Coins in the Pocket

By Lakshman Vudanrao

He left his village for the city, his mother’s face more vivid than the muddy road. Warmth was scarce; congested rented rooms carried quiet scrutiny. The landlord’s daughter, wise and kind, became his companion: walking him home from school, bringing biscuits when ill, softly explaining—though he cannot recall—what the discarded pad near the garbage bin meant. On the day he left, she slipped coins into his pocket with trembling hands. Years later, widowed and gone, she remained memory’s bright ember. He never returned, afraid the haunting warmth might slowly fade. Her kindness still echoes in each rare coin’s chime.