She stood there gazing at the huge portrait. The gentle figure in it sitting against the tanned backdrop, was an image to behold! Her brown hair tied up into a bun and her sparkling smile made Angel’s heart throb. When her deep gaze met the dark blue eyes of her mother, at once she was gripped by the same emptiness that had haunted her for years. She tried, tried hard to hold her tears but failed miserably. She knew she could neither forgive the urchin nor her mother.


Angel had lost her father to Typhoid when she was barely two. Ever since then, her world revolved around her mother. Five years ago when her mother too left her, she was torn apart. In an attempt to save a street urchin her mother was crushed under a car. This incident left her shattered and she had lost faith in goodness. Broken and devastated she left her home in search of peace. But a letter from her now bed ridden granny, brought her back home.


(Knock at the door…maid entered)

“Granny had sent this packet for you.” 

(Maid exited)

She unwrapped the packet and found it to be her mother’s diary. She flickered a faint smile. While reading and flipping through the yellow leaves, her eyes fell on the satin bookmark that lay crumpled between the pages as if indicating “INTERMISSION”.

“2 April, 1902, Sunday

After a long struggle destiny had landed all seven of us in a dense, wild forest. It was getting dark and darker became our fears. We decided to gather hay and fire-wood to sustain the night. Later we gathered around the bonfire that radiated light and warmth to combat the darkness and gloominess that had engulfed each of us. We sat there in silence praying for daylight. 

All of a sudden we were startled by a soft moan coming from a distant thicket. The soft moaning gradually turned to a wild shrieking. The sound appeared to be human. I gathered all my courage and took a feeble step ahead. One of my friends warned, “It must be a cursed spirit!” I snapped at her and moved towards the moaning as if driven by some inexplicable force. 

Alas! Behind the thickets, there lay an infant, barely a few days old, swaddled in a coarse white cloth. I quickly picked her up to comfort her. We were all swayed by the innocent and beautiful smile of the baby and were immensely moved by the cruelty she had suffered. 

“You see, she is an angel in disguise! She is my Angel!”

Tears rolled down as she read the last line. Her mind was flooded with memories of her childhood, memories that formed the very part of her existence. She choked, her heart ached to see her mother, to feel her and to smell her. She was filled with gratitude. She wanted to thank her for her kindness and above all for restoring her faith in goodness. 


urchin: a young child who is poorly or raggedly dressed.


Photo By: Pixabay

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