By Snigdha Agrawal
However much as one would like to get over and be done with doctor appointments, some days get completely derailed. Never mind the fear lurking in the mind of the outcome of such visits. Perforce one has to sit patiently waiting to be called by the receptionist, clad in a short white coat, bursting with self-importance. And when she announces unapologetically “We are running behind schedule…please come back after lunch,” tempers justifiably hit the ceiling. Having to deal with sore bums and hunger pangs, further compounds the woes.
On such a day, with frayed tempers, we stepped outside in search of an eatery, and located one closest to the hospital, on the sidewalk. Small, with limited indoor and outdoor seating. Serving the usual South Indian fare of crispy golden-brown dosas, idlis, pongal, and vegetarian thali meals. Comfort food for hungry stomachs, most enjoy for its freshness, quick service and pocket-friendly prices. A few four-wheeler taxi drivers, construction workers, hospital staff along with us quickly filled up the space during the lunch break. Placing our order at the counter, we opted for the kerbside sit-outs. Grabbing a vacant table and chair, we made ourselves comfortable enjoying the breeze under the awning of a big banyan tree. An altogether different and humbling experience.
The food arrived in nanoseconds. And we dug into it pronto. The smell of clarified butter preceding it had already activated the salivary glands. While we were at it, in walked Lady Moo, in her shiny black coat, udders full, demanding to have lunch with the rest of us. No one seemed disturbed by her presence or irritated at her persistent calling out for lunch. I confess it was unnerving to have her breathing down my neck, mortally scared of being guillotined with her ivory polished horns, ringed with a marigold garland. Unfounded. She stood unmoving on her ground, polite and gentle, belying her size and appearance.
That she was a regular was evident with the waiter bringing out a steel plate heaped with idlis and vadas, which she polished off in no time. Lifted her tail and took a dump right there in front of a ‘no-class distinction’ audience. Shook her tail a couple of times, as if to say “thank you” to the manager and the waiters. Gently stepping down the kerb, ambled across to the opposite side, unconcerned about holding up the traffic flow in both directions. No one honked to upset Lady Moo, the privileged one who has the right of way in our country, at all times, disregarding any urgencies or emergencies. Not uncommon in a marriage of the urban with the rural, across big cities. Mind calmed, we returned to the hospital to face the ‘wait challenge’.
They say happiness comes in small bytes. This incident sparked a silver line of hope that suddenly made its appearance to lift the spirits that had taken a beating in the hospital. A complete volte-face!
Snigdha Agrawal (nee Banerjee) is a published author of four books and a regular contributor to anthologies published in India and overseas. A septuagenarian, she writes in all genres of poetry, prose, short stories and travelogues.
.
PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles
Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International
Borderless 