He pulled his overcoat closer against the chilly winds. At his age, cold was always an unwelcome guest.
As he limped through the iron gates, numerous children waved at him. He would spend time with them, but for now, he had a job on his mind.
He knocked at the open reception door.
Instead of Mrs. Sinha, a young girl, in her twenties, greeted him, "yes?"
"Is Mrs. Sinha there?"
"She slipped in the bathroom last week and had a critical surgery. She's bedridden for a few months. I'm her replacement."
Taken aback by this news and after a brief inspection into Mrs. Sinha's health, he explained the purpose of his visit to the girl.
She motioned him to a chair. "By the way, I'm Preeti Saxena," she shook his hand.
He handed over the cheque to her. "I want to donate this to the orphanage."
Preeti's eyes widened. "Ten Lakhs? Sir, you are aged. Do you have enough saved for medical exigencies? And what about your family?"
"I have enough, don't worry. And apart from a housekeeper, I have no dependents!"
Preeti smiled and thanked him.
As she started the formalities, his gaze fell upon a photo-frame on her desk- a picture of a beautiful woman, who seemed strangely familiar.... Could this be...?
"Who's this?"
Preeti looked up to where he was pointing. "She's my mom. She's no more! "
Numbed with shock, he slowly mouthed, "and your father?"
"He was a Colonel in the Indian Army. Became missing in action two months after I was born- later presumed dead. Ironically, his name was, 'Amar!'"
Preeti sighed, then poised her pen on the donation form, "Your name sir?"
The old man's lips quivered. "Amar...Col. Amar Saxena..."
Preeti's eyes met her father's. Time stood still.
"P...papa?" she whispered.
Amar Saxena pulled out his wallet with shaking fingers. Inside was a black and white photograph of her mother and herself as a baby in her arms.
The last time he'd seen them, he'd been summoned to the war front. Sujata had wept profusely and begged, "don't go Amar...please...our daughter...I don't have a good feeling...please Amar...stay...I can't live without you..."
He'd answered, "Sujata, I love you and Preeti, but I love my country equally. If one of you were in danger, I'd fight for you. Right now my country is in danger. Let me fight for her sweetheart! Let me go! Please...let me go!"
She'd silently left his hand, knowing it was the last time she was seeing her husband.
For two decades, he'd rotted in the enemy jail before consular help could reach him. By then his family was untraceable. After years of waiting for news of his wife and daughter, he'd given up hope and involved himself with orphan children. He made 'Devkripa Ashram' his second home, treated the children there like his own.
The day he came to donate his savings to the orphanage, karma smiled and gave him back his daughter and a part of his wife who still lived in her!
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Word Count: 504
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Author's Note:
Tribute for Kargil Diwas on 26.07.2019!
This story is dedicated to all our braveheart soldiers, who serve our country tirelessly, without any vested interests. They leave their families, loved ones all behind to protect our country, without fearing for their own lives.
Hail the heroes!
Jai Hind! Vande Mataram!
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