Never lose hope.
But the doctors did lose hope. “You can take him home,” they advised the old man’s children,”No scope of his survival. We are sorry to say that, but we have to”
They brought him home.
“The pulse rate is nosediving,” remarked the first son.”Be ready with the ambulance number”
“In my memory” boasted the second.
“Cruel you are”. Commended the third.
“Stop fighting, please” pacified the youngest,”Let dad leave peacefully”
How to perpetuate dad’s memory in physical form was the next topic of discussion.
“We will construct a patasala, school for studies on spiritual science” suggested the eldest.
“Is there any connection between Appa and aadmeekam? ” retorted the second.
“Perhaps a charity trust?” suggested the third.
“Charity?'” chided the fourth son,” has he ever spent a pie on charity?”
While their husbands were in serious discussion, their wives, in low face, discussed how the belongings of their father in law, was to be distributed.
“Leave it to me,” assured the eldest among them.
“I came first into this house. It means it was I who suffered most and therefore eligible for the major share”
“Suffered most?” Chided the second,”what suffering? Spending his money lavishly for silk saris?”
They started quarreling. While their pitch was raising, the old man’s bed moved.
All the sons rushed towards him.
He opened his eyes and asked for water, by body signal. They happily and carefully poured a few drops of Ganga gel into his partially opened mouth.
“I want to sit” desired the recovering patient and with uncontrollable happiness, the affectionate children made him to sit.
“Ice cream” he demanded.
“Ice cream?’ they all screamed,” you are diabetic”
“What if?’ supported the daughter, “it makes little difference at this stage” A daughter is a daughter.
They gave him ice cream. His face brightened.
The rejuvenated called all his children closer and murmured, “I want to get married, find a mother for you”
Never lose hope.