Footprints

  Sometime in the 1920s    “You’re early today,” said the mother when her ten-year-old daughter walked in. Her daughter is usually cheerful even after a day of hard work, when she sees her mother. Today, however, something was unusual. The mother peered at her child. “What’s the matter?” she asked.  “I saw Christ today Mother,” she answered.  “How did you know it was Him?” she raised an eyebrow.  “I felt him Mother,” she shook her head. Raising her eyes onto her mother, she spoke again, “it was as if our Lord wanted to speak to me when I gave that old man on the street, half of my meal.”  “Agnes!” groaned the mother, “I must applaud your bravery my child, but what have you eaten all day then?”  “A light went into the man and he smiled, Mother.” The girl sat at the feet of her mother. “That man’s smile erased my hunger. It was our Lord smiling through that man; I’m sure of it.” Her mother paused, unsure of how to go on. This wasn't the ...

  “Ma!” I was getting tired of arguing with her. “I don’t want to get involved with this now.” A joke at the family tailor’s boutique earlier that day had turned my afternoon sour. The Aunty had suggested that it was ‘about time’ that I left my parents’ house. Although Ma had responded calmly at the time, she was quiet the entire drive back home and I had braced myself for the storm to come. Sometimes, it even seemed that just like me, my parents were conflicted – about letting me realize my career dreams and worrying about when to make ‘that’ decision. Age ofcourse is just a number, but it doesn’t stop or slow down for anyone. So, when Ma had asked me about my thoughts on that comment made at the boutique, I had told her ‘not to worry’. Unfortunately for me, those three words flipped her switch.  “Why? Do you have someone?” she asked.  I looked at her, hurt. “Really? You think I’m already out of that mess?”  “I just don’t want anything good to slip by, while we ...

   I had heard them the night before on the roof and they were loud, unmistakable cries. I thought I’d pay the munchkins a visit – you know, to be a responsible citizen; also, mostly because I can’t just keep away from kittens. I climbed the metal stairs onto the cemented terrace and all I could think was about how quiet it was. Almost too quiet… call it spidey-sense if you want to, but my gut was telling me NOT to go further . Only, I wasn’t going to let my gut talk me into going back down. Taking guarded steps, I peered around the landing on top of the mini-terrace – nothing. No sudden blasts of color, no sudden movements and definitely no fur-balls.  “Hiss!” I froze. The sound was coming from behind me and I could tell by its intensity that I had hit the jackpot – sort of. I turned to see the origin of the deadly voice and I was five feet apart from the Mama Cat herself. Black coat glistening, lime green eyes burning, crouching in an attacking posture – she was the ep...

O liver   “Attention; Air India Flight 479 to London will begin boarding shortly. Passengers are advised to have your boarding pass and identification ready. The inconvenience is deeply regretted.”  Oliver gritted his teeth. That was the fourth time the exact same announcement was being made at the F2 boarding gate within the last hour. His patience was wearing thin. He’d never been late for a flight before, but this morning was different – he’d been feeling weird. His alarm didn’t go off, his coffee pot broke, his watch stopped working and his 4K Nike running shoes split from its quarter to the vamp! He wasn’t one of those who believed in the signs, but it was certainly too much of a coincidence – and he knew better than to ignore it.  His phone rang and he picked up immediately, “Ma?”  “ Beta ?” his mother’s voice was calming. “ Kahan pohunche ?” (transl.: “Son, where have you reached” in Hindi)  “Reached the airport over an hour ago Ma,” he said,...

  February 2018   She was scrolling through his profile again, clicking on his pictures, zooming in and out, not sure of why she was even doing it. A soft tap on her forehead made her look up from her phone. He pulled the covers off her face, plopped a pillow upright against the headboard and got into bed with her, laying against the pillow while she nestled into him.  “You’re cold,” she said.  “Am I?”  “No, I’m just warmer,” she smiled. He patted the top of her head with his right hand. “I can’t remember the last time you’ve been gone this long!” She was whining.  “I wanted to see what you would do,” he said. “Seems like I missed a lot eh?” he asked. She looked up at him. He was smiling but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.  “You’re disappointed.”  He shrugged his shoulders lightly, “I thought you would wait for me and hear my opinion and then decide.”  She didn’t take her eyes off him, “No, you just didn’t want to be here whe...

  He was smiling awkwardly.  His light blue shirt was now clinging to his slightly overweight torso but his black slender trousers looked comfortably snug.  He had a black bag that seemed heavy but looked light with the way he had it casually over his left shoulder. “Thanks!” she said to the man slightly taller than her.  He made a ‘swipe-left’ with his hand, “You don’t have to.”  “I don’t have to what?” she looked at him.  He looked away, “Pretend to have to talk to me just because of what happened back there.”  Confused, she blinked for a second, “I just wanted to know what made you do something; compared to the rest of the people on this train.”  He looked over at her and looked away again smiling, “My father says we should treat everyone like someone’s son or daughter.”  “Huh.” She raised her eyebrows, “So you’re saying that treating someone’s son involves stomping them on their feet?”  “Oh yes! Especially if you can...

 Running down the stairs – trying not to jump two at a time, she almost cursed under her breath. She was running late by half an hour.  “I’ll be here before 6pm Ma,” she’d said that morning while leaving for college.  “ Ji , aajana, warna tumhe saree pehenke Metro se aana padega!” (transl.: ‘you’d better, else you’ll have to ride the Metro wearing a saree’ in Hindi), her mother had told her and she’d been horrified. The Delhi Metro in the evening was not the best mode of transport to attend a family friend’s wedding reception.  At the queue, she checked her wrist-watch again – 6:35pm. The previous metro had been headed to Central Secretariat; and so was the next one. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she thought, ‘I’ll just change in between.’ She breezed through the security check and entry gates and took the flight of stairs down to the platform. She made it just in time before the doors closed and she let out a gratified sigh. The pianist began playing his tune and she pi...