Since Mr. Kapoor’s passing, the family’s roadside home in Chandni Chowk, Old Delhi, has suddenly become a delectable morsel in the eyes of his children and grandchildren. Located on a busy street, the house is worth crores of rupees. But inside, his elderly wife—86-year-old Mrs. Shanti Devi Kapoor—lives a miserable life, clinging to the memories her husband and wife created throughout their lives.

His children respected him even when he was alive. But when he passed away, they began to show their true colors. One talked about transferring the Lal Kitab (registration), another urged them to sell the house and share the money. Another even promised:
“Mom, come to Gurugram to live with me. I’ll take care of you. Sell this house, we’ll start a business with the money, and you too will enjoy the blessings.”

Mrs. Shanti just smiled softly:
—“This house is the result of my parents’ sweat and tears, and it’s also a place to worship our ancestors. If we sell it, where will I burn incense for my ancestors?”

But her words were lost somewhere. The children no longer remembered filial piety; they only saw numbers.

Then one day, after lunch, the eldest son threw his bowl on the table and shouted:
—“Mom, you’re old, how much longer can you live? Why keep this house? Sign the papers, sell it to your siblings, and stop fighting.”

Mrs. Shanti was stunned. After decades of raising her children, now they were staring at her, demanding she be thrown out. Tears of old age streamed down her wrinkled cheeks.

That day, they gathered and brought out the papers to evict her. When she refused to sign, her daughter-in-law angrily shouted:
—“Do you think you still have the strength to sit in this house? You don’t earn anything anymore. How much does it cost to support you every month!”

Saying this, they picked up the blankets, curtains, and utensils and dragged her out the door. In the hot Delhi afternoon, a frail old man with white hair, shivering with a cane, stood outside the iron gate.

Passersby cried out:
—“Oh my God, they even drove my mother out onto the street!”

Mrs. Shanti, kneeling to pay tribute to her children and grandchildren, wept:
—“I beg you… I only eat half a bowl of rice a day. I can eat a ₹30 packet of khichdi three times… Don’t drive me out onto the street…”

Only the sound of the iron door slamming shut could be heard.

The news soon spread throughout the neighborhood. Neighbors were furious, some with tears in their eyes. Mrs. Gupta, from the next house, came to Mrs. Shanti’s aid and sighed and scolded her:

“If they are unfaithful, heaven and earth won’t tolerate it. You should come and stay at my house for a while; it’s a sin to stand outside like this.”

A few days later, the news reached the ward office and the local police. People came to investigate and discovered the harsh truth: all the children, regardless of family ties, intended to get their elderly mother to sign a power of attorney for the transfer of the land.

Shanti sat in the small room provided by her neighbor, her hands shaking and rubbing her old wedding ring. Her voice choked:
—“Before, I went without food and clothing to support each child. Now they consider me a burden. It turns out there are only one parent, but the children… sometimes none of them are honest.”

Her story moved the entire neighborhood to mourn. People talked, were angry, but also worried about themselves. Everyone will grow old. Everyone hopes their children will be filial. But in this age of money, how many people still value their parents above land, houses, and Lal Kitab?

Perhaps, Shanti doesn’t want a bowl of rice or a packet of khichdi. She hopes for love, a loving home called “home”—where old age isn’t driven away, where Mr. Kapoor’s photo still burns every night with oil lamps and the chanting of the Gayatri Mantra still reminds us of the roots of love.

And from that day on, in the heart of bustling Chandni Chowk, people began to talk more about two words: filial piety—something that, if lost, leaves one with nothing but cold bricks, no matter how rich.

The entire group of children, regardless of their family ties, pressured their elderly mother to sign a power of attorney for the transfer of the land.

Mrs. Shanti sat in the small room where her neighbor had let her live, her hands shaking as she rubbed her old wedding ring. Her voice choked:
—“Before, I went without food or clothing to support each child. Now they consider me a burden. It turns out parents only have one, but children… sometimes none of them are honest.”

Her story saddened the entire neighborhood. People were talking, angry, but also worried for themselves. Everyone will grow old. Everyone hopes their children will be like their own children. But in this age of money, how many people still value their parents above land, house, or the Lal Kitab?

Perhaps, Mrs. Shanti doesn’t need a bowl of rice or a packet of khichdi. All she longed for was love, a home to call “home”—where old age wouldn’t chase her away, where Mr. Kapoor’s photo still glowed every night with oil lamps, and the chanting of the Gayatri Mantra reminded her of the roots of love.

And from that day on, in the heart of bustling Chandni Chowk, people began to talk more about two words: filial devotion—a thing that, if lost, no matter how many crores of wealth there were, would only leave behind cold bricks.

The news of “children and grandchildren pushing 86-year-old mother out onto the street” spread like wildfire across Indian newspapers and social media. From the Times of India to Hindustan Hindi, leading newspapers ran poignant headlines: “86-year-old woman evicted by her own children for a house worth Rs 1 crore in Chandni Chowk.”

People flocked to the gate of Shanti Devi Kapoor’s old home to express their outrage. Some people carried banners that read: “Mother is a goddess, not a burden.” Others, shedding tears, placed bouquets of flowers in front of her house, as if to compensate for the pain of being rejected by their own blood relatives.

Authorities intervened

Local authorities were forced to take action. Representatives from the ward committee and the police station came to the house and demanded an explanation from her children. The eldest son, who had been pressuring his mother to sign the papers, argued:
“We just want our mother to have a better life. It will be more comfortable for her to live with us! This house is desolate and unusable.”

But bystanders took the stand to testify. Mrs. Gupta, a neighbor who cared for Mrs. Shanti, said in a trembling voice:
“I saw them throwing things and dragging her out the door in the midday sun with my own eyes. Stop making excuses!”

The police immediately filed a report on the spot. The house was temporarily sealed until the investigation was completed.

Mother in front of the camera

In a small room in a neighbor’s house, Mrs. Shanti appeared before the television camera for the first time. Her voice trembled, tears welling up:
— “I don’t need money. I just want a roof over my head to light incense for my husband, to remember the times when my parents and children were together. I just asked them for a small corner… but they didn’t give it to me.”

That statement silenced the entire live television studio. Millions of viewers shed tears. Many people called helplines, volunteered to help with her living and medical expenses, and one family even offered to take her into their home to care for her like a biological mother. The court accepted the case.

The case immediately reached the Delhi High Court. The lawyer representing the community filed a petition to protect Shanti’s rights under the Parents and Elderly Persons Act, 2007 – which clearly states that children have a duty to care for their elderly parents, and that violating this duty can result in imprisonment or a fine.

On the day of the court hearing, the four children sat with their heads bowed, facing public outrage. The judge sternly stated:
—“You are highly educated, have jobs, and have families… yet you don’t know a simple truth: parents are one, but property is transferable. Your actions are against the law and morality.”

Mother refuses to sell the house

After several hearings, the court declared:

Shanti Devi has the right to live and reside in Chandni Chowk for the rest of her life.

Any action that threatens, coerces, or forces children to sign transfer papers is prohibited.

If they reoffend, all their inheritance rights will be revoked.

Shanti burst into tears upon hearing the verdict, but these were tears of relief. She whispered:
— “Mr. Kapoor… after all, our home is still here, there is still a place to burn incense for our ancestors.”

A warning to society

Shanti’s story not only shocked the entire neighborhood but also became a warning across India. A series of television programs opened forums for discussion on filial piety in modern society. Sociologists emphasized:
— “The deterioration of family relationships stems from greed. When money blinds the eyes, parents are the first victims.”

Many temples and charitable organizations in Delhi have invited Shanti to retire. But she still insists: “I just want to live in this old house. Not for the property, but because my husband’s spirit is here, the memories of my entire life.”

That night, in the heart of the glittering old city of Chandni Chowk, Mrs. Shanti sat by an old oil lamp, twisting her beads, slowly chanting the Gayatri Mantra. In the dim eyes of old age, a glimmer of peace shone through: she had saved her home, protected her mother’s honor.

Her story spread like a torch, reminding many children: wealth may bring wealth, but only love can create filial devotion.