3 TALES.

SANGITA-
Sangita was a high society girl who mingled a lot with high flying guys who would treat her at fancy restaurants in town. One day she and her motley group went to a pizza joint to fill their half full stomachs, She was wearing a leather mini skirt under an Armani shirt, naturally her oozing sexiness was appreciated all around, by the casual glances at her by each and every one. He was sitting opposite their table and was slowly sipping the freshly brewed coffee while staring at her. It appeared as if he was looking through her. Sangita was very uncomfortable and squirmed in her seat to divert the man's attention. How could an ordinary middle class man have the temerity of staring at her? was the constant thought eroding her empty mind. It was a different matter in the night time, when she used to spread her legs for the Calvin Klein underwear clad friends of the high class. She stared rudely and lashed out the choicest expletives at the man. However, there was no reaction from the man. He was unmoved. She was agitated and rushed to the manager to complain about the still staring man.
When the waiter gave the bill to him, he paid and slowly ambled across the restaurant to the door. He had a smile on his face and a fold able white cane in his hand. He put on his dark glasses on the road.
THE SAD FACED HUNK-
He occupied almost half the dining table at the fancy restaurant, He was of a muscular built and the muscles were ripping out of his body hugging T-shirt. You could see the greenish veins like small sea snakes under his skin in the arms. His appetite matched his looks and the waiters were prompt in attending to him. His stature demanded respect. His arms could strangulate a bull, leave aside ordinary human beings like us. He exuded power and was the centre of attraction in the entire hotel. The girls were secretly dreaming of a date with this hunk. We were naturally jealous of him and constantly compared our frail arms with his and sulked.
I noticed despite all this, his face was sad and hid some bitter memories, a linear scar ran along his face from the ear to the lips, probably a combat scar or so. You could see the sadness in his sallow eyes. As he cleared the bill, he walked slowly across the hotel with two of his never parting friends, who were always by his arms. The crutches were sturdy and never wilted under his heavy body. His glorious days of courage and valour,while fighting for his country were only a small part of his distant faded memory.
THE ODD COUPLE-
They always used to occupy the noisiest table at the restaurant, oblivious of the surrounding cacophony of the road side traffic and the bustling public. The adjoining hotel kitchen with all the clanging of the utensils never detracted from their prized table. They used to sit quietly holding hands, sipping tea and feeding small morsels to each other from their plates. Their silence was a bit of bother for me and I wondered if their love and mutual admiration was so strong so as to survive this acoustic assault. This generation threw a lot of oddities and probably they were one of them.
My curiosity got the better of me and one day, I asked the waiter about the odd couple. He just made a gesture with his hand, first pointing the tongue and later his ear, and waved a signal of nothingness with his hand. I was shocked and moved out of the restaurant, smiling vaguely at the deaf-mute couple.

MOTHER'S DAY GIFT.

She was a frail girl, probably a day old when she was left with a small cloth wrapped around her, at the doorstep of the orphanage. Nobody knew her origin, she had been dumped perhaps, by an unwed reluctant mother. This was common occurrence for the orphanage authorities and they lovingly took the wailing baby under their shelter. They named her Meena, in view of her fish like beautiful eyes.There was no official naming ceremony, nor were any sweets distributed in the neighbourhood. The orphanage was always devoid of funds, the entire city wasted money on bars and other luxuries but always avoided donating for a noble cause like this.
Each and every one shirked this responsibility.
God gives birth and is bound to provide till death, somehow the orphanage used to survive and take care of its unfortunate inhabitants.
Soon, Meena grew up and became a good student,who could stitch clothes for a living and started dreaming of a future. Amol, who had grown up with her became the centre of her attraction. The marriage was conducted in the orphanage with restricted pomp. There was a rare sweet dish in the meals which followed the ceremony. Everyone lapped up their meals heartily.
They branched out, rented a small room and began their blissful married life. He too, was an expert tailor. The lady luck smiled on their lives for the very first time and soon their business flourished. They shifted to a 2 bhk apartment with their chubby son. Their son got the best education and became an engineer. He got a decent job, married and life went on so on and forth.
Many years later, Amol passed away after a protracted battle with cancer, Meena became a sad widow who would frequently cry, remembering her past struggles to conquer life with him. She went into a depressive shell and shut herself from her son's family. Her son could never understand her turmoil as he had been provided, all through his life. He was never deprived. His wife was perpetually annoyed at the sulking mother in law and frequently used to berate her. Meena used to silently endure the harsh words.
Mother's Day was around the corner and Meena's son asked her about the gift for that day, He always used to spend on her this day, Meena with tears in her eyes, asked for her gift.
She was shifted to the old age home as per as her wishes.
She had come alone in this world.
She wanted to leave this world alone.
She always waits at the window on Mother's Day, She cries, looks heavenwards, wondering when would she embrace her unknown unseen mother.