That scorching July afternoon changed my life forever. That day started just like any normal day. I left my clinic early after seeing the patients in the morning. The heat was such that it was difficult to breathe and the sky was scorching like a white sheet. I was walking towards the city on the old highway when I noticed two figures near a bridge.
An old woman, who wore a saree with muddy flowers, and next to her was an elderly man wearing torn clothes and a pallet cap on his head. Scattered around them were old clothes bundles and a small suitcase that was probably several decades old. Seeing that scene made my heart sink. In such a sweltering heat, without any shade, it was not normal for those elderly to be there.
I stopped my car on the side and got down. The dust came flying to my feet. When I got closer, their faces were clearly visible. The woman’s eyes were red from crying. The old man stared at the ground, as if searching for an answer from the scorching road.
“Hello,” I said in a low voice so they wouldn’t be afraid. “Are you guys okay? Do you need any help?”
The woman raised her head slowly. What I saw in their eyes shook my soul—shame, pain, and a helplessness that no human being should endure. He took a few seconds to answer, and when he spoke, his voice was scattered like broken glass:
“My children left us here, son. They said they would come back now, but it’s been 2 hours, no one has come…”
It was like air came out of my lungs. How was it possible that someone would leave their own parents like this? The old man sitting next to him said in a loud voice, “Don’t worry, daughter. They will come or maybe they won’t. Anyway, now we have become a burden to everyone.” Those words pricked me like needles. ‘Burden’. How could people who gave their whole lives for their children consider themselves a burden?
I held his hands and said, “You are not a burden on anyone. I will not leave you here.” I brought them to my house. Their names were Shanti and Ram. They had spent 53 years together. Shanti ji was a school teacher and Ram ji worked as a labourer in construction works. They had four children. Three sons—Amit, Rahul, and a daughter Priya—had completely changed. Only the youngest daughter, Anjali, who lived abroad, took care of them.
Ram ji always had a yellow envelope which he kept close to his chest. One day he said to me, “Doctor Sahiba, you are very good. There is something very important in this envelope, but I cannot show it right now. ”
Ten days later, his eldest son Amit came to my house in his expensive car. He was lying that it was all a “misunderstanding”. But when I told him no, he got down to his reality. “These old men are of no use anymore, just occupying space,” he shouted.
That very night, Ram ji opened the envelope. He was a deed of 30 acres of fertile land. But the biggest thing was that the only owner of that land was his younger daughter Anjali. Ram ji said, “When my health deteriorated 5 years ago, Anjali saved this land from debt by sending all her savings. We knew that the rest of our children were just greedy for land, so we secretly transferred it to Anjali. ”
Anjali immediately returned to India. When the other three siblings came to grab the land with lawyers, they knew that nothing was going to come of them. Shantiji roared and said, “Mistake is called when you forget something. What you did was an attempt to kill us. You have no right to this house and this land anymore. ”
Today, Anjali is redecorating the old mud house built on the same farm with her parents. Ram ji now walks without a stick and the sparkle in Shanti ji’s eyes has returned. Greed was defeated and love won.
Concluding Message: Do you think Shri Ram Ji did right by giving his land only in Anjali’s name? Should parents forgive such deceitful children? Do tell us in the comments which country you are reading this story from.