“How can you be so irresponsible? Why don’t you sell that land? After all it is our son!” said Tulsi, on the verge of breaking down.
“I will not sell that land. It is the only thing that secures our future! If the factory closes down tomorrow then we would be on the streets! I will manage the money from somewhere else. Please do not badger me for the whole day” said Basak, with extreme guilt.
“You care for your land more than your son! I hate you. You are a very bad person!” cried Tulsi and then clutched Basak’s hand tightly.
Those were curses of love. They both knew that as they wept slowly at the early hours of the morning. Their son was lying in the bed, half conscious, suffering from severe lung infection. They needed money for his treatment. Basak’s story is not glamorous, but very common. Migrating from their state in search of work and ending up in a metro, trying to make their lives better.
“Look dear, I will try to convince my boss today for an advance payment of 3 months. That must be sufficient for us. If not, we can sell that pair of your gold earrings. We can make it. Trust me.” said Basak.
She wiped her tears hoping that what her husband said would come true.
Basak went for work. He worked tirelessly the whole day, sweating and his heart pounding fast. That day his work was equivalent to the work of three laborers. Finally he went to his Seth, telling about his plight. The Seth was reluctant at first but after much persuading he agreed to talk about that to his boss and tell Basak the next day. Basak felt better. He touched the Seth’s feet and left. He was wondering about what would happen the next day. He thought about it in the bus. As he got down at the bus stand he thought about the reaction of Tulsi, his lovely wife. He missed her smile.
An ear deafening explosion takes place and Basak falls down. He felt pain and he could hear nothing. His last thought, before he closed his eyes for the final time, was Tulsi and his son. He goes to heaven.
Tulsi is very tensed as she paces up and down the courtyard. Basak was three hours late and there is news of serial explosions in the city. Each and every minute of delay pierced her like a thousand needles at once. The whole night passes. She gets the news. Her tear glands have more work to do. Her son is still in bed. But he will live.
The next day she receives an amount of rupees two lakhs from the honorable Government.
A heart-rending narration.
I hope this never happens to anyone.