Mother Knows Best

The dog began regaining consciousness and saw a man standing by the kerb.

"Stupid Dog" he screamed holding his head in despair looking at his damaged car that he banged into a parked two wheeler by the road.

"Puffy" he heard and turned around to see a girl in her teens kneeling beside the injured dog. She looked at the animal and then at the man.

"Are you insane?" he heard, still looking at the girl, he turned around in the direction of the voice and found a woman in her forties standing beside her crumpled two wheeler in disbelief.

He was cornered at both ends and since out of him and the dog, only he could speak, he knew well that he had all the explaining to do.

A while ago, as he had taken the usual right turn that led to the main road adjacent his backyard, he saw a call flashing on his infotainment screen, it was his wife. A bit unusual though to receive her call within 7 minutes of him leaving home for day's work. 

'Perhaps I forgot something at home' he thought as he pressed the call connect button on the steering.
"Hello, as I said, SAM just threw up a big vomit" she sounded worried, "Is it?" He exclaimed as he heard a thud  under the front bonnet, tried to steer to the left and to avoid a crash with an approaching auto, further steered full left and ended up banging the parked 2 wheeler.

The dog seemed to have dashed from nowhere onto the main road post being poked hard by an object in its behind that made it squeal in horror and catapult forward.

The tip of an umbrella had hit the poor animal with good enough force. It belonged to an old gentleman who on his usual morning walk had this habit of using his umbrella as walking stick.

Moments earlier, the octogenarian who felt pleased to smell the fresh morning air, looked around and for a brief moment up to see the clear deep blue sky donning translucent, champagne gold clouds here and there, when something warm, thick and watery landed upon his face, cutting off his vision.

The awful smell of the stuff made him feel sick, but before he could react, his blinded self stumbled and fell face down on the ground jetting away the umbrella like an arrow.

The vomit of SAM hanging his head over the balcony of the 3rd floor flat had rained upon the old man.

Quarter of an hour before, SAM's father who was about to leave for office had enquired from his wife, if their son had taken the morning dose of his vitamin syrup.

"Don't force him to, he will vomit" she had warned.

"Let me handle this ok" he had then replied ●

Crackpot

It was around 7:30 pm on a summer's eve. The local market was bustling with activity. Rickshaws with women and children, men on their two wheelers honking unnecessarily  and on cycles meandering through the crowd.

Carts with vendors yelling to outdo each other as they tried to woo customers to buy their vegetables, melons and mangoes.

Amongst all of this commotion, bending his knees to rest on a bench by a roadside eatery was Tikoo, the central character of our story.

"Aarrghh" he shrieked jumping instantly in air grabbing his bottom.

The wooden bench that he just sat upon had scorched his behind.

"You should have asked before sitting, I had kept this cooker upon that a while ago" said the cook laughing and pointing to the bench and then at the large cooker on his platform that was still steaming hot.

"Who asks before sitting on a bench of a roadside eatery?" Shouted Tikoo still miffed.

"Well! That's what you get when you don't ask" said the cook still laughing as his hairy belly hanging from under his muddy vest pulsated in tandem with his giggling.

Tikoo was a problem child with a God gift of being at the wrong place at just the right time causing chaos wherever he happened to be.

The intensity of rubbing his butt getting leaner, he slowly walked upto the electronic shop where across the show window on tv, a cricket match between India and England was going on.

"That's a huge 6!" exclaimed the commentator as camera traced the ball hit by Srinath go beyond the boundary line.

"Yay!" shouted the audience outside the store raising both hands in utter excitement, so did Tikoo and in doing so, he landed a punch under the chin of Khuddan, the tall puncture shop owner standing just behind him.

As Khuddan grabbed his chin in agony, Tickoo initiated his escape.

"Stop you moron!" He shouted trying to remove his slipper and aim it with all his might at the fleeing boy.

Tikoo judged the projectile, ducked, lost his balance and ended up banging head first into a vegetable vendor's back who was already leaning forward to place a pumpkin into the bag of a female customer. She had been at his cart for some 5 minutes now, finally closing the deal at 2 rupees cheaper after a humongous bargain.

The vegetable seller swept off his feet, fell upon his stomach on the cart squashing a heap of tomatoes and losing his grip on the huge pumpkin which was briefly airborne before landing upon the right cheek of his customer like a professional boxer's punch.

"Bloody hell" she screamed but before she could come to terms with what had just happened the in-flight slipper from Khuddan, landed upon her left cheek like a knockout punch of the tournament.

The fat lady, in her mid fifties, known for her temper and dreaded by local vendors for her hidious bargaining skills and crude vocabulary lay out cold on the street. She had barely caught a glimpse of the culprit before she passed out..

There was a joyous roar amongst the numerous vegetable vendors as if another six had been hit by Srinath, but it was a cheer which no one ofcourse saw or heard since it transpired within them. Their faces though showed a perfectly empty expression of worry as their interiors erupted in celebration.

Knowing the kind of speech that will ooze once this lady got up, Tikoo and more than him, Khuddan were nowhere to be seen.

Having made it to about 500 meters from the spot in no time, Tikoo slowed down huffing and puffing, he stood looking around, all seemed well. Though he did not see the face of his victim, he could find no angry lady charging at him now.

Tickoo became relaxed, this sprint had made his mouth go dry, "Kulfiwalah" he heard someone shout followed by rythemic ringing of bells that every ice lolly seller in the town made.

"Yumm! Just the thing I need" said Tikoo softly.

"Give me 1" he demanded from the vendor.

"10 rupees" vendor informed.

"Yeah, ok, give me" he replied.

"Here you are" both said in succession as the Kulfi and the payment got exchanged.

Licking his kulfi from all around, he started his journey back home.

No sooner had he entered, he had his right ear in his father's grip, "You fool! I have been sitting here hungry, waiting for you to bring chapatis from the eatery, where are they?"

"Aah" Tickoo yelled in pain,"I can explain"

Before he could, someone entered through the main door.

"Oh! You are back from the market, see what your son has done" informed Tickoo's father angrily, "But you don"t look too well"

"I know" said the lady putting down her bag that had a large pumpkin in it, with cheeks that had started to swell, she turned around, closed the main door and.....●

Xenophobia

It was September of 1947, British rule had come to an end, a deep division within Indian territory and its communities lay bare getting uglier by the day due to the partition of subcontinent into two indipendent countries.

People had become barbarians, cutting throats and filling up trains, tracks and pavements with dead bodies as if they had some target to achieve, Muslims, Sikhs and Hindus alike.

Like thousands of frantic migrants on either side trying to flee to safety, Maqbool had boarded Punjab Mail from Delhi to Lahore, knowing well that this route had been marked "wholly insecure" by West Punjab administrstion.

"Will we make it alive?" Asked his wife trembling, her eyes beaming little hope and much fear.

"Perhaps" he mumbled nervously. 

She held her little daughter in her arms, "Listen, nothing should happen to my Zarina I am telling you".

Maqbool knew that safety and wellbeing of the family were his responsibility, that's what the clergy had explicitly asked during their Nikaah. Maqbool had then most willingly accepted this responsibility and thus his marriage was solemnised.

"Nothing will happen, I am here, we must have faith in God" he consoled her, praying deep within for divine protection.

The train packed to the roof and over, started to crawl, gaining momentum as did 3800 pacing hearts on board. Every minute of this journey appeared like a lifetime.

"If we pass through Punjab then we are saved" said a fellow traveller.

"Heard that this very train from Lahore to Delhi was attacked by a mob of 200 armed rioters between Jallo and Wagah last week"

"Story is no different on the other side my brother, did you not hear what happened on the Frontier mail yesterday?"

Maqbool kept overhearing this conversation for a while, then quietly glanced at his wife who too was engrossed in the same act.

All blood seemed to have drained away from her face, her eyes had become lifeless like pebbles and the ends of her lips began to droop.

When fear within is hungry, it sips on energy for starter, eats away logic for main course and consumes confidence for dessert. It burped within her releasing enough pressure that caused cold tears to overflow and roll down her cheeks.

"Shutup!" said Maqbool, "Just shutup, don't you see there are women and children around?" he chided glacing across the compartment with people stuffed together in humidity and smell of sweat.

Before the conversing passengers could react, an uproar from outside turned many pale.

"We have been attacked! A mob is coming" screamed someone from behind as commotion erupted within the coach, howling mothers held their screaming children wishing they could vanish into air and escape from the horror.

"Calm down, don't panic its not an attack, some people travelling in between bogies fell under the train it is told" said someone descending from the roof through the door and into the compartment.

Every millimeter of Maqbool's body seemed to have developed its independent heart beating fast and each one being completely out of his control.

Things having calmed down after a while, conversation in the neighborhood resumed.

"We sold off all our Gold and jewellery to a scrap dealer, got little money we could carry" said someone, "All our wealth, land and approach could not arrange an aeroplane ticket but only this compartment and its dirty floor where we sit"

"There lies my wife on the floor, flies dancing all over her dirt smeared dress, back home she had six maids at her beck & call, not an iota of dust ever sat upon her clothes" said the other

A sudden cry followed by wailing emerged from the far corner of the compartment, an asthematic grandmother had suffocated and passed away, a crowd within the crowded compartment gathered around the dead lady.

"She died praying for us all" announced a weeping relative.

Amongst so many stories of dispair, sorrow and fear, Maqbool and his wife found unexpected consolation, afterall everyone seemed to be sailing in the same boat metaphorically.

Relaxation started to settle in, Maqbool's family felt slumber drizzle upon them as fear too with its belly full now seemed to have fallen asleep.

Three fourth of an hour passed, Maqbool and his wife sleeping with their heads shaking to either side as the train scurried on the track.

A measured spike in noise within the coach began falling upon his eardrums and eventually woke him up, the train had started to slow down and then came to a gradual halt.

Beads of perspiration started to appear on foreheads, not a single sound emanated from any part of this dimly lit coach, there was an eerie 'sweat drop' silence all around until there was some heavy banging on the windows, "Open up quickly" said a couple of loud voices.

Time, minds, people and life froze as certain & painful death loomed just outside the coach doors.

Husbands and wives grasped hands, mothers kissed their children, pressing them hard against themselves. Elders put their hands on the heads of their children and grand children to bless them one last time knowing well that it was all futile.

As voices from outside grew louder, youth within the coach gathered courage, wriggling nearer to the windows, they peeped out.

A squad of Gurkha soldiers stood on the tracks, deployed by administration to ensure safe passage of the refugee train.

Doors of all coaches gradually opened up bringing in much needed fresh air and hope. Eyes and minds could not believe what they were witnessing, it was as if a certain death sentence had been revoked.

Soldiers boarded each of the coaches and some ascended to the rooftop as the train started to move again on its fateful journey that fortunately culminated at Lahore the next day.

Old grandmother's final prayers it seemed had been answered.

A greater battle for survival though had just begun for the 3800 passengers of Punjab Mail who looked all around this unfamiliar station knowing not where to go. ●●●

Twice as much

"O generous man, give the poor and hungry some money, may your business flourish"

The shopkeeper had barely set up his sweet shop for the day when even before the first customer, this begger stood looking with great hope into his eyes.

"You guys turn up right in the morning, don't you realize I have just opened my shop?" He said getting irritated.

"A rupee or two that's all, God will give you twice as much you give me" replied the begger sticking strictly to his pitch.

Shopkeeper laughed at the wit of the begger "Very clever of you to say that, here you go, said the shopkeeper taking out a 5 rupee note from the cash box and handed it over to the begger, "Its a little worn but will be acceptable to anyone. Let me see if I get back the double of this"

The shopkeeper had been trying to put this 5 rupee note in circulation since yesterday without success, none of his customers accepted it due to its bad state.

Begger too, though visibly unhappy still looked closely at the money for a while. 'Taped in the middle and very soiled, may work though' he thought after assessing its condition.

 "Be happy, flourish and grow" he said raising his hands as if to bless but in doing so, lost grip and the note slipped away from his fingers onto the road, flew and diasppeared into the drain.

"You know why you beg for a living?" asked the shopkeeper in a humiliating tone, "That's because you can't handle money"

The begger giggled trying to cover up the faux pa

"Now move on, I have nothing more to give you this morning" chided the shopkeeper.

As begger turned around, he bumped into the sweeper who was busy cleaning the drain.

"Drunk are you?" He retaliated as the beggar moved on.

Sweeper soon found the 5 rupee note, air dried and kept it in his pocket.

'One pouch of tobacco is arranged' he thought.

"Rajnandini" he said placing the new-found note at the pan shop after a while.

"Hmm" the owner who was busy setting up his shop moved his head slightly without looking at his customer or the money as if to allow him to take one pouch of tobacco laden betelnut from the string hanging over the counter.

Sweeper looked at the shop owner to see if he had noticed the condition of the 5 rupee note, since nothing untoward happened, he tore open the pouch and emptied it stright into his mouth and walked away.

"A pack of cigarettes, usual one" said a regular customer halting his motorcycle right in front.

Pan shop owner placed the pack on counter, customer handed over a hundred rupee note, "Return me 20 rupees, not all coins please, difficult to keep"

As he was was about to receive balance amount "PRESS WALEY" shreiked someone like hell in his ears.

"What the....are you crazy, my ears are all whistles" he said staring at the man passing  by with his cloth ironing service cart and in the event involuntarily took and kept two ten rupee notes in his pocket.

He puckered his face to ward off the effect of the sonic boom that just hit him, lit up his cigarette, kick started the bike, turned around and halted in front of the sweet shop, "Chhotu, pack 2 samosas" he demanded signalling the young assistant.

"Here", said chhotu handing over the packet,

"You've put the sauce too right?" asked the motorcyclist, " Yes, 20 rupees" said chhotu in response.

Having given the same notes he received from the pan shop, customer sped away.

"Half a kilo Jalebi and 200 gms curd" said another customer to the shop owner who weighed both items, packed them & handed over the stuff in a polybag.

"Give me back 20" said customer placing money on the counter.

"Here" replied the shopkeeper giving 2 ten rupee notes.

"Well this won't work, change this one please" demanded customer after scrutinizing the notes to which the shopkeeper complied.

"The young guy on the motocycle gave this perhaps" said chhotu pre-empting the situation

"Keep your eyes open when dealing with customers or I will deduct money from your salary" cautioned the shopkeeper looking at the soiled and taped 10 rupee note.

The beggar by now had reached far end of the market, was standing in front of the grocery store raising his palms and pleading, "A rupee or two that's all, God will give you twice as much you give me" ●●●

Trust

Shehla peeped through the kitchen window looking at her husband and his mother in a close conversation.

She stopped moving the spatula and stood motionless focussing, 'Perhaps I can catch a byte of their whisper, the lady is upto something' she thought as her mind spiralled into suspicion.

Her husband Wajid had been discussing hardships at work with his mother and requesting her to pray for him. "Let's keep our voices low, let not Shehla be bothered with my tension, she is already overwhelmed by the care that our new born child requires" he had cautioned mother at the start of their conversation.

Mother noticed from the corner of her eye that daughter in law had stopped stirring food, she could read her body language and make out that Shehla was trying to sneak into their conversation albeit from afar.

'Look how she is trying to spy on us, do I not understand...How dare she!' thought mother.

"Assalamoalaikum baaji" a sudden voice tore into everything that was happening in the house right now.

"O! Come on in, Walekumassalam, Sarwat" said mother noticing the neighbour standing at her door.

"Heard that Wajid and Shehla have come from Bangalore, so came to meet them" said the elderly neighbour placing her hand on Wajid's head, "How is your job going there?" She asked.

"Its all well" he replied.

"Where is your daughter in law?" She enquired turning to his mother again.

"Come Shehla, look who's here to meet you" called mother.

"Assalamoalikum aunty" chirped Shehla landing right in front.

The neighbour touched her chin gently, "Must say your daughter in law is so beautiful"

"O! Do not call her my daughter in law, she is my daughter, isn't it my love?" said mother smiling at Shehla.

"Yes mother, I am fortunate to be that way in this house" she replied.

"What mutual love and trust" said the neighbour as both mother and Shehla looked at each other and grinned. ●●●

Gloat

'Ankit Chhabra is feeling fantastic with Monika Chhabra at Bourgogne & Montana Paris 🥂'
Read his status on the social media platform.

As Jeet scrolled through the numerous pictures posted by Ankit of his ongoing visit to France. He tapped the like button without checking into the complete set of pictures and quickly ran his fingers over the keyboard
"Nice Pictures bro...enjoy 😊" he wrote and posted.

However, as is often the case, reality was different, Jeet felt sadness slowly engulfing his heart. 'Some people are more fortunate' he thought keeping his phone away.

Ankit was working with a leading consultancy firm based in Gurgaon and his wife Monika was a business analyst in a media house, both were doing well in their professional and personal lives.

The trip was a gift by Ankit to his wife on their anniversary.

Jeet on the other hand had not been so fortunate, he had been working with a relatively unknown consumer durable brand on a salary that was barely sufficient to make his ends meet, forcing his wife Sujata to take up a teaching job in a small private school. Their days were often full of anxiety and nights restless.

'Monika too would post pics on her social media handle, how would Sujata feel about this' Jeet thought.

"Breakfast is ready, come Jeet" he heard Sujata call him to the dining table.

Once there, Jeet constantly kept  looking at Sujata's phone that lay near her. "Are you not getting late for school today?"
"Perhaps you should hurry and get ready" he said.

"Oh! I forgot to send a message to the Principal, I would go by 11:30, just need to get some rest, I am not feeling well today" she informed.

"What happened?" Asked Jeet "You did'nt tell me anything"

"Its nothing, don't worry, perhaps exertion, feeling breathless and uneasy since morning" she informed picking up the mobile to key in the message.

Once the message was sent, she began checking the numerous notifications that had cropped up on the status bar.

"I think we should go to the doctor, you talked to me about the same symptoms last week as well" said Jeet

"Will have the antacid, why waste a thousand bucks, I will be fine" she replied swiping off the unwanted notifications, till she stopped and tapped on one.

Jeet sat quietly sipping his tea, waiting for her reaction.

"Monika and Ankit are in France" she exclaimed tapping onto the status that had 26+ mentioned on it indicating the number of pictures to view.

"Hmmm.." replied Jeet in a low hiding tone.

Silence persisted thereafter, both Jeet and Sujata could understand that it would not be appropriate to discuss anything on the uncalled for topic that had cropped up.

This post on social media to garner likes and comments had turned this morning darker for them, it had suddenly, as if placed Jeet beneath a lens under the hot sun, amplifying the heat of his status and scorching him from within.

The show off and unintentional Gloat that comes free with such posts had suddenly forced them to stand before a mirror reflecting their social status.

There were no more words exchanged at the dining table thereafter. Their silence was apt enough to convey their feelings •

Car

"Father! Father! what a lovely car" said the little one pointing at the dazzling brand new hatchback  parked next to their vehicle.
"Yeah sure son, it is beautiful" said father holding him within his palms and putting him down on the ground from the crossbar of his bicycle.

"Why don't we buy one too? Why do we have to use this bicycle?" asked the little one looking straight into the eyes of his clueless father who quickly tethered the bicycle to a tree guard near a car not realising it was partially obstructing the co driver's door.

"Let's go quickly else the gate will be closed" he replied putting the water bottle around his son's neck and the school bag across his shoulders.

They started to walk hurriedly towards the entrance of this missionary school that allowed few seats in every class to the underprivileged.

"Are you blind?" Screamed someone from behind, "Do you have no sense? Remove this cycle from here"
Father turned around, "One minute Sir, I am coming" he replied gently pushing his son inside the gate and hurrying back towards the car.

The little one could see his father handling the situation humbly from across the school fence while the car owner continued to look down upon him in arrogance.

A while later father boarded his cycle, apologized and rode on with a humiliated yet smiling face and moist eyes that so many people were looking at, including his teary eyed son. 

Father soon disappeared into the traffic. 'Good that my son was not there to witness what happened' he thought trying still to contain himself.

'If this is what becomes of people, let us have the cycle only O God, I don't want the car anymore', the little one prayed in his heart wiping his cheeks as he walked slowly towards his classroom •••

Angel

The train reeled slowly onto the platform as the clock showed 2300 hours.
Making their way towards the stairs leading to the footover bridge, Amaan and Seema meandered between passengers and coolies skillfully guiding their strollies, one of which rubbed against someone "Watch it" he said annoyingly. "Sorry" said Amaan before moving on hurriedly.

It was a very cold night of December 2001.
"I am shivering" said Seema as the young couple looked at each other and smiled.

No sooner had the passengers started to descend towards the exit gates, auto and taxi drivers mobbed them,
"Auto? Taxi Sir?"
"Where would you like to go? Some hotel?"

"No, Mall Road, how much?" Asked Amaan.

After a lot of frenzied scrambling and bidding that followed, he zeroed in on one guy, the lowest bidder ofcourse who quickly grabbed their bags, "Come with me, I have a van, its better than an auto in such cold weather" he said walking fast. Having covered some distance Amaan asked the guy where his vehicle was.

"Sir, wait here, I will bring it, they don't allow us to park inside anymore" he put down the bags, " Wait here, I will be back quickly" he gestured moving ahead, took the right ally and vanished.

"Crooked looking guy" said Seema

"Women find every man crooked, what's wrong with him? A poor guy trying to earn his bread" replied Amaan trying to pull her leg.

"Just our 6th sense" she said smiling, "Its so cold here and also very late, hope we reach aunt's home safely" said Seema blowing into her hands.

"Have faith" said Amaan reassuringly, "God watches over us all and there is his protection all around, only we don't see it"

No sooner had he finished the sentence, a sudden voice startled both, "Hello! Why are you standing here?"
They turned around and saw a policeman.

"We are waiting for the taxi" replied Amaan

"Taxi? What taxi? Take the prepaid from the authorised booth right there, do you not see what time it is? Go..."

They looked at each other and then saw the van approaching from some distance, "There it is" said Amaan pointing to the oncoming vehicle.

"Come sir come" said the man jumping out of the driver side as the van stopped right in front, "Let me take these" he quickly grabbed the strollies and placed them in the boot.

"Who's he?" Asked Seema peeping into the van. "That's my brother on the co- driver seat, need to drop him enroute" came the reply from the man. Seema looked at Amaan who was by now in two minds but still unable to make a decision.

Prrrrrrrrrrr...The policeman suddenly blew his whistle as if to warn, "Do you not listen? Take the prepaid" he said getting a little angry, surprising both Amaan and Seema.

"What should we do?" asked Amaan quietly, "I think lets go with what the policeman says, but you would not listen to me" she replied.

The driver turned to the policeman, "Sir, why do you kick my livelihood? Its been a bad day already, I too have children to earn bread for" he said in a pleading tone.

The policeman took a good look at the driver and then peeped inside the van.

"Hmmm...papers? License and registration now!" He said in a commanding tone, "You touts have created much ruckus here already"

The man froze for a moment then suddenly changed his approach, "Sir, sorry" he turned to Amaan, "You please take another taxi from the booth itself, I'll get your lugguage down" he said signalling to his companion, then turning to the policeman he pleaded "Now ok Sir? I am leaving right away".
By now another policeman had come to the spot.

Amaan and Seema started to walk away quickly towards the prepaid taxi booth.

Once the couple had taken a taxi and it started to move out of the premises they could see a crowd gathering around the van. A police car had arrived on scene.

"Glad we are out of this, thank God" said Seema who was a few moments ago, not incorrect in her judgement of the guy who posed as a taxi driver.

A while back, having vanished into the ally, he had met his assailants.
"Tonight will be fun, I have a couple with me, we will have the booty and do away with them, you two take care of him and we'll handle the girl, follow me closely and you! Be with me".

"They are not local it appears, so we will take the usual secluded road. Now get the number plates switched" he instructed them in an evil tone ●

Albert

June 6th 1944, Normandy. Albert Davies sat on the shore helpless and trembling, clinging onto his British Lee-Enfield MK4 rifle as bullets flew all around and landed in water just like the handful of pebbles that his 7 year old son would throw continuously into the pond across his house in Jordanstown, north of Belfast city back in Britain.

"Lass niemanden lebend entkommen" shouted German gunmen firing incessantly from their concrete bunkers that guarded the shore.
More heartwrenching than the bratat of machine guns were the anguished wailes of his fellow soldiers who already had the enemy's burning ammunition stuck in them. They yelled upon death to rid themselves from the immense pain.
The English channel surrounding this beach had become a foaming pool of smelling diluted blood.

"Albert dear, go fearless and come back victorious, go my son, I shall wait to meet you soon" his father's parting words echoed in his ears.
"Move...move! Take cover...go go!!" cried someone from the ranks as shells exploded nearby.
Albert gathered courage, got up quickly and began to run, maintaining a cautious ducking posture.
Zip!! One of the many bullets sprinting past hit him right in the middle of his chest, he felt molten metal flowing down his skin. He had not pulled his trigger even once as yet, 'Is this what I had come for?' he thought before dying and drifted away into the sea never to be seen again.

Prayer

"Bye sweetie, see you tomorrow" said Deepika waving at her colleague as both walked out of the office. She swiped her phone tapping into the app to book a cab. It was late.
'Not many people are around at this time, hope I find a cab back home quickly' she thought as the app notification took longer than usual.
'Dammit' she said getting annoyed. She quickly tried refreshing the app twice however the outcome was no different.
The day had been hectic and she was already exhausted, 'Perhaps, a quick sip at Cafè Democa, I might as well book a cab from in there and carry along the coffee' she thought still trying to check if any cabs were showing.
Chimes sounded as she opened the cafè door, glancing across she realized it was jam packed mostly with men. The place certainly did not offer the best of vibes at this point in time. She decided to walk out with more eyes glued to her now than the number that noticed her come in.
"Care for a coffee" asked one of the three men who were now following her, "We will buy you one" said the other. She paced faster "God! Get me out of this please" she anxiously prayed in her heart.
"Taxi madam....taxi" she heard someone cry from the other side of the street. An elderly man stood waving at her. "Yes...Yes coming" she hurriedly replied. She boarded the taxi "Civil Lines" she said. "I just prayed to God to get me the day's last ride enroute my home, its my wife's birthday today" said the driver as they both looked up in gratitude ●