How I made my Mummy smile – Joshua Mathew Ninan

I was just four years old. Mommy had just turned twenty-eight. Yes, it was her birthday.  Tucked-in breakfast, cards, phone calls, felicitations … it was her day. Daddy was trying to flatter mom, praising her radiance, her beauty.  He and my elder brother had already showered her with lovely gifts. I too had my plans.

In six months of careful preservation of my pocket money – granted by my dada, dadi and other relatives on auspicious occasions – I had accumulated Rupees fifty in my piggy bank.  It now rattled and shuffled with glee in my hands.  Today was the day when the vault would crack open and my investments would shower the sweet fruit of patience. I had decided to endow my Mommy with this fruit, who, in all my tiny life had taken delicate care of me.

In our tool shed, I had silently cracked it as it was supposed to be a surprise. Collecting every precious penny, scampering to my room in silence, avoiding suspicious eyes, I counted my treasure many times, ensuring my price. I had decided to buy her an aquamarine stone bracelet and knew that the cost would be covered by the exact amount I had with me. Draining all of it into my bag, I silently kept it under my bed—the safest place in my room.

It had already been decided that in the evening we would all go out to give Mom a treat. This was when I was going to shoot my arrow! The place where we were going was in the vicinity of where I had eyed my prize. After hours of eager anticipation, we all got ready and climbed aboard.  Dad was driving. We were on our way. We stopped at a traffic light. Amongst the fleet of cars and other vehicles, I could see a small boy of my age in tattered rags and a steel bowl in one hand. The other hand was missing. He was sobbing, begging, tapping at the windows of cars but no one extended a helping hand. Pity and anger welled up within me.

The traffic light turned green. Daddy was about to drive off when I opened the door on my side and ran toward the boy. Cars were honking; Daddy and Mommy were yelling! I opened my bag and poured all my coins and notes into his bowl. The boy still had tears in his eyes but they were tears of joy. I could see that a few of his teeth were missing. I instinctively embraced him as he needed the warmth of love and care.

Suddenly aware of the situation, I ran back to the car. Daddy was already out of the car, and Mommy had stopped yelling at me. As I darted back in, I could see a bewildered look on Mommy’s face. Looking at the boy, I could say that although my bag was empty, his heart was full. I was filled with mixed emotions, uncertain, why I had given away all that I had saved and, happy that I had given it all away.

Looking into my Mommy’s eyes, I could see that she too had tears in her eyes. A tear drop rolled down my cheek too. I asked her why the boy was crying. In a faint voice she replied that all he was trying to say was a ‘Thank you.’ I told Mommy that I was sorry that I would not be able to buy her a gift. She smiled and said, “This is the greatest gift that I’ve ever had—a son like you.

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