The cakes baked and the gifts wrapped. The Christmas tree was dazzling with stars and bulbs. Perfect, Rita thought to herself. The kids will be so happy.
Finishing all the chores Rita sat down on her favourite spot and pressed her face against the window . Intricate patterns of ice floated weightlessly downward from the sky above, each flake swirling and dancing, as an icy wind carried it towards her, guiding her down the memory lane.
On such a Christmas eve, eighteen years ago, Rita was sitting at the same spot, looking outside gloomily. The final medical report shattering her dreams of motherhood was in her lap.
She was sitting alone beside the window, at midnight, complaining to her God for this injustice, when a black car pulled near her house. A hooded guy descended and slyly put a basket at the dumpster and drove away quickly. Curious, Rita tiptoed outside. And found a new-born baby girl wrapped in a basket was crying aloud. Rita could only laugh at the conspiracy of the universe. Here she is crying for a baby and this tiny angel arrives herself at the doorstep. Thanking Santa clause for this unique gift she took the delicate little thing in her arms.
“Ma?”
With tears in her eyes, Rita turned around. The little angel has turned out to be a graceful young lady.
“Not again Ma,” she said, wiping away her teardrops.
When her daughter came to know the truth, she had just expressed one wish. To carry forward the legacy of love and spread kindness.
So, since last two years, Rita and her daughter Devi, have started arranging a Christmas party for the street children. As they say, the true Christmas spirit is putting others’ happiness before ones own, and finding utmost peace.
