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.