It was in 1998. I was in my 10th Std. Mommy had moved back to Kerala, having resigned her job as a Nurse in Kuwait a few years ago.
We had come down to the last bit of money at home. We had sold the 2 plots and 1 house she had. All our gold was pledged at the bank. It was not easy putting 3 kids through school / college without any income.
I came home from school and the postman had just left. There was a letter. From the Embassy of Kuwait. We knew it was an update on our claim for compensation - we had lost a lot of our savings when we fled Kuwait as refugees in the 1990's when Iraq under Saddam Hussein attacked and looted Kuwait.
We had heard about other friends and families having received lakhs in compensation. And though our claim was a pittance, it would really help us survive. We were in dire need. The shop keeper had stopped our supplies, as the outstanding had climbed to over Rs. 3,000. Our school fee was pending for some time now. We had stopped milk and tea. Bread was the only luxury. Apart from rice.
The 3 of us gathered around our Mother, as she opened the envelop, with much hope.
And she smiled.
We were elated! Our claim was approved. We are finally debt-free. We could settle the shopkeeper's loan. We could buy some new clothes. I could pay my fee. We could have ice-cream! One of us plucked the letter from her hand, eager to see how much the amount was.
But what we read made us teary-eyed.
Our claim had been rejected.
We didn't understand. Our mother had opened the letter and smiled. She didn't break down. Or cry. That meant this was supposed to be happy news! We dint understand. We sobbed asking her how could she smile?
And she said, if this money were to come, I would have fed 3 children. But now, that it hasn't,
Iraq can feed a hundred ones!
