This street- yes I remember, the lone light post no longer remains lonely, either I the once left out lonesome toddler remain lonely no more. The time was ripe, my convent education was now over and I had to depart from my orphanage to find my own home and a living in the concrete jungle.
After hours of tiring travel I arrived in the capital of the state. As the moon was already at the zenith, I decided it best to hurry this night in the bus station itself before scouring the city for a rental house. Finding a house was not my first priority but finding a job was. My education was fairly good because my orphanage was not rich enough to send me to a college for acquiring a degree. The bus stand was too clamorous for a sound sleep, but my body was too fatigued to even consider it, soon I dozed off.
A bus honk woke me. The sun had not yet risen, as I did not own a watch I asked the nearby tourists, the time was 3:30 am. Thinking that if I set off now it would be perfect to learn about the city, I left the bus station within half an hour with my eyes fixed on the classifieds page of a newspaper.
The little money I had forced me to walk instead of taking the public transit to search for a house and a job. I finally found a house at cheaper rental prices. The sun was now shining gay in the horizon showering his earliest infant rays. I knocked the door of the house... An old man answered, without wasting another second he asked me to step in with a welcoming voice. This act puzzled me, why did he let a complete stranger in without asking the reason I had visited? "What do you want son?", he fired all of a sudden while I was still deep in thought. Comming back to my senses I stated him the reason and finally got the doorkey to my room which was the first floor of the house . The same day I was even hired as a salesman by a company.
It had been a month since I had left my orphanage. I made a good living here. My house owners were very kind to me. I also learnt that they had lost their only son when he was just a baby. Their hopes of getting their son back had not diminished even after two decades. Every day early in the morning they would visit the temple at the corner of the street to pray for their son's return, even I joined their this routine to comfort them.
Years had passed by now. My owner's and his wife's health was worsening. They could barely walk around and their freedom of movement was restricted to their beds. As they were deprived of their son, I took care of them as their son would. Despite their poor health they still continued to visit the temple.
In the mean time I received a call from my orphanage stating that they were shutting it down due to lack of funds and that I should come and collect my belongings. This message struck me very hard, I was depressed of the thought that I could not save an institution that once saved me! Pearls of tears rolled down from my eyes as I shut them to sleep while my old memories flowed one by one.
Within two days I returned from my orphanage. The nurse whom I had appointed to take care of my owners' reported that they would barely hold on for a week. This news saddened me further. Poor people, I thought, their only wish of getting their son back would not be fulfilled until their last breath.
The old folks no longer went to the temple because of their poor health. The old lady was broken for not seeing her son after all these prayers and suffered acute amnesia. One morning while I was giving medicens to the old man, within the blink of an eye he swiftly hugged me and cried with glee, "My son is back!", I was happy that their prayers were finally answered, I asked him where he is now? He replied, "He was with me all these years which I didn't realise, but now he is right beside me with I hugging him!". Did he mean that I was his son? Yes he did, his words were clear, but...how could that be? No! I should not tell him that I am not his son and become a sinner for hurting the already hurt. I hugged and gently replied close to his ears with a soothing tone, "Yes father...".
What the old man did next astonished me and made me feel guilty. He gave all his fortunes to me. Disguising as someone for their property! What a shame! I tried to reveal him the truth, but he shut me off saying, "I know everything". Does he really know I am not his son and just pretended to comfort his wife? I questioned myself.
Few days after this incident they passed away, together. Initially I planned to incinerate the bodies, but at the advice of my neighbours I cremated them according to Hindu customs and performed all deeds of a son, though I was not.
I still lived in their house, now as a owner. They had left behind great fortunes which I used to start an old age home. I married a beautiful woman and had a son too! One day my wife was cleaning the house. I found an old photo album on top of a heap of old books. My boredom made me to pass the time exploring it. As on I saw through the pages my eyes welled up with tears, running to my room all the way crying I picked up the box in which I had my belongings recovered from the orphanage. I found a tambourine in it which I held in my hands and collapsed weeping, what use will my tears be off when it was already too late.
This is what the album contained: A baby's photos. In almost all the photos he was holding a tambourine, the same kind I have, not just the same kind but it was the one. The old man and the old lady were really my parents. Oh! What a cursed being am I to know my parents only after their death! Bloody fate, this is yet another heart breaking game of yours...