Congratulations were being flown in from all parts of the city. The phone was off the hook. There was an everest of gifts on his corner table. Champagne bottles, Bouquets and various assortment of expensive articles decorated his work table. But all these were unopened, unwrapped and left uncared for. With his back to those gifts, He was looking over from his office window. Seated on a leather armchair, in a Dolce three piece suit, He felt proud of his achievement. He had managed a miracle so amazing that the entire corporate world was at his feet now. Yes, he knew he was damn good. He was the Don…the Tsar… an Emperor. Chest swelling with pride, he loosened his tie and went across the room to sit at his desk.
He started smoking a Havana cigar, puffing out curls of smoke. He looked at those gifts with a scourn on his face. He knew that all those people were faux praisers, waiting to bring him down at the first chance they get. They had been all this while. He had never given them a chance. There was not one genuine “well-done” sentiment in all those gifts. All this smoke seemed to clear his mind rather than cloud it. He knew that all those gifts were expensive. It would be really interesting, just for fun, to see who had sent in the smallest and least expensive of them all, he thought. Gently smiling to himself, he went over the corner table to see which one of his ‘well-wishers’ had lost the ‘let-me-impress-you’ competition. Rampaging through the decorative paper, he dug in deep. After comparing one gift with the other, he finally found the smallest one. It was a box of homemade cookies crudely wrapped in a red paper with a note:
Congratulations son! I know you love these cookies…
… Mum
At once he closed his eyes and sniffed the box. He could smell his childhood. He smelt the feel of his mother’s hands. He could smell the days when he would fight with his kid brother to get his hands on just one of these cookies. He had forgotten her all in his quest of winning the race of The Corporate World. He had everything today, but his mother by his side. He had been a cynic who knew the price of everything but the value of nothing. Regretting the day he had separated himself from her citing career reasons, today he felt alone. But she hadn’t forgotten him. He still was a son to his mother. He broke down.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried. Tears running down his face, He went over his trophy showcase and with a sweep of his hand, and with great content, he toppled all the precious trophies… the cause of his current state. He should have stopped long back… This was it. He was going to claim his time back and catch up on responsibilities of his life...wiping his face on the back of his sleeve, he made his way out of his office, started his Mercedes, and started for a place, he knew he should have visited long back.
The cool wind of the drive across the sea, made him think more. He had been happy with materialistic toys whose novelty lasted for a few days and them they were replaced by new toys. Visiting his roots had never occurred to him…But now, he had learnt, just sending money at the end of his month was not that his mother needed. She needed him more than his money. The city was getting replaced by countryside and he smiled to himself when he could smell the earth. He had been lucky to get another shot at being with his mother. Many don’t.
Bringing the car to a halt near his mother’s home, he got down and knocked at her door. He didn’t care if she was asleep. He just wanted to hug her and never let go…The elderly woman opened the door and smiled a toothless grin at her Big Shot son. She was proud of him. Clueless about his state of mind, she said, did you like the cookies? I loved them mom, said the son, hugging her. To the world, he may be the Corporate Tsar, but he knew, he was just a little boy to his mother. He wasn’t rich enough to buy back the time to spend with his mother.
The box of cookies remained unopened on his oak desk, But he had had his fill.
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