A DEBT OF CHILDHOOD.

It was early in the morning when she arrived at our home looking frail and tired of her long journey from our native town. Savita was our new caretaker. She was a very distant relative of my dad. We were small kids and my parents were working so it was a necessity to have one.Savita came in a floral dress which looked weather beaten. She came from a very poor farming family and this new job would help her family back home.

Savita stayed with us for nearly a decade and took good care of us. She was a strict maid who insured discipline in us.We would consider her as a part of our family.She became a metamorphosed person with new dresses, lip stick and powder on her dark face.She also was growing along with us and soon wedding bells rang for her. She settled in the city. We were very sad kids that day. After all,She had been a part of our growing up years.

Time flies away and people get busy in their own enmeshed lives. Her visits became very sporadic and soon a solitary annual phone call was the only means of contact with her. I always remembered her fondly.

Yesterday afternoon my door bell rang and I was pleasantly surprised to see Savita with her son. She had come to invite us for her daughter's wedding.

She was as excited as a small child. She was very happy for her daughter who would now settle in a building flat and move out of her shanty chawl. The bride groom was a bank employee to boot. She was on cloud 9. Her unfulfilled dreams would come true for her daughter atleast.

Savita's husband was a watchman who earnt a paltry sum which he wasted on alcohol every night.She used to cook at a couple of houses to sustain her household. It was a sad struggle for her everyday and everynight. Her current enthusiasm and happiness belied her abject status.She had only her daughter's marriage, uppermost in her mind.

She waxed eloquent about her wedding plans, the hall, the menu and the sarees and the decor. She had saved every penny for this day.The marriage would be conducted in a low budget. There would be compromises and cut shorts.

I went into my room and cried, hugging Mansi whose eyes also were moist.

Her child like enthusiasm despite her shoe string budget really made me sad.

She also mentioned that she had just come only to invite us without any monetary expectation.

I did what I could do best. I had to repay my debt of childhood.

We spend so much on luxuries without batting an eye lid.

My act of kindness would atleast mitigate her current trouble.

Seeing the red notes amounting to nearly half her wedding budget, she just hugged my mother and cried in sobs.

We all cried yesterday.

TOY STORY..

We have a small room in our home behind the hall. We store stuff over there.

The attics have long disappeared from current homes by the greedy builders who try to build as many floors as possible in the given space.I have been to places where an odd out stretched yawn would hurtle my hands towards the ceiling fan.

My store room is crammed with an exotic collection of all the available toys in our town. Birthdays and pampering relatives have helped the cause further. There are soft toys, hard toys, cars, trains,doll houses and various board games too. If a new toy is desired by my kid on a daily basis, the room would never be tired of providing them. The toys sing and dance regaling the kids. Some jump in the air. My store room looks like a toy shop. The very act of entering and removing a toy also requires a lot of dexterity and care in the stuffed room. They keep on replicating exponentially like rabbits.

A curious incident happened that day in my place which set my bells ringing. My kids were playing with a toy G I Joe soldier who could fly in the air for a short distance with the aid of a rotating fan attached above his head and a battery powered generator. I had bought this toy only looking at the incessant pleas of my daughter.The soldier set me back by an astronomical figure which was the monthly income of our maid, sustaining her family. The kids were playing and suddenly the soldier flew out of our window. The soldier crashed down on the floor and a car just ran over him. I went down to look at the dismembered toy. I felt bad for him.

When I went home,the kids were merrily playing with some other toy. They had no guilt or remorse over loss of the soldier. They casually asked and moved on. If one toy went away there were others to take their place. This incident alarmed me and I thought of some action with its resultant consequences.The kids had to be taught a lesson which would make them value their possessions.

I remembered a small plastic car which was my sole companion during a part of my childhood. I used to eat, sleep and even shower with the car. It was a sturdy companion and break proof too. The car had become an extension of my body and at no times would I be seen without the car. I treasured it.I valued it. My brother too had a similar car and we would play racing games. We had the best of times. We would enjoy even the smallest niceties in life, those days.

We were not spoilt with many choices.

'Take it or Leave it' was the mantra chanted by my parents.

I still thank my parents for inculcating a sense of value in early years of life.

Last Sunday saw a massive exodus of toys from my place. The store room now contained only a handful of toys. The kids were allowed to keep only their most favoured toys. The orphanage authorities were flabbergasted with the number of packed and unused toys donated last Sunday. Each and every orphan would at least have a couple of toys to play with.

The kids were happy that day. They felt a hitherto unexperienced joy in sharing their toys with the unfortunate ones in the society.

I see them now more attached to their toys, taking good care of them.

Maybe, they will thank me in the latter years of my life.