Story this Wednesday-'A father is never Poor'

Story this Wednesday-'A father is never Poor' 

View from 50 storyed building in london

A Father is Never Poor

Here is the full real story:

"Ma’am, your flight is in two hours…" the PA reminded her.

Isha removed her glasses. Standing on the 50th floor in London, looking down, she felt an emptiness she had never felt before.

Her father, Sadashivrao, had passed away last night in Pune.

Isha was a successful businesswoman.

But in the last 10 years, she had not visited India even once to meet her father.

Why?

Because of *“that” day*, fifteen years ago.

Isha had received admission to a top university in America.

The fee was 25 lakh rupees.

Sadashivrao was a simple clerk.

Isha insisted,

Dad, take a loan, mortgage the house, but I have to go to America.”

Sadashivrao firmly refused.

“Isha, we cannot afford it. I cannot mortgage the house. Your wedding, my old age… I cannot take this risk.”

Isha was furious.

“You’re a coward! You’re jealous of my success. I’m ashamed to call you my father.”

Saying this, she left the house.

In anger, she found a scholarship from a trust and went to America.

While leaving, she didn’t even look at her father’s face.

For the next fifteen years, she proved herself, earned $ in Millions, but she never called her father even once.

*Present*

Isha reached Pune.

The old ancestral house was unchanged.

A few people stood at the door.

Sadashivrao’s body lay in the courtyard.

Isha noticed his shirt  it was the same old one she had seen 15 years ago*.

She didn’t cry. She only felt a strange heaviness.

The rituals finished. People left.

Only Isha and her father’s old friend, lawyer Deshpande Uncle, remained.

He handed Isha an old torn diary and a passbook.

“Isha, Sada left this for you.”

Isha asked sarcastically,

“What will be in this? Complaints? Accounts of how badly I behaved?”

Uncle became serious.

“Read it. You’ll find answers.”

Isha opened the diary and began reading.

Soon, she reached the page dated fifteen years ago.

“Today Isha left in anger. *She called me a coward*. But how do I tell her that the house she wanted me to mortgage… I had already sold it during her engineering. We are living in a rented place now. *If she knew, she would feel guilty. So I lied.”

Isha’s hands trembled.

She turned the next page.

“Today Isha got a scholarships of 20 lakh rupees from ‘Gyandeep Trust’. She is very happy.

She thinks she got it because of her talent. Good.

She must never know that I donated all my PF money and sold my ancestral land to create funds in that trust. She will think her father did nothing for her, she will hate me… but that’s fine. Even if through hatred, she will study with determination.

If she knew it was my sacrifice, she would feel burdened and never fly high.”

The ground beneath Isha seemed to collapse.

The “scholarship”she was proud of was actually her father’s blood and sweat?

The father she had called coward and stingy, had sold his own old age to buy her future?

She continued reading. The last page was dated two days before his death.

“Isha, today the doctors said I have two days left. You have become very big now. Whenever I see your picture on TV, my chest swells with pride.

My child, your anger may not have gone yet, but let me tell you something…

I pretended not to help you because I didn’t want you* to be a girl who *lived off her father’s money. I wanted you to be a woman who stood on her own strength.

You won, my child. I lost, but I lost happily.

Only one regret…

Before dying, I wanted to see you once, with my eyes full.”

“Your ‘stingy’ father.”

Isha hugged the diary to her chest.

She collapsed to the floor, crying uncontrollably.

“Baba… Baba please get up… I’m sorry… I was wrong…”

Her cries echoed in the empty house.

She had Millions now, she could buy any luxury in the world.

But the one gift the sight of the man who burned himself to give her light

she could never buy again.

Outside, Deshpande Uncle wiped his tears. He knew that for the last 15 years, Sadashivrao had survived on nothing but chutney and bhakri, so he could secretly send money to Isha in America whenever she needed it.

Now Isha understood…

*A father is never poor*.

There Children simply lack the ability to measure his wealth.

Behind a Father's “no”, there is often a sacrifice the Children fail to perceive.

Value them while they are here  because once they’re gone, nothing remains except regret.

Net Pick & Illustrated by Tejinder Kamboj

                           ( 1940-20?? )