Veena p koul
Thefts are very common these days. Almost every alternate day the daily newspapers carry the news about the thefts. One can hardly imagine what a horrifying experience it is for the people who fall prey to it. Loss of hard earned kind or cash is a shock no doubt, but the way the belongings are thrown upside down leaves a scar in the memory. I have experienced one myself.
One fine morning me and my husband left our home locked at 8 a.m. and at 3 p.m. on my return I found almost everything on floor lying in shambles. The theft had taken place. It was like a night-mare and took us almost 3 or 4 days to settle down and resume normal routine of life. I don’t intend to give an account of how I felt that day or how we settled down afterwards but to narrate how I overcame the whole psychological trauma.
It was hell of a job to readjust everything that was lying in sixes and sevens all over the house. But as we all know that what can’t be cured has to be endured. So finally, in the centre of the room, on the floor I seated myself with a heavy heart to do and undo things which were spread all around me. In the process I laid my hands on a bundle that contained some cards and letters. Ah, the fond memories, the reminiscences! I got absorbed in searching and finding whatever it contained. Therein I found 3 letters addressed to me, two written by my father and one by my uncle. It is needless to say that I adored and admired both of them. And these happened to be special letters they had sent on different special occasions. Now that both of them are no more, I felt that these letters were sent to me from heaven, and I still enjoy their patronage and blessings.
The bundle also contained a book ‘The Prophet’ by Khalil Gibran which was presented to me by my brother about 18 years ago. I remembered having read the book without actually understanding it. Now that it was in my hands once again, I went through it and found it as an unparalleled philosophy of life, and an all-time reference book.
Last but not the least, I came across some pages that I had preserved but conveniently forgotten with the passage of time. One of the pages contained the first sentence my daughter had written for me, “Mom, I love you”; the other one was a pencil drawing she had drawn; 3rd one the newspaper cutting carrying news of her dance performance in school. Along with it there was the first Barbie Doll she had played with.
I held all these things – the letters, the book, the pages and the doll in my hands, hugged them and kissed them. It filled my heart. I could feel tears rolling down my eyes that washed me of the bitterness created by the theft.
I had found the treasure, an invaluable one that will remain very close to my heart for the rest of my life.
Sh…… Sh…… Sh! No loud talking loudly about ‘The Treasure’. Only whisper, lest the thieves may listen and misconstrue the word.