My mother sold me to a bachelor for ₱10,050. I thought my life was going to be hell. Who would have thought that a truth would blow my mind as soon as I stepped into the bride’s room?

“My mother sold me to an unmarried old man for ₱10,050…”

My name is Anjali, I am only 20 years old. I come from a poor village in the state of Bihar. My father passed away early, and my mother had to work hard to raise three children. But life was hard, debts were mounting, and my mother was almost completely exhausted.

One day, a woman from the village came to my house and told my mother that an unmarried old man in the neighbouring city of Patna was looking for someone to take care of him. If I agreed, he would give my mother ₱10,050 – a small amount to many, but a big amount for my family at the time.

I was stunned. I cried, I couldn’t believe my mother would take such a decision. I felt like I was no different than something for sale. But when I saw my mother’s desperate eyes and trembling hands hiding her tears, I didn’t dare blame her. I just shook my head silently, endless indignation in my mind.

The wedding day passed very quickly. People said that I was lucky to have a support, but my mind was sad. He was several decades older than me, his hair was already gray, his face was full of wrinkles. I thought that from now on my life would sink into hell, becoming the “wife” of a stranger, without love and hope.

On the night of the wedding, I entered the room in a trembling mood. But the room wasn’t as gloomy as I thought. On the table was a vase of fresh flowers, next to it was an old Hindi book on which was written a small paper. He sat by the bedside, his eyes soft, without any greed or reckoning. Seeing me worried, he smiled lightly:

– Don’t be afraid. I didn’t marry to benefit you or to harass you. I just want to give you a house, a name. I have lived a lonely life, now I need someone to support me. Just consider me your father, that’s enough.

I was stunned. Gradually, the fear subsided and was replaced by surprise. He didn’t call me “wife,” he called me “daughter.” That day I found out the truth: He had a daughter, but she had died in an accident many years earlier. Since then, he would keep himself isolated, just quietly doing charity, helping the poor of the area. When he heard about my family’s situation, he couldn’t ignore it. “Buying” me was simply a way to legitimize my right of entry into their home to avoid neighbors’ gossip.

Day by day, I gradually realized that he was very kind to me. They sent me to learn a profession, even hiding money to help my mother raise my siblings. He taught me to read, to live in a human way, not to see life only through my pain.

Three years later, thanks to his help, I completed my nursing college in Patna. I can go to work, take care of myself, and help my mother raise my siblings. He is still with me like a kind father, silently taking care of me.

One afternoon, they gave me a bank passbook with my name on it. They smiled:

From now on, you can freely seek your happiness. I just hope that you will accept me as your father. That’s all.

I burst into tears and hugged them. I never thought that a depressing twist would bring me such a sacred feeling. Life is truly unpredictable: sometimes it may seem like hell, but it opens the door to love.

Now, when I look back, I don’t call it “a mother selling her child,” but a strange sequence of fate. It is because of my mother’s sacrifice and her kindness that I have today – a peaceful day, full of love.

By the time I turned 27, my nursing job at Patna Hospital had stagnated. Thanks to the money I sent home, my mother and siblings were also living better lives. He – whom I still called father – was seventy years old, and his health was deteriorating.

One morning, I got a call from the hospital: He had been taken to the emergency room for having a mild stroke. I ran to the place, my heart was beating. Fortunately, they were out of danger. When he regained consciousness, he took my hand, his voice trembling:

–Palm of the hand hollowed to make a cup… You’ll find a wooden box in the old drawer of the house. After that… Unscrew it.

I was stunned. When he passed away a few months later, I dared to look for the box.

Inside were not only old photographs of him and his late biological daughter, but also land documents and bank accounts worth crores of rupees. I was stunned – he had never told me he had such a huge wealth.

In the box was a letter, written in trembling handwriting:

“Anjali, you are the compensation that fate has sent me. I initially wanted to give this property to my daughter, but now I am giving it to you. Use it to live a good life and help those in need. Don’t let it become a burden, but turn it into light. ”

I had tears in my eyes. I thought he was just a poor, kind old man, but I didn’t expect that he had lived a simple life all his life just to hide his enormous wealth.

But the story didn’t end there.

When I went with the papers for the name change process, a middle-aged woman suddenly came to see me. He claimed that she was his real sister who lives in Mumbai, and insisted that the property should belong to his family.

“You’re just an outsider,” he said sternly. “Only blood relatives have the right to inheritance. ”

I was shocked, hurt and scared. For years, I considered him my biological father, but now he was refused because we were not blood relatives.

The inheritance trial began. Local newspapers reported it, public opinion was gossiping. From going to court to returning home, I was caught in a legal vortex, fatigue weighing heavily on my shoulders. There were times when I felt like giving up everything, just keeping memories.

But then, at the last moment, a proof was presented: his handwritten, notarized will, which clearly read:

“I bequeath all my property to Anjali – my chosen daughter. No one has the right to fight for them. ”

There was silence in the courtroom. I burst into tears. I understood that they had prepared for me long ago, knowing that one day my blood relatives would come to look for me. He wanted to protect me until the end.

When I left the courtroom, I looked up at the sky. I felt like he was still there, smiling lovingly.

A girl who was “sold” for Rs 15,000 now I not only have a house, a love, but also a huge responsibility on my shoulders – the responsibility of living up to her trust and choices.

A lifetime legacy

After the lawsuit, the property officially became mine. The villagers, even distant relatives, were all happy: a girl who had been “sold” for 15,000 rupees had suddenly become a millionaire.

But for me, this joy was incomplete. Every night I couldn’t sleep, hugging the savings account and the letter he left, the pillow wet with tears.

“I’ll leave it up to you… But don’t let it become a burden. These words kept coming to my mind over and over again.

In fact, I could keep that money. I had an old mother and two younger brothers who had to teach and build their future. I also dreamed of having my own house, a small family of my own. If I had kept it, I would have lived comfortably for the rest of my life, without having to struggle for every penny.

But then, every time I walked through his old room, I would see the wooden table where he sat and wrote the donation book, the long list of poor families, orphans, and patients he had quietly helped. I remembered his kind eyes when he taught me:

Anjali, people might forget how much money you have, but they will never forget how you helped them in their toughest time.

I was confused. On one side was a secure future for me and my family, on the other side was the spiritual legacy he left.

On his first death anniversary, I went to the cemetery with my mother and siblings. Placing a wreath of white chrysanthemum flowers on the grave, I suddenly felt that my heart had been cleared. I turned to my mother, my voice trembling:

–Mother… I have decided. I will set up a charity fund in his name – the Suraj Prasad Nidhi.

My mother was stunned, but her eyes were full of tears.

A few months later, the Suraj Prasad Foundation was officially established in Patna, with all his assets used as starting capital. The foundation supports the education of poor children, provides medicines to patients who cannot afford treatment, and sets up small classrooms in rural areas.

On the opening day, I was standing on stage watching hundreds of children clapp, and suddenly I felt relieved. I realized that I had made the right choice.

I still set aside a little bit to take care of my mother and siblings, but most of my possessions turned into lights, just as they wished. And that makes me happier than any house or car.

Now, when someone asks me: “What was the greatest thing they left for you?” – I smile.

No money.

No property.

But the belief that in life, even if it is sold as a commodity, people can still find love, salvation, and a way to do good for the world.