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Parvati was a 66-year-old widow who lived in a small village near Sibsagar. She had spent her entire life working hard for her family. Her hands were rough from years of cooking, cleaning, and washing clothes. Her back hurt all the time, but she never complained.
After her husband died ten years earlier, her only son, Mukul, became the center of her world. She loved him deeply and wanted him to have a good life. Unfortunately, things did not go as she had hoped.
Mukul had once been a hardworking man. He had a job, a loving wife named Junti, and a young son named Rahul. Life was not perfect, but they were happy.
Everything changed when Mukul started drinking alcohol regularly.
At first, it seemed harmless. He would drink with friends after work and come home late. But over time, his drinking became a serious addiction. Soon, he spent most of his salary on alcohol. Bills were left unpaid. Food became scarce in the house. His behavior also changed.
He became angry, careless, and irresponsible.
Junti tried her best to help him. She begged him to stop drinking. She talked to relatives and neighbors. She even cried and pleaded with him many times.
But Mukul refused to change.
Every day, he drank more and more. Arguments became common in the house. Rahul often hid in a corner, frightened by his parents’ shouting.
One evening, after a terrible argument, Junti finally made a difficult decision.
She packed a small bag, held Rahul’s hand, and stood at the door.
Parvati watched with tears in her eyes.
“Please don’t go,” she said softly.
Junti shook her head.
“Ma, I respect you, but I cannot let my son grow up like this. I cannot stay in a house filled with alcohol and fear.”
Then she left.
The house suddenly felt empty.
Parvati missed her grandson’s laughter. She missed having someone to talk to. But most of all, she worried about Mukul.
Instead of learning from the loss of his family, Mukul drank even more.
Now Parvati had to take care of everything herself.
Every morning, she woke up before sunrise. Even though her body was weak, she swept the yard, cleaned the house, fetched water, washed clothes, and cooked meals.
Her knees hurt when she walked. Her hands trembled when she lifted heavy pots.
Still, she continued working.
She often felt dizzy and tired. Sometimes she had chest pain that made it difficult to breathe. Neighbors advised her to visit a doctor.
But Parvati always replied the same way.
“I am fine. There are more important things to spend money on.”
The truth was that she was saving every rupee she could.
Not for herself.
For Mukul.
Every night, he returned home drunk.
The sound of the gate opening filled her with fear.
She knew what was coming.
“Ma, give me money,” he would demand.
“Mukul, I have very little left,” she would answer.
“I need it now!”
If she refused, he became angry. He shouted loudly. Sometimes he threw things around the house.
Parvati was frightened, but she still loved her son.
To calm him down, she would take out a few crumpled notes she had hidden in a flour container and hand them to him.
She knew he would spend the money on alcohol.
Yet she continued giving it to him.
A mother’s love often makes sacrifices that others cannot understand.
Months passed.
Parvati’s health continued to worsen.
She grew thinner and weaker.
Simple tasks became difficult.
One morning, she woke up with a high fever. Her chest hurt badly, and every breath felt painful.
She knew she should rest.
But she looked around the house and thought about Mukul.
“If I don’t cook, he will have nothing to eat,” she whispered.
Slowly, she forced herself out of bed.
She washed the dishes.
She cleaned the kitchen.
Then she prepared a simple meal of rice and lentils.
Each movement drained her energy.
By the time she finished cooking, she was exhausted.
She carried the food to the table and sat down on the kitchen floor to rest.
The room was quiet.
Outside, birds sang in the distance.
Inside, Parvati closed her eyes.
And peacefully took her last breath.
That evening, Mukul returned home.
Like every other night, he was drunk.
The house was dark.
“Ma!” he shouted.
There was no answer.
He walked into the kitchen.
There he saw her sitting against the wall.
At first, he thought she was sleeping.
Annoyed, he shook her shoulder.
“Wake up, Ma! I’m hungry.”
But she did not move.
A strange feeling entered his heart.
He lit a candle and looked closely at her face.
The truth struck him immediately.
His mother was gone.
The candle trembled in his shaking hand.
For the first time in years, he felt completely sober.
He looked around the kitchen.
The floor was clean.
The dishes were washed.
A plate of warm rice and lentils waited on the table.
Nearby lay the flour container. It had fallen over, revealing a few small notes she had saved.
Suddenly, memories flooded his mind.
He remembered his mother carrying him when he was sick.
He remembered her working long hours to pay for his school supplies.
He remembered her comforting him whenever he failed.
And he remembered how he had repaid her love.
With anger.
With demands.
With alcohol.
Mukul fell to his knees.
Tears streamed down his face.
He cried harder than he had ever cried before.
But no amount of tears could bring his mother back.
A few days later, family members and neighbors gathered for the funeral.
Junti came with Rahul.
The little boy stood quietly, looking at his grandmother’s photograph.
Many people spoke about Parvati’s kindness.
“She was a wonderful woman.”
“She always helped others.”
“She sacrificed everything for her family.”
Mukul listened silently.
Every word felt like a knife in his heart.
After the funeral, he returned to the empty house.
For the first time, he noticed the silence.
There was no one cooking in the kitchen.
No one sweeping the floor.
No one waiting for him at night.
No one hiding money in the flour container.
No one loving him despite all his mistakes.
The loneliness was unbearable.
Only then did he truly understand what his mother had meant to him.
She had been his protector, his supporter, and the one person who never gave up on him.
Sadly, he realized her value only after she was gone.
Standing alone in the quiet house, Mukul made a promise.
He would stop drinking.
He would rebuild his life.
He would become the man his mother had always wanted him to be.
But deep inside, he knew one painful truth.
He could change his future, but he could never undo the past.
The regret of losing his mother would stay with him forever.
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