Good Things Come in Small Packages
Sid works in Bengaluru while his parents live in Delhi, a city he first left six years ago when he was offered admission in one of India’s best engineering colleges in Mumbai. He completed his course two years ago and managed to grab a great role in an upcoming technology start-up in Bengaluru. Sid absolutely loves his job and enjoys his life in the new city too, except for one thing.
He misses his parents every single day.
Sid loves his parents very much. His father works in a bank, whereas his mother is a housewife. His father has not been keeping too well of late, and Sid has been really worried for his father’s health due to this.
He has had something in his mind for months, but he waited for the right moment. And this was it.
Sid immediately calls his landlord, and notifies that he would be leaving the apartment within a few weeks. He places a few things on his table, and carefully screens that nothing went missing. A few hours after having made another call, the items on his table are packed and ready to be sent to Delhi.
Sid’s ailing father in Delhi walks to the door of his house on hearing the calling bell ring in an odd hour.
“I think you are mistaken. We were not supposed to receive any parcel today,” Sid’s father coughs as he explains to the delivery boy.
“No Mr. Sharma, this has come for you. The name of the sender reads… Siddharth Sharma.”
Sid’s father walks back into his room puzzled, with the box in his hand, and gently shakes his wife’s shoulder until she wakes up from her afternoon nap.
“What happened? Are you alright? Is something wrong?” she asks, worried.
“No… no… I am fine. Look, your son has sent something.” He places the parcel in her hands, with the blank expression still clouding his face. She opens the box to discover nothing but an old album, the touch of which begins to feel familiar to her fingers.
They huddle up together in the corner of their bed, and turn the pages that bears old and sticky photographs of Sid’s childhood days with them. When the last page of the album is turned, they discover a small note folded near the spine of the album. It is Sid’s handwriting. Sid’s father puts on his glasses and begins to read it to his wife.
‘Dear Ma and Papa,
Yes, I had stolen the album from our bookshelf when I left for college. I could never express that I would miss you too. I know that even after we finish talking over the phone you still keep worrying about me.
Pull out the first photograph from the album. You will find a key under it. It belongs to ‘our’ new house. Well, a rented one, and not quite big, but big enough for the three of us. Papa, the tickets to Bengaluru are waiting in your email. Just three weeks more.
Ma, you should open those dust covered suitcases now.
Happy Parents’ Day.