A cute little story.

One day I went to the house of  Seth Murari Lal. After his wife died in child birth,he became a patient of high blood pressure. He was now fifty five. I was surprised when I saw him holding an empty box in his hand. His glance was fixed on the box and tears were dripping  on it. As soon as he saw me, he hid the box under the blanket, with which he had covered himself.  I became very curious. I slowly went and sat by his side and asked him what was he trying to hide under the blanket. All of a sudden the dripping tears turned into a stream. I let him cry, so that the burden, he was carrying would become light. Slowly, with his old, trembling hands he took the box from under the blanket and softly kept it in my hands.
                                               He said,"You must be wondering why this old box is so dear to me. When my little daughter Sujata was small, I saw a golden gift wrapping paper in her hand. As soon as she saw me, she tried to hide the paper. This golden paper was very precious for me. It had real gold strips  woven in it.  In a fit of anger, I beat her  hard on her face and burst out, how and why she  had removed the paper from my drawer. She meekly replied she wanted to wrap a gift for her friend. I let her go with a warning that thereafter she would not even touch it.." He was breathless and could hardly speak. I gave him a glass of water. He continued,"Next day was my birthday. I saw her coming smilingly  towards me with a box wrapped in the same golden paper. She was excited and gave the box in my hand  after hugging me and reciting  happy birthday to dear papa. I opened the box and was shocked to see that it was empty. In a fit of anger I again shouted at her and said did she not have good manners to put some thing  in an empty box, when she was giving a gift to some one?' The little girl, just five old started crying and said," Papa the box is not empty. Before closing it I filled it with kisses for you." Seth Murari Lal wept bitterly like a small child and told me, " My dear Sujata is no more. Last night she died in child birth. I am taking  her kisses from the box."



Written for Write Tribe Pro Blogger week 5  day 3.
This is a fictional story.