People

Waudby Road CST signal this morning. The shiny scrubbed children in school uniform flow past, all bright hopeful faces, heavy

These are the men who come to my door almost every day. They call me Madam, Bhabhi, Didi. Most smile

Sitting tucked away in a corner of a sunny, bright waiting room. I try to be unobtrusive because I don’t have a visitor’s pass. I have my embroidery in hand but my thoughts are elsewhere.
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I ordered fruit today. Like I do two or three times a week. My fruit vendor Suresh bhai always greets

I stare at the young man in the back of that tempo. Traffic is crawling. Every time it lurches forward, I wait for a sack of potatoes to fall and hold my breath..

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You can tell these are gently brought up girls, innocent almost. But there is such a backbone of steel running through them. A determination to make good their life. Even when hurting, careless patients and families often and unfairly reprimand, blame or admonish, those sweet smiles, the cheerful greetings to us hardly ever waver.
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