Gold may be valuable, but relations are invaluable
Her name was Bishen Kaur, but everyone called her Bishno chachi. She lived in the neighbourhood with her three children and the memories of her late husband.
Bishno chachi would drop in on the slightest pretext and stay for hours together to help mother with the household chores. She would often rue the misfortune that had befallen on her because of the death of her husband but in the same breath, she would profusely thank the Almighty for blessing her with three obedient sons. The family pension was her only source of income, but my mother never missed an opportunity to help her in cash or in kind.
Months rolled into years and her sons grew up into intelligent young men. Her eldest son cleared the Union Public Service Commission exam and moved to a far-off city to join duty. The second one, in search of greener pastures, migrated to a foreign country. The youngest, a bank employee, chose to stay with his mother.
In due course, Bishno chachi solemnised the marriages of her sons. While the elder two opted to settle down in faraway cities, the youngest son and wife decided to stay with the aging mother to take care of her in the autumn of her life.
But destiny had something else in store. One morning, Bishno chachi woke up to find her gold chain missing. When a thorough search of the house yielded nothing, her daughter-in-law became the prime suspect in her eyes. This led to a strained relationship between the mother and her youngest son. Ultimately, to avoid conflict, the son along with his wife and children moved to a nearby town.
Now, Bishno chachi, in the twilight years of her life, was left alone to fend for herself. Her well-off sons kept sending her money regularly. but they seldom visited her. Bishno chachi had become a pale shadow of her former self. Her visits to our house had also reduced.
About a year and a half ago, she came to my clinic, unannounced. “I want you to accompany me to a jeweller right now,” she said in a commanding voice. Once at the jeweller, she promptly emptied her handbag in front of the goldsmith and asked him to evaluate her ornaments. I was stunned to find that Bishno chachi had gold worth a million rupees. Next, she ordered me to escort her to the Golden Temple. Once there, she divulged her plan to offer her valuable treasure at the feet of the Almighty. Though I hailed her decision, I urged her to hold back a small part of the precious metal for a rainy day, but she didn’t relent and parted with her entire cache of gold.
On our way back, she tried to allay my concern with profound words, “Dear, gold may be valuable, but relations are invaluable. I’m going to see my daughter-in-law and grandson tomorrow.”
IN HER TWILIGHT YEARS, BISHNO CHACHI WAS LEFT ALONE TO FEND FOR HERSELF. HER WELL-OFF SONS KEPT SENDING HER MONEY BUT SELDOM VISITED HER