Two brothers beg for leftover rice to run home for their mother who is PARALYZED in bed – unexpectedly meeting their father from the past who is now
The afternoon rain poured down a small alley in Mumbai, splashing on the thin, worn-out shirt of Priyansh – a young man of only twenty-one years old, thin in build but with a strong gaze. He was riding an old, dilapidated bicycle, on the basket of which were two plastic lunch boxes – leftovers that people pitied after their shift at the restaurant.

“Come on Priyansh… mom is waiting for food,” he whispered to himself, his lips purple from the cold.

The ten-square-meter rented room at the end of the alley is where Priyansh and his mother live. His mother – Asha – used to be a garment worker, after a traffic accident, she was paralyzed on one side, bedridden for more than three years. Since that day, Priyansh dropped out of college, worked as a waiter, dishwasher, and waiter, just hoping to have money to buy medicine for his mother.

Tonight, it was raining, the road was deserted. Priyansh pulled into a fancy restaurant on the side of the road – where he usually asked for leftovers. But this time, a new manager appeared, coldly chasing him away:
– “There’s no more food distribution here! Go somewhere else!”

Priyansh bowed his head and whispered:
– “Brother, I’m just asking for some old food for my mother, she’s paralyzed and bedridden…”

A deep, decisive voice rang out from behind:
– “Wait, let me see him.”

A deep and authoritative voice – of a man in his fifties, wearing a white shirt and a Rolex watch. He looked Priyansh up and down, then slowly asked:…
– “What’s your name?”
– “Yes… Priyansh.”
– “Priyansh… what’s your last name?”
– “Yes, his last name is Sharma.”

The man paused, his eyes stunned. His hand trembled slightly, then he clenched the coffee cup on the table.

He was Mr. Raghav Sharma, the owner of a luxury restaurant chain, a billionaire who had lost his son in a bitter divorce. His wife, Asha, left when he was still busy with his career, not knowing that she was carrying his blood.

Now, the young man standing in front of him – skinny, poor – had the same face, eyes, and mole under the corner of his lips as his father.

– “You… what was your mother’s name?”
– “Yes, my mother is Asha.”

The cup in Mr. Raghav’s hand fell to the ground and shattered.

The whole room fell into silence. He approached, his eyes torn between doubt and hope:
– “Priyansh… where is your mother?”

Priyansh was surprised:
– “In the boarding house in alley 18… how did you know my mother?”

Mr. Raghav did not answer, only said softly:
– “Get in the car. I want to see her.”

The luxury car rolled in the rainy night. Priyansh sat in the back seat, still holding two plastic lunch boxes, his heart filled with confusion. Mr. Raghav sat next to the driver, silent. Occasionally, he turned to look at Priyansh, his eyes both doubtful and hopeful.

Priyansh’s old boarding house was at the end of a damp alley. The rain had not stopped yet. Priyansh opened the door and said:
– “Mom, I’m home. Today I have some more braised meat for you.”

In the dark room, the thin woman lay on her side on the bamboo bed, trying to smile. But when she saw the man behind her son enter, her smile disappeared. Her eyes opened wide, then trembled:
– “You… Raghav?”

Mr. Raghav was stunned, twenty years. The woman was still the same – though haggard and haggard, her eyes still contained something that made him feel uneasy.

– “Asha… is it really you?”

Priyansh looked at the two of them, surprised:
– “Mom and Dad… know each other?”

Asha burst into tears:
– “Priyansh… this is my dad.”

Priyansh was speechless. All sounds seemed to have stopped. He put the lunch box on the ground, looked at Mr. Raghav with a look of both anger and surprise:
– “Dad? You let my mom live like this? You let me go begging for leftovers to feed my mom?”

Mr. Raghav was silent, each word of Priyansh was like a knife cutting into his heart.
– “That day… I didn’t know you were pregnant. I thought you left because you were poor. When I found you again, you had changed your number and moved. I… really didn’t know Priyansh existed.”

Asha choked:
– “You said you didn’t know, but the day you signed the divorce papers, I begged to talk. You just turned your back and handed it over to the lawyer. You chose money over family.”

Mr. Raghav bowed his head. Tears fell on the dirty floor.
– “You were wrong… If I had known Priyansh was here, I wouldn’t have let my child live like this.”

Priyansh clenched his fists, his eyes red. For years, he had only known his mother suffering, not knowing that he had a father living a lavish life out there.

That night, Mr. Raghav sat by the bed, watching Asha tremble, looking at the dilapidated rented room. An unquenchable guilt rose in his heart.
– “From now on, let me take care of you and your child. I won’t let you and your child suffer anymore.”

Priyansh remained silent and went to work as usual. Asha’s health was getting worse, but he understood that hatred would only cause his mother more pain. After the funeral, Mr. Raghav stood quietly at a distance, not daring to approach. Priyansh approached and handed him the mourning scarf:
– “Dad… Mom is gone. But I believe she doesn’t want me to hate you forever.”

Mr. Raghav tremblingly accepted it:
– “Dad doesn’t deserve forgiveness. But if you allow me, I want to start over – even if it’s just as a friend, a teacher, a companion.”

Priyansh nodded. From then on, Mr. Raghav let Priyansh work at the company – not an easy position, but as a normal employee, so that his son could understand the value of labor.

Three years later, Priyansh became a restaurant manager, completely independent. Despite having the surname of a billionaire, he still lived simply, occasionally stopping by the old alley to give rice to homeless people. Because he knew clearly – poverty can take away youth, but it cannot take away personality.

And sometimes, a leftover meal is enough for people to meet again… their own blood relatives.