“Look at your back. See there is an appeal in her eyes. She is eagerly waiting to see a smile reflected back from your face. At least, wave back to her”.

Mridula was constantly pulling the sleeves of her husband. The couple was leaving for London. They had come to India after a long time to visit Amit’s family. There were two members now—his younger brother Atul and his aged mother Sarita.

Sarita had reared Amit after great labour. Her husband was working at another station and she had to face a lot of difficulties in bringing up that naughty lad. But still he was everything for her, the little prankster who always kept her so busy that she had no moment spared to be grieved over anything. So much she loved him. Even after the birth of Atul, her younger son, love didn’t seem to have declined. She had always heard that the first-born is more endearing for parents. With the passage of the time, she started believing it to be true.

Today Amit was leaving. He didn’t even turn back once and she was bidding him farewell with a heavy heart. She came inside as if her feet were being dragged and burst into tears uttering how her son had become stone hearted.

Atul who had been constantly reading his mother’s face remarked, ‘Oh! Come on Mama. You’ve always loved him more than me. You crave for one who’s gone and ignore the one who stays here with you’.

Sarita quietened him. ‘You have always felt this sibling rivalry. How could explain it to you that the first born is the most expected person in the family and he directs his parents’ lives on new lines’.

There, while boarding the plane, Mridula again asked her husband the reason of his inertness. Amit calmed down her fears.

‘Do you think I have no understanding of my mother’s emotions? I’ve always loved her. Had I turned back or waved in return, she wouldn’t have been able to control herself. She would have sobbed endlessly. The bond of filial affection would’ve put me in fetters. Now at least she would wait for my homecoming next time with a heart little lighter’.