The lives people lead.
It is dark, past eight when I hail an auto.
And am shocked to see a child's foot suddenly in front of my face.
On the shelf meant for luggage..."Hey there's a child here!"
"That's my daughter, she travels with me."
The child, Anjali, is almost two. Her mother died when the baby was seven months old.
Since then, that shelf is her creche, day care center, whatever.
No, there is no one else. No one.
The child seems fine, we clap and play a game of sorts, now I see you now I don't.
This is what is.
What was it that I was antsy about?


Waiting at the docs for a routine test.
Waiting in the queue is a girl- child, not more than 22, her head covered with a veil.
An older woman is escorting her.
"Seven months? You don't seem that..."
"The doc was worried too, says the girl frets too much."
"So lucky to be having a baby at the right time."
"That's what I keep telling her.So many women are desperate for a chance.."
"And how many children do you have?"
"Wed at fourteen, twenty years into my marriage, and none.. my younger sister-in-laws often remind me ...."
"And your husband?"
"Mandir or doctor.He refuses to accompany me. After twenty years of being married"
She looks away,trying to hide the moisture in her large eyes.
The lives people lead.

It was a routine paper requirement, but the respect the parent was accorded at the police stn was impressive.