight of his overworked father a man who did overtime so his son would get the best education. He broke down.

One peep into the last box and Mrs. Kapoor was left speechless. There lay a beautiful box filled with colourful glass bangles, bangles her mother- in-law had gifted her when she had entered the house as a Bahu. Her mother- in- law had wanted her to lead a happy and colourful life. The bangles were her blessings for her. Slowly caressing the bangles she turned to Mr. Kapoor when suddenly she noticed an envelope lying unopened on the table beside one of the boxes. She opened it.

It read, “Dear Mom and Dad, Hope these gifts will unlock some closed doors in your inner self and hope you will realize what you will miss when grandpa and grandma leave.”

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for 
Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

This time the prompt was " Do not disturb"

 

Inviting you to visit my blog  Fabric of Life too, to read the latest