All that glitters is not gold

The old woman was living alone in her small house. She was getting a small pension after her husband died. She had no wealth except the small house. Her only son who was working in a hotel kitchen had left for Canada when young to work in a big hotel and rose to become a chef. Initially he used to call the postmaster (it was before mobile phone era) once in three months to enquire about his mother and convey about his wellbeing. This tapered off over a period of years. The last that was heard was that he had married a local woman.

She has been falling sick frequently these days. It is the way of the world for friends and relatives to keep away from the needy, be it of physical or financial help. Luckily, she was a woman of grit and had the courage to live her life alone though it was difficult during periods of sickness.

As she was returning home late one rainy evening by a deserted road, she stumbled in the darkness on a small boy lying under the protruding sunshade of a closed shop. It was wet and damp. The boy had a torn shirt and was shivering from the cold wind. She took pity on him and knelt by his side, feeling his forehead for any fever. The boy moved a little and moaned in pain or hunger that she could not make out. She gave him water from the small bottle she always carried.

Once refreshed he sat up and told her that he had run away from his village and had been roaming in the town for shelter and food. He had not eaten for the last two days. An orphan, he was living with his grandmother in the village. She passed away five days back and there was no one willing to give him shelter.

He said” Grandma, I will do all the work you ask me to do in your house for a handful of food. I cannot bear this hunger anymore. Please retain me as your help.”

She took pity on the boy and took him home in the drizzle. She gave him a towel to dry himself and some clothes to wear. Meanwhile she made a hot broth from rice and gave him a bellyful. She told him "Do not be worried. You are God’s gift to me.I will call you Nandhu You can stay with me. I will put you in the corporation school nearby. Study well. We can be of support to each other. Sleep well.”

Life was running smoothly for Nandhu. He studied well and helped his grandma as he called the old lady in running errands and fetching medicines when she fell sick. The old lady also found a purpose in her life and was no longer despondent as she used to be. She showered her affection on the boy as if he were her own grandson.

Nandhu had a fancy for film music. Gifted with a golden voice, he could imitate and sing very much like the reputed singers. He used to take part in competitions initially in school and later in public forums. Years went by and the boy joined some music director. He became busy and spent all the time with the director, mostly out of town. One day Nandhu explained to his grandma that he could no longer stay with her as he was away most of the days and came home at odd times. He told her he was sad to leave her but assured her that he would take care of her in times of need.

He grew busy and grew to be a reputed playback singer over the years. He came to meet her initially once a few months with a lot of goodies and fruits but these occasional visits stopped after some time. His work took him to Mumbai and he became so busy he hardly had time even for his rest and relaxation.

Meanwhile the old lady deprived of the only company, longed for her ‘grandson’. She became morose with a failing memory and over a period of time she became weak and frail, unable to manage by herself. The neighbours admitted her to an old age home. She was gradually sinking though living in her world of loneliness not muchaware of the happenings around.

When Nandhu, who was now a renowned singer cum music director visited the town for a gala award function, that was graced by all the big and famous, a few close friends could discern certain melancholy on his face. He brushed aside questions whether anything was bothering him. Immediately after the function he excused himself and went in his huge car along with his assistant cum photographer to the house where he lived with his ‘grandma’. When told that she was in an old age home and was in poor health, he rushed there.

 The old age home had never witnessed a car of this length and shine. They had practically no visitors of even relatives let alone eminent and rich men. All the inmates in their dirty semi-clad clothes came rushing out to see who the visitor was. Someone in the road knew the name of the director and soon his name was bandied about loudly along with a swelling crowd.

He rushed in to find his ‘grandma’ in an emaciated condition and fell at her feet sobbing ’Grandma, I have come, your grandson Nandhu. I have come to see you. Do you recognize me, your Nandhu. I am what I am today thanks to your compassion. I cannot forget the hot broth you fed me on the cold and rainy day. Grand ma, call me Nandhu once and tell me that you recognize this fat man?”

She looked at him vacantly with blank eyes tying knots in her torn sari. There was no sign of recognition. The director broke down and hit his head with both hands crying inconsolably and saying, “I am responsible for this pathetic sight. Had I not left you in search of money and fame, things would not have come to such a pass.” He did not notice his assistant was busy with camera all the time.

The head of the home said in a consoling tone that she had not many months to live and assured him that they would take care of her well till her last breath.

The music director replied, “I am giving the home a tidy donation for two reasons, one, is to give her greater physical comforts like a separate room good bed, fan and clothes and the second one for rebuilding and developing the home with greater facilities for its inmates.” The director took out his cheque book and donated a tidy amount and requested the home be named after her.

As he looked at her with sadness, she was still tying knots in her sari. Overcome with grief and sobbing loudly he placed his head on her legs before reluctantly leaving the home.

After the din and noise of his visit died down, the head of the home sat by old woman’s side and gently asked her, “You seem crest fallen. Could you not recognize your grandson?”

The old woman looked at him for long with tears flowing from her eyes and uttered "This is not 'my Nandhu' I knew and brought up. This is a singer who came here craving publicity."

The head of the home, nodding his head, gently ran his hand over her head and said, "Do not worry as we are all here for you."