The riots had broken out. There was violence and bloodbath all around. No one was spared. Neither women nor innocent children. My daughter Raya was returning home through the same route, at the time of utter destruction. As I saw the news, I slouched on the floor, not even in a position to panic. Just then, our telephone rang. My hands trembled as I went to pick it up, hoping against hope that I wouldn't receive the worst news of my life. It was the best instead. Somebody had rescued our child. She was safe with the police. The next day, she came home, unharmed but traumatized by what she had fortunately survived.

From the local police, we came to know that an old man had fought with all adversities, risked his life and, like an unsung hero, escorted around seventeen children safely. Our daughter was one of those. Presently he was in a government hospital, just out of danger, after fighting the toughest battle between life and death. Myself and my husband wanted to visit him once and express our gratitude for saving our daughter's life. So the next day, we went to the hospital.

As I reached there to see that nobleman, I got the biggest shock of my life. It took me a few minutes to get on my feet. My husband, concerned, asked, “Are you okay? What has happened? “

I somehow managed to point at him and murmur, “He's my he’s my…father.”

Perplexed, my husband asked, “But you said your father had died after your mother committed suicide. “

I was enraged. Angry tears kept on flowing from my eyes. Wiping them, I finally managed to utter, “My father killed my mother. He went to jail after that. He was dead for me. I was too young to ask. But now, I want answers. I want to know what made him kill my mother.”

I went up to him. He apparently could not believe his eyes. He had recognized me. Tears wrung out of his eyes and he raised his hands to touch me. I flinched in disgust.

Amidst his injuries, he managed to say, “I am sorry, my child. “

His apology baffled me. He married my mother. She loved her to death. Sacrificed her dreams. Stood by him through thick and thin. And he? Tortured her. Exploited her. Left no stone unturned to humiliate her to the extent that she found death to be easier than life. Although it was my mother only who had died, I was orphaned just at the age of seventeen. I grew up without parents and was raised by my maternal grandparents. He destroyed my mother. He destroyed my world entirely. And all he manages to utter is a simple ‘sorry’? And he thinks that his sins will get washed away?

He apparently knew what was going on inside my mind. That is why he said, “Please hear me out. After that, I will respect whatever you decide. “

I nodded in approval.

He begun, “I fell for your mother when we were working in the same office. Soon, we got married. After that she got promoted to a much higher position, and I was still there, from where I had started my career. Her success crushed my male ego terribly. I started fighting with her daily. Even resorted to emotional blackmailing till she decided to quit her job and become a housewife.

After that, I started belittling her and demeaning her. I was always frustrated at my work and hence, always took out my frustration on her. But yes, one decency I maintained is that I had never raised my hand upon her I did not like her meeting her friends, particularly her male friends. One day when I returned early from the office, I saw her talking to a guy. That sight immediately made my blood boil and I accused her of cheating on me and even tainted her character. After that, I stormed out of the house. The next day, I could see things in clear light. I realized that maybe the guy was a random stranger she was trying to help or was just catching up with an old friend. I was returning home to make things right between us. When I opened the door, I got the biggest shock of my life. Her cold lifeless body was hanging with the ceiling fan.

So long, in front of her parents, she had put up a great show of our happy marriage. In her suicide note, she wrote how she was okay crushing all her dreams for me, enduring every bit of my verbal abuse for our child, till I left nothing in her to be crushed after questioning her character. I was shattered into millions of pieces. I never respected her or valued her. But I had never thought my conduct, one day would force her to take away her life. I teared up thinking about you and her old parents. I could not imagine what they had to go through, and could not accept I was the one who brought such a catastrophe. I did not deserve forgiveness. I confessed to the court and was sentenced to ten years imprisonment for the offenses, cruelty, and abetment to suicide.

During my time in prison, I often wondered why did she take away her life. She was such a well-educated woman and ten times more capable than I was. She should have easily divorced me and punished me instead. Why did she choose to take away her life? Maybe it was her immense love for me that she couldn’t bring any harm upon me, but inflicted that pain on herself. The thought that I had snatched the mother of my seventeen-year-old girl, the thought that I was the reason why some old parents had lost their daughter and most importantly, the thought that a woman had to pay the price with her life for loving me so deeply, tore me from inside. I felt that I didn’t deserve to live and tried to end my life. However, the constable came in the nick of time and saved me. She reprimanded me by telling me that I had always been a coward, as I inflicted my frustration on the person who would never stand up to me, and ultimately forced her to end up her life. If I did have any remorse in me, if I really wanted to redeem myself, I should face the consequences of my actions because suicide is the easiest way out. I must serve my sentence and once I am released, I shall try to make this world a better place in my own way.

It’s been a couple of years since I have been released from prison. I did not have the courage to face you. Nobody would give me a decent job given my criminal record. So, I opened a Dhaba and started a tiffin service business. Within a few months, I could earn enough to sustain myself. Then, I started to deliver free food to the poor and needy, to lessen the misery of some to a little extent.

Then, a few days back a riot broke out. As usual, children and innocent people were the victims. I knew if I participated, I might lose my life but it was an opportunity to save at least some people from losing a loved one, even though I could not undo the past. I am glad to have some of them, one of which is my own granddaughter.”

As he completed his tale, I didn’t know what to do. He had destroyed my entire world fourteen years back. But standing at present, as I looked at my daughter, I had to admit that he had saved what was most precious to me. Can this right undo the wrong? I didn’t know. He had committed the sin. He had paid the price. He had even reformed himself. Life had punished him in its own most brutal manner. But in the riot, I had seen so much of hatred around that I could not find any within me. Somehow, from my mother, I found the strength to forgive him. And with that, I was released of all the pain I had been suffering silently for so many years.

So, after he had recovered completely, I brought him to my place, and told him, "Welcome home!” 

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