RIGHTING A WRONG

It was a Saturday and I woke up late. I started making coffee when the phone rang. It was a video call from my son Ted. Looking at me he said “Dad you’re growing thinner.”

I laughed and said “Grown older! What do you expect? Where are Kate and my grandson?”

“They’ve gone to some get together.”

“At this hour!”

“Dad you’re forgetting that I’m continents away and when it’s day there it’s night here.”

I laughed and said “Memory fades.”

“Dad did you go to the doctor? What did he say?”

“The doc has postponed the appointment to Tuesday next. What can he say? I’m suffering the aches and pains of growing old.”

“Dad what have you decided about moving to live with us?”

“Ted, I’m still running my business which is thriving and don’t have the heart to give it up. Besides, there is no one else to run it. You know while your mother was alive we had planned to visit for a stay and then decide. But then she was called.”

“That was long ago. Dad I’ve to close the call as an important business client is on wait. I’ll call you again later.”

I sat back sipping my coffee staring at the wall ahead of me. On it hung a big mounted photograph of me with my wife and Ted. I sat wistfully gazing at it. She appeared stately as she was tall. She was in a red dress with her long flowing hair done up. On her finger I could see the ring set with three diamonds. I looked slim, young and handsome though I now have a horseshoe shaped bald patch on my head and a paunch! Young Ted looked smart as always. Looking at the picture of my wife with the ring on her finger made me feel guilty. I recalled the reason. My wife and me had been to a wedding reception and were back that evening. A couple of days later my wife said her ring was missing. I said she could’ve dropped it at the reception but she said she had it on even after coming home. I said “May be someone came in and took it.”

She said “Nobody comes here except Lily.”

“You mean Lily could have stolen it.”

“I’m not saying it. She has been working for us for almost two years and we’ve missed nothing. It’s an expensive ring. We must complain.”

A complaint was lodged with the inspector of police (PI) who investigated. He said “I strongly suspect Lily. She lives in the slum and could’ve stolen it.”

I said “She has been working for us two years and has stolen nothing.”

PI laughed and said “These have-nots will keep watching and lift valuables when the chance comes. I’m sure Lily is guilty. I’ll get her to confess and get the ring back.”

After PI had left I said to my wife “Are we doing the right thing in suspecting Lily?”

She said “We’re doing nothing. The PI is doing his duty.”

“I’ve a feeling he wants to close this case finding Lily guilty. One up in his tenure.”

Lily had stopped working at our place. I felt bad as she was good at work and would come to work regularly. A week later PI said “Lily is a tough one. She has denied stealing the ring. Her place was searched but nothing was found.”

 A few days later PI informed us that Lily had committed suicide at her place leaving behind her aged mother and a daughter. We knew she was a widow.

In the meantime we did repainting of our home when the ring was found in a crack in my wife’s wooden cot. After the discovery of the ring my wife merely shrugged but I felt very, very unhappy.

I went to the slum and met Lily’s mother. I conveyed my feeling of sorrow at Lily’s passing and offered her a large lump sum as compensation. But the old woman refused to accept it saying her daughter had been falsely accused and had been persecuted. It saddened me. Meanwhile my wife had passed on and I again made an attempt to give money to Lily’s mother. But I found the slum had been cleared and none knew where Lily’s family had gone. Years have passed and I live with my guilt. I finished my coffee and got on to my regular schedule.

On Tuesday I was with the doctor and he wrote out certain investigations to be carried out on my blood. I walked into the lab. After formalities a pleasant young woman wearing a laboratory coat with her name Tara on it, called me into her curtained chamber. She seated me and said with a smile “I’ll collect the blood painlessly.”

I noticed she was left handed. Despite being adept she had a problem getting to the vein! She got me some water to drink and slapped and rubbed at my elbow and finally said “There! I got it.”

She drew the blood painlessly. It was when the sleeve of her coat was pulled back and the glove had descended that I noticed on her left wrist the little black patch. I remembered Lily too had a similar discoloration. on her left wrist! And Lily was left handed too! Could Tara be Lily’s daughter?

I went and immediately met the manager Mrs.Singh, a middle aged portly female.

She said “I hope you’ve no complaint against Tara. She is the best among our staff, good at work and very patient and good natured.”

I explained the background, gave details and said “I want to offer reparations. It is risky for a man of status like me to go enquiring about a slum girl. People will read many things into it.”

Mrs.Singh said “Her mother was a Lily who had committed suicide. I know Tara is married to Dev who works in the accounts department of a company. She told me that the company he worked for was to shut down soon and that he was desperately looking for an alternate job.”

I said “Please do me a favour. Tell Tara to send her husband to me as I’ve a vacancy. Please keep the matter confidential. You’ll be lifting a great load off my heart as I will be compensating for a wrong done unwittingly in the past.”

She said “I certainly will.”

I interviewed Dev and found he was quite competent and appointed him. He did well and my heart’s desire was fulfilled. I was sure he would succeed me.

END