The Eye That Loved Too Much

In the quiet village of Srirangpur, there lived a poor laborer named Ignat. He was a hardworking man, though life had not been kind to his appearance—he was missing one eye, and his face bore the marks of hardship. Despite this, he did his best to provide for his wife, Sharda, and their young son, Raju. Raju was their only child, and Ignat loved him dearly. But as Raju grew older, he began to resent his father. The other children in the village would whisper and laugh whenever Ignat was around. "Your father looks scary!" they would taunt Raju, refusing to let him play with them. One afternoon, as Raju tried to join a game of Gilli Danda, the boys shoved him away. "Get out of here! We don’t want you near us!" one of them sneered. Raju ran home, tears burning his eyes. "Why do you have to look like that?" he shouted at Ignat later. "Nobody likes me because of you!" Sharda scolded him, but the damage was done. Raju refused to eat dinner and stormed off to bed, leaving Ignat sitting silently in the dim light of their small hut. That night, as Sharda counted the coins in their savings jar, she sighed. "How much have we saved now? 100 rupees?" Ignat shook his head. "Almost 200. But this money isn’t for me," he said softly. "It’s for Raju’s education. If he studies hard, he can become a doctor—maybe even fix my eye one day." Sharda wiped her eyes. "He doesn’t understand. He hates you, and it breaks my heart." Ignat only smiled sadly. "He’s just a boy. When he grows up, he’ll see things differently." But Raju’s resentment only grew. The next morning, he refused to let Ignat walk him to school. "If my friends see you, they’ll make fun of me again!" he snapped, running off before his father could protest. Later, when Ignat brought his forgotten tiffin to school, Raju’s face burned with shame. "Never come here again!" he hissed, snatching the food and turning away. Years passed, and Raju left for college in the nearby town. Ignat and Sharda, hoping to be closer to him, moved as well, taking up work in the city. One evening, Ignat mustered the courage to visit Raju’s shared apartment. But when Raju saw him at the door, his expression darkened. "Why did you come here?" he muttered. "I told you—I don’t want my friends knowing about you." Ignat’s heart ached, but he only nodded. "I just wanted to see you, son. Your mother worries." Raju shut the door without another word. After college, Raju took a job in Mumbai and cut all ties with his parents. Five long years passed without a single letter or visit. Sharda wept often, wondering if their son was even alive. Ignat, though heartbroken, never stopped hoping. "He’ll come back one day," he assured her. But that day never came for him. One afternoon, while returning from work, Ignat bumped into Suresh, an old friend of Raju’s. "Sir!" Suresh exclaimed. "You’re Raju’s father, aren’t you?" Ignat’s eyes lit up. "You know my son? How is he?" Suresh hesitated. "He—he lives here in town, sir. He’s married now, with a three-year-old daughter." Ignat staggered back as if struck. "He never told us," he whispered. Suresh, pity in his eyes, led him to Raju’s house. Ignat stood at the gate, trembling. When Raju’s little daughter spotted him, she screamed, "Monster! Go away!" Raju rushed out, his face twisting in anger. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "You’re scaring my child!" Ignat’s voice broke. "I just wanted to see you, Raju. Your mother misses you." Raju’s jaw tightened. "Leave. And don’t come back." Ignat returned home that night, his spirit shattered. A week later, he passed away quietly in his sleep. Sharda, now alone, carried out the funeral rites herself, with no son by her side. Months later, guilt finally drove Raju to his mother’s doorstep. "How are you, Ma?" he asked awkwardly. Sharda’s eyes filled with tears. "You have a daughter now. Why didn’t you bring her?" Raju looked away. "I... I didn’t think you’d want to see me." Sharda’s voice turned steely. "Where is your father, Raju? Do you even care?" Raju flinched. "I—I don’t know." Sharda’s next words struck like lightning. "He’s dead. He died a week after you turned him away from your home. And do you know why he lost that eye you hated so much?" Raju froze as she continued, her voice trembling. "When you were three, a Gilli Danda hit your eye. The doctors said you’d never see again—unless someone donated their own. Your father gave you his eye, Raju. He never told you because he didn’t want you to carry that guilt." Raju collapsed to his knees, sobbing. All the years of hatred, the cruel words, and the missed chances—flooded his mind. "I didn’t know," he choked out. "Oh God, what have I done?" Sharda placed a hand on his shoulder. "It’s not too late for me, beta. But your father... he waited for you until his last breath." That day, Raju took his mother home, vowing to honor the man who’d given him everything—even his sight—while asking for nothing in return.