The elderly mother only asked for money to return home, but her daughter made up various excuses to refuse and even cut off the allowance. Unexpectedly, a few days later, relatives from her hometown called to deliver shocking news…
The elderly mother only asked for a small amount of money to return home, but her daughter made up various excuses to refuse and even cut off the allowance.

A few days later, the phone rang from her old village… bringing shocking news.

Mrs. Savitri – 72 years old – lived alone in a small rented room in Mumbai, which her daughter rented for her monthly.

All her life, she was a village teacher, living frugally, saving every penny to raise her daughter and ensure she received a good education.

Now, her daughter – Anita – is a senior manager at a large company, earning hundreds of thousands of rupees a month, living in the hustle and bustle of city life.

One evening, Mrs. Savitri called:

“My dear… I need some money.
I want to go back to the village for a few days. It’s too crowded here, I can’t breathe…”

Anita sighed on the other end of the line:

“Why would you go back now? The road is long and inconvenient.
I’m trying to raise money for a bank loan, and I’m about to open a new branch.
Try to stay a few more months, then we’ll figure it out.”

A few days later, she called again.

The phone… no one answered.

The text message… went unanswered.

By the end of the month, the familiar allowance she had been waiting for… was gone.

No explanation.

Mrs. Savitri quietly walked to a small pawn shop in the old market, took off her silver wedding ring – the only memento of her late husband – and placed it on the counter:

“Lend me some money temporarily.

I just need enough to go back to the village for a few days…”

Three days later.

Anita was in a meeting when her phone rang incessantly.

It was the number of a relative in Kalyanpur village, Uttar Pradesh – her hometown.

As soon as she answered, the voice on the other end trembled: “Anita…
Your mother is gone.”

She was stunned.

“She went back to the village alone, ill, and no one knew.
By the time the neighbors smelled the medicine… it was too late.
She died in the old earthen house – the only one the family still owned after selling almost all their land…”

The phone dropped from Anita’s hand.

The meeting fell into a heavy silence.

She hurried back to her hometown.

In the old house, only a temporary photograph of her mother sat on the altar, beneath which was a hastily written letter in shaky handwriting:

“I’m sorry for going back to the village without permission.
I miss the courtyard, I miss the banana tree your father planted.
I know you’re busy, so I don’t blame you.
If you ever miss me,
just come back and light an incense stick for me… that’s enough.”

Neighbors recounted:

“Every day she would sit looking out the gate, saying:

‘My daughter is so capable. She must be busy and hasn’t come home yet.’
But every night she coughed terribly, and no one knew.
That morning, people found her lying near the door,
still clutching the key…
she was probably going to call someone…”

After the funeral, Anita went to a pawn shop in Mumbai to redeem the ring her mother used to wear.

But the owner shook his head:

“An old man came to redeem it early this morning.

He said he was… an old school friend of hers.
Then he took it away –
with a very strange smile… as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his heart.”

Later, Anita rebuilt the place where Savitri died.

But not a house.

Instead, it became a small, free room,
for lonely elderly mothers on their way back to their hometowns.

A simple framed message hung on the wall:

“If you still have a mother –
please don’t let her return to the village alone.”