Once, there was a little boy who roamed the streets of the city, because he didn’t have a roof over his head. He had no idea what his name was or who his parents were. If he was lucky, someone threw him a stale vada pao or a half-drunk bottle of Coke. But most nights, he went to bed hungry, having been kicked around by irate shopkeepers and their customers when he tried to cadge a biscuit or a samosa off them.

That was until a lady in a swanky car saw him at the traffic signal. She fell for his sweet, innocent face and took him home. He was bathed, fed, dressed in clean clothes and put to bed. The lady — who was very kind-hearted — decided to adopt him. She put him in an excellent school and was pleased to find him a quick learner.

Being cute and sharp, he became everybody’s darling. The cook often surprised him with his favourite gajar halwa, topped with rabri. The maid took him walking to the children’s park every evening to play with other kids. He was chauffeur-driven to birthday parties quite often. His room was full of toys from all over the world. His doting mother called him her Rajkumar. He was like baby Krishna surrounded by besotted gopis.

Soon the boy began to believe he was indeed a royal prince. Before long, he became a spoilt brat given to tantrums at every opportunity. He tantrummed his way to school and back. He wasted delicious food lovingly prepared for him by the cook. He demanded that he be given first preference on swings and see-saws on the public playground. He insisted that his mom read him three bedtime stories every night.

Therefore, he was devastated when she met with an accident and died instantly. He was no longer homeless, but where was all the extra attention that made him feel so special? The cook continued to present delicious meals. But she just placed them on the table and went away, not bothering whether he ate or not. The maid took him out to play, but stood in a corner, chatting with her friends. His grades started falling because there was no one to help him with his homework, as his dad was too busy at work. He went to bed alone, and when he had nightmares, there was no one to rush in and comfort him.

Too late, it registered on him that he’d been a prince only because his mother had made him one. Now he was just the boy who’d been picked off the streets and given a home. Something he learnt he had to be thankful for.

Never take good times for granted. They can disappear as fast as they begin.

Never take good times for granted. They can disappear as fast as they begin.

Journalist, author and animal activist Lakshmi Narayan is a former assistant editor of Femina and former editor of Eve’s Weekly & Flair