My Gift

My Gift

I surveyed the house I had purchased at the auction a week back. It was a tiny villa that had cost me a nominal amount. I had purchased it as a gift for my daughter. My daughter wore several hats, one being that she was a very good violinist. I never tired of hearing her rendition of the melodious theme song of the blockbuster movie Titanic. The villa I had purchased was of moderate size with a tiny garden in front. This was all I could afford to buy with my meagre savings.

The inside of the villa was modest with two rooms, a hall, a kitchen and two attached bathrooms. Not much from a father, but I knew my little one would be thrilled. I still felt this was not enough. I wondered how I could decorate the house in a way that would please her. The villa was liked by my wife too, and we had purchased it together, but for the umpteenth time, I wondered if this was enough.

I opened the small front gate gently and surveyed the tiny garden. I realised it could do with some sprucing up. There were overgrown weeds that needed pulling out. I walked up the steps and opened the front door. Thankfully other than the garden, the caretakers had made sure the house was well maintained. The hall and the rooms were clean, and so were the curtains that covered the windows. I made my way to the two rooms and the hall and looked them over. They looked pleasing to the eye.

Then I walked to the backside of the villa and faced a small room marked attic. Well, this small room could in no way be called an attic. Attics have never been part of Indian villas and that too such a small one. It was a bit silly to call a room an attic, I reflected. I pushed the door open and switched on the lights. The room was empty except for a small doll on the mantelshelf. The doll was wearing a pink frock and looked lovely. She had brown eyes and wavy black hair. And to top it all the doll was also holding a tiny toy violin.

I picked up the doll and just for a moment wondered if I could keep it. Then I sensed something metallic on my fingers. I realised it was a key. I turned the key fully and placed the doll on the floor. To my sweet surprise, the doll started playing the tiny violin it held and the mellifluous rendition of the theme song of the Titanic floated in the air. This doll, I felt would be the ideal gift for my daughter.

I pulled out my mobile and called the caretakers. I said, ‘Sir, I have found a doll in the attic…’

‘You can keep it sir,’ interrupted the caretaker. ‘It belongs to the previous owners, but they are already in the US. They are not keen on getting it back.’

I put my mobile back in my pocket and rubbed my hands in glee. The villa as a gift was all fine, but nothing could be as valuable as the doll for a gift to my little one.