To everyone who said to him, ‘Varma, congratulations on your wonderful son,” the father replied, “Yes, and do you know what is the first thing he did when he saw the results this morning? He bowed down and touched my feet.”
This moved many of the women in the crowd so much that they raised the ends of their saris and wiped away their tears. Meanwhile the men reached out for the betel-leaves and sweets, and shook their heads in wonder at such exemplary filial behavior.
“One does not often see such behavior in sons any more,” they all agreed, a little enviously perhaps.
Leaving the house, some of the women said, “At a time like this you would think they’d serve the very best sweets,” and some of the men said, “That old Varma is too proud! He needn’t think we’ve forgotten that he comes from the vegetable market himself, his father used to sell vegetables, and he has never seen the inside of a school.” But there was more envy than rancor in their voices and this was not surprising —not every son in that poor suburb at the edge of the city was destined to shine as Rakesh shone, and who knew that better than the parents themselves?