Sunday, 22 September 2013



weekend your post should begin with, And before I knew it, I had hit ‘Send’.

And  before I knew it, I had hit 'Send' button . I had typed out my leave letter, on my lap-top ,and the reasons for my absence from work. I immediately received a message on my cell-phone from Ananya Joshi, my HR Manager asking if I needed any help.

The Company car driver opened the door for me. The Yeshwantrao Chavan Highway is a boon to travel faster between Mumbai and Pune and vice-versa.
The scenic beauty along the highway is worth capturing on camera but right now my frame of mind was not focussed on the Nature's bounty but was a race against time to reach Mumbai to be with appa and amma.
Appa opened the door on the first ring of the bell. I noticed Amma with red swollen eyes and suppressed sobs sitting on the sofa. 

"Kaveri, stop crying" said appa. It was more of a command than a request.

I was confused and bewildered. 

"Appa, you said that there is a death in our extended family." It was a disguised question , imploring him to tell me of the deceased person's identity. Why were they keeping it under wraps?

Appa put his arm around my shoulders and dug his fingers and tightened the grip on my arm. I was taken aback by his physical intimacy .

"Your biological father expired today. We have to attend his funeral", said he.

My head spun and my mouth felt dry. I released myself from my appa's grip and sat down on the sofa with a thud.  

My biological father was a drunkard who abused his wife regularly and after my birth, the physical torments increased as he wanted a male progeny and wished to give me away to an orphanage. And in a fit of anger he hit her on her head. She succumbed to the injuries and the news was splashed across in the print media. I was three months old and placed under the care of a social organisation. Amma and Appa approached the social workers and thus I was adopted when my biological father gave up his rights on me. After my adoption they shifted to Mumbai from the city of Nasik to escape the media and social glare and kept the adoption, a secret from one and all including me. My biological father was given rigorous  imprisonment of 14 years and  on completion of his term he was a reformed man and returned to teaching. He kept in touch with Appa.

Just a day ago, he died due to cancer. 

After hearing the entire story , I asked Appa what was expected of me in the light of my new-found status.

We attended his funeral and returned to Mumbai the same day. Amma was still crying. I now realised the real reason behind her cries. I cupped my palms around her chin , wiped her tears and said , "Amma , you and Appa are my only parents and will always be. I don't care whether I am adopted or your biological child. You both treated me as your own and I reciprocate it."

I retired to my room after saying good-night to them. I sat on the window-sill as I had sat in my childhood days , stared at the stars and complained with tears in my little eyes that fate had been unkind to me. I have suddenly felt grown-up. Not because I am a score and three years old but all the rantings of the growing up years suddenly felt trivial and silly. Appa's strict upbringing and amma's worry to be home before sunset , the deadlines and dress code imposed upon me , makes me 'see' their love and care. Appa spared no pains when it came to education but was adamant when I decided to join the Company's branch for training and subsequent absorption at Pune. 

Peeling off the jaundiced layer of filament that has set on my eyes ,  I am now seeing things with a new perspective. I am now valuing and respecting their decision to adopt a murderer's child. If I hadn't found a loving home here , I would be languishing in an orphanage bereft of love and security. Now  as I look at the stars in the serene night , I have tears in my eyes to thank my fate. How lucky am I!

I said a silent prayer to my biological mother. May her soul rest in peace.

I started typing on my lap-top. I had a last look at it and with a satisfied smile I took a deep breath and before I knew it, I had hit 'Send' button.

I had informed Ananya Joshi about my decision to move to Mumbai and request for a transfer. I will stay with amma and appa to bask in their love , care and admiration.

This is a fictional story and any resemblance to real life story is pure coincidence. 

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