God's Little Ways (330 words)

Amrita remembered her mom telling her when she was a child that God punishes in His own little ways whenever one sins. She never failed to stress that one may not be able easily to relate the punishment to the ethical lapse, but if closely observed, one can see that it invariably follows. 

One day, she came home from school with a long face. She had broken her slate. 

Her mom asked, “What did you do?"

She kept silent for a while and, when prodded, admitted to taking Anupam's eraser without his knowledge.

"Do return it tomorrow and say sorry. I will get an eraser and a new slate,” Mom said

Another incident that occurred in her teens came to her mind. As she was returning home, she fell and had deep scratches on her legs and wrist. When she came crying, mom, as usual, asked her what she did that day. She could not lie when she saw her mom's kindly face and confessed that she copied in the test.

"Remember always that God is watching and would punish if we do wrong. Sometimes it is immediate and, on some occasions, delayed. But every deed, good or bad, returns to its doer, in time.”

Her mom passed away years back, but she never forgot the tiny incidents and her mom’s message.

When the big and expensive chandelier fell suddenly on the ground and broke into hundreds of pieces in the morning, she knew why it happened, even as her mom’s stern face flashed before her mind's eye. She was struck with remorse.

She should not have brought her ex-boyfriend and colleague home for tea last evening when her husband was away on tour.

When her husband came around noon, he commiserated with her on the loss of the chandelier and said,” We will replace it with a better and more sparkling one. Do not worry.”

“No, please. No more chandelier. It could hurt us,” she said

He looked at her in bewilderment, given her aesthetic sense and propensity for flashy decorations.

This is the last story for 2025.Thanks for your continued support.

Happy New Year to you all.

 

A Christmas Boon (674 words)

                                   (If  you like this short story and are inclined, please leave your comment.)

 Ambrose lay reclined on the sofa, with no desire to rise and switch on the lights, even as darkness crept into the room. The television had been turned off after only a few minutes, the novel he had been reading lay forgotten at his side, and the music system stood silent. Ever since his young wife, Sharon, had passed away two years ago, he had lost interest in everything.

Through the window, he could see the bright lights glowing in neighbouring houses, the beautifully decorated Christmas trees, and shining stars hanging outside. Christmas was just a day away. He remembered how Sharon and he would spend hours decorating their tree—carefully placing ribbons, shiny ornaments, and neatly wrapped gifts. The tree still lay stored away in one of the rear rooms, but he had no heart to bring it out.

To escape the stuffiness of the house and the dull headache he was having, Ambrose wandered across the road to the nearby market. As he passed a shop filled with Christmas trees, twinkling lights, ornaments, shiny balls, and a variety of decorations, he noticed a little boy of about eight or nine standing outside, peering intently through the glass. The child moved from one end of the display to the other without taking his eyes off the treasures inside.

“Hey, what are you looking at so intently?” Ambrose asked.

The boy turned eagerly. “I’m looking at all the things inside. Aren’t they beautiful, mister?”

“Yes, they are. Don’t you have a Christmas tree at home? What’s your name?” Ambrose asked kindly.

“No, we don’t have one. We became poor after my dad passed away two years ago. Mom says we can’t afford it. My name is Xavier,” the boy replied softly.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ambrose said, moved. “I have a Christmas tree with all the decorations, but I won’t be using it. I could give it to you.”

Just then, a voice called out from behind. “Xavier, how long are you going to stand there? Come along, we’re heading home.” It was the boy’s mother. She looked about thirty and was strikingly attractive. Ambrose found himself momentarily bewitched.

“Mom, this uncle says he has a Christmas tree all decorated and wants to give it to me. Can I take it?” Xavier pleaded.

 She turned toward Ambrose, whose eyes were already fixed on her. Ambrose, at thirty-four, was a handsome man, and her heart skipped a beat. Still, she said firmly, “Xavier, we shouldn’t accept gifts from strangers. Come here, let’s go.”

Ambrose stepped forward. “We’re strangers only until we become acquainted and turn into friends. I truly won’t be using the tree. Please let Xavier have it. If you agree, I can bring it over in my car. I live just across the road.”

She hesitated, uncertain.

With gentle insistence, Ambrose said, “Xavier, tell me where you live. I’ll bring it over within an hour.”

Soon, the tree stood proudly in their small but neatly kept house, adorned with ornaments and a few carefully tied gifts. Xavier’s eyes sparkled with joy.

Turning to the lady, Ambrose said, “My name is Ambrose. I lost my wife two years ago, that's why I haven’t felt like celebrating. Thanks to Xavier, I’m beginning to feel the Christmas spirit again. You haven’t introduced yourself yet.”

“I’m Sharon,” she replied softly. “I lost my husband in an accident two years ago. I work on a small job to manage. I’m glad to meet such a kind-hearted man. We seem to be sailing in the same boat. I, too, hadn’t felt like celebrating, though Xavier kept insisting. Thanks to you, I can finally feel the Christmas cheer and hope for happier days ahead.”

Ambrose smiled in amazement. “What a coincidence. My wife’s name was also Sharon. You mentioned happier days ahead. Yes, we can make them happy. Please accept me as a friend. I’m no longer a stranger.”

She lowered her eyes shyly, unable to meet his gaze.

On that quiet Christmas Eve, a new love was born. 

  

The Mysterious Killer (1135 words)

 

Siddarth (briefly Siddhu) had nothing with him when he was thrown out of his room except for odd personal things in a worn-out cloth bag. He had not paid the room rent for six months. It was not that he wanted to deceive the landlord, but he had no income when his company folded up one day without notice, rendering him jobless. His immediate concern was to find a place for the night. He had, luckily, a few hundred hidden in his undergarments that would see him through for a few days.

He walked the whole day on the streets of the small town looking for a place to stay. In a few places, they had a room to let out but insisted on a downright advance of a few thousand rupees. As he was losing hope with only the town bus stand as the possible alternative, he saw a To Let board hanging on the gate of an old house. It was virtually on the thinly populated outskirts of the town. He opened the creaking gate to find the front lawn in total neglect, with weeds all over and dead leaves from the overhead trees strewn all over. There was little evidence of habitation. Nevertheless, he went in and pressed the bell. When there was no response, he knocked on the door hard. He peeped through a window to find the interior also unclean, with no evidence of inmates. When he was about to give up and turn back, he heard the sound of the door being opened.

An old man in a long white robe that almost covered his legs appeared. He had a pale face, a long white beard and an age that could not be guessed. His eyes, though sunk deep, seemed sharp of seeing through one’s body, sent shivers to Siddhu. He was not invited inside.

” What do you want, young man’ the old man asked in a squeaky tone that was almost a whisper.
“I saw the to let sign. I need a room immediately,” Siddhu said
“Have a look at the outhouse, but tell me beforehand whether you are single. The place is not available for those who bring girls for the night”

“That is ok. I am single and have no girlfriend, though I don’t see any reason for this condition. Can we see the place?” Siddhu asked

The old man gave him the key to the outhouse. “You go and have a look. It may be dark because of trees hiding the sunlight. You can switch on the light,” He added with a laugh that was scary from his toothless mouth “Remember no girls.”

The outhouse, consisting of a big room, a kitchenette and a toilet, looked as dirty as the main house. It was dark, and he switched on the only light that was not bright. He found a broom in the corner and cleaned the place. The cot had a mattress but no sheets. It didn’t matter to him. He decided to take it, although he was not comfortable with the spooky ambience. Maybe in daytime things may appear different, he thought to himself.

When he went to the main house, the old man was not seen. The door was closed. All lights were switched off. He knocked several times, but there was no response. He was tired from the walk all day long, and his limbs begged him for rest. He went back and hit the bed. He was dead tired and fell asleep soon

Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled, slow and hollow, twelve times.

Siddhu woke with a violent jolt. His throat was dry, his heart hammering as though it had been running before his body had stirred. The darkness in the room felt thicker than before, almost tangible. He lay still, listening. Then he heard it.

A soft rustle from the kitchenette.

He strained his ears. The door was locked. He clearly remembered bolting it. It must be rats, he told himself, though the sound was too measured, too deliberate. Slowly, he sat up.

That was when something brushed past him, cold and weightless. And then—the unmistakable fragrance of fresh jasmine flowers, heavy and suffocating. Panic surged through him. He leapt from the cot and fumbled for the switch. His fingers trembled as he flicked it on. Nothing happened. He tried again. And again. The bulb remained dead, swallowed by darkness.

Suddenly, icy fingers closed around his neck.

Siddhu tried to scream, but no sound escaped his mouth. His lungs burned as the grip tightened. He could feel breath against his ear, soft, almost tender—and the jasmine scent grew overpowering. In his fading consciousness, a whisper drifted through the silence, not cruel but heartbreakingly sad.

“No more lies…” The world went black.

Morning broke with an uneasy stillness.

A small crowd had gathered outside the old house, men and women standing well away from the rusted gate, murmuring among themselves. Two policemen stood near the outhouse. An ambulance was parked close by, its doors open.

A man with a squint leaned toward the listeners and said in a low voice, “This is the second unnatural death in this house. The first one happened six months ago.”

Questions flew at him.

“Was it murder?”

“Who owns the place?”

“Does anyone even live here?”

The man shook his head slowly. “An old man lived here once, with his daughter. The outhouse was rented to a young man she fell in love with. He promised her marriage. Swore he would never betray her.”

He paused, letting the words sink in.

“When she returned early from a trip, she found him with another woman. She took her life within two weeks. She was pregnant. A month later, the young man was found dead in the same outhouse. No injuries. No explanation.”

A shiver passed through the listeners.

“And the old man?” someone asked.

“No one knows,” the squint-eyed man replied. “After his daughter’s death, he was said to have lost his mind. He would ask every young man who came for the room only one thing, whether he had a girlfriend. People say he hated men who lied to women. I haven’t seen him in years.”

One of the policemen emerged from the outhouse, pale and unsettled.

“There’s something strange,” he said quietly. “No sign of struggle. But there are fresh jasmine flowers near the bed. And the bulb… it works perfectly.”

As the crowd slowly dispersed, a faint breeze stirred the weeds in the neglected lawn. For a brief moment, someone thought they saw an old man standing behind the main house window, watching with his eyes sharp, his lips curved into a thin, satisfied smile.

Then the curtain fell.

And the house stood silent once more.

The Envelope on the Table (878 words)

 

Raghav was rummaging through an old box in his home in San Diego. He was to leave for India in a week for his wedding to Anupama. Among the papers and keepsakes, he found the small book of Sri Vishnu Sahasranamam that Raju mama (Uncle) had given him when he was twelve years old. He had always preserved it as a priceless possession.

His mind drifted back to those days in Chennai. The book had been a simple, pocket-sized notebook, costing less than a rupee back then. Raju mama had distributed it freely to all the children in the colony who attended his classes. Every evening at 6 p.m. sharp, they would assemble in mama’s house to recite the slokas. Before long, none of them needed the book anymore, as they had committed the verses to memory.

A strict disciplinarian, mama would get upset if anyone came late, yet every session ended with candies, raisins, or small plantains for the children. Beneath his stern exterior lay a soft heart. He quietly helped many poor children with tuition fees and books, though he never spoke of it. Only his wife would occasionally confide these things to Raghav’s mother. Even though he had a son in a high position up North, he never left Chennai or his simple routines. He was well-versed. in Valmiki’s Ramayanam and could quote profusely and aptly from it. He never talked about himself or his generous acts.

Raghav decided that once he reached Chennai, he would personally invite Raju mama. He had lost touch even when he was in school, after his father was transferred from the city. Life had taken him to Delhi, then IIT, and finally to the US for his MS and doctorate.

 Only a fortnight earlier, he had unexpectedly obtained Raju mama’s email ID from a childhood friend from their Sahasranama group. Unsure if he would be remembered, he had written immediately, narrating one vivid incident, how, on a day of torrential rain, no one had turned up for the recitation except himself, soaked from head to foot. He still remembered mama scolding him for coming in the storm, then fetching a towel to dry gently his hair. The next day, mama had praised his devotion in front of the group.

To his delight, Uncle wrote back saying he remembered both the incident and Raghav’s face. They exchanged a couple of warm emails, and Raghav shared the news of his upcoming wedding. Mama blessed him and said he looked forward to meeting him and receiving the invitation.

Raghav landed in Chennai that morning. His parents had already arrived from Delhi, and many relatives were gathered at home. He wanted to meet Raju mama that very evening, but his parents insisted he accompany them for some shopping.

The next morning, he took the wedding invitation, the gifts he had brought for Uncle, and some sweets, and drove to the old colony he had lived in more than fifteen years earlier. The houses looked almost the same, with only a few additions in front. As the car stopped outside his old block and he stepped out with the packets in hand, he noticed a small crowd gathered near the entrance. Something about the scene felt ominous.

He approached an elderly gentleman and asked, though he already knew, which flat belonged to Raju mama. Noticing the invitation and sweets, the man hesitated, then said gently,

“Don’t you know? Raju passed away last night. It was a massive attack, and he passed away even before any medical aid. May I know who you are?”

Raghav, stunned, replied that he was an old student and resident of the colony. He asked if mami was home.

“Yes, she is inside,” the man said. “Poor mami… she is devastated.”

Raghav returned to the car, left the gifts behind, and went upstairs. Mami was seated near mama’s head. Mama looked much older, but the sharp features he remembered were still there. Raghav went to her, tears streaming down his face.

“Mami, I’m Raghav. Do you remember me? I had told Uncle I would meet him… I should have come yesterday. It’s my misfortune that I missed seeing him.”

She nodded, wiping her eyes.

“Even last evening he was talking about you,” she said. “He wrote something on a piece of paper and left a sealed envelope for you on the table. When I asked what it was, he brushed aside my question and only said I should give it to you. When I told him he could hand it over himself, he didn’t answer. It feels as though he had a premonition.”

Mami wept again as Raghav tried to console her. After a while, she walked to the table and handed him the envelope. He slipped it silently into his pocket.

It was only the next day that he opened it. Inside was a small note and a five-hundred-rupee note.

“Dear Raghav,

My blessings to you. I am afraid I may not be able to attend your wedding. Please accept my best wishes and this small token of my affection. I still remember your young face that evening in the rain. You made me very happy that day….”

Raju mama

 

The Shadows from the Past (1039 words)

The resort was nestled amidst the verdant plantations and the undulating green plains. Their room was overlooking the lush garden with flowers of different hues. It had been drizzling since last night, and the morning sun was not yet visible. Pranesh and Praveena snuggled together on the sofa and were sipping tea. They were married just a week earlier. The ambience was peaceful and ideal for newlyweds on their honeymoon.

Just then, the phone rang. She rose to pick it from the bed. A voice, in almost a whisper, said, “Praveena, don’t be shocked. This is Vijay, your forgotten and ditched lover. It was by chance that Reddy told me of your marriage to some well-heeled bloke and your honeymoon trip. Sorry, I forgot. Hearty congratulations. I wish to meet you and your hubby to greet you in person. I know where you are staying” 

“Hmm………thanks……………,” she could not say anything more with Pranesh watching her. 

“Dear, do not be scared. I will never harm you. You were so generous with your love in the past. I would be an ungrateful wretch to put you in any difficulty. I just need a tiny help to get over some pressing financial problems. I need one lakh rupees immediately. Pity you didn’t have a computer, and you wrote by hand all your passionate and romantic letters. Keep the money ready. I forgot to hand over your letters after you parted from me. I will bring them for sure. I am unable to forget you easily after our intimacy, “Vijay said in a soft voice. 

But she knew the viper had returned to bite her by blackmail. She looked at the sofa and found to her immense relief that Pranesh had gone to bath bathroom. 

“Look here, Vijay. I cannot talk much now. I have no money to give. I beg of you to leave me alone and not harm me’ she pleaded with him 

“Sweetie, I am told he is a rich guy. If you cannot pay, I will talk to him and make an honourable deal for the exchange of letters to the sum I need by tomorrow. How you play your cards is up to you,” he seemed adamant. 

As she was beseeching him with her pleas for mercy, Pranesh came out of the bathroom and asked her,” Who was on the line?” 

“One of my friends. He couldn’t attend our wedding. He wished to greet us in person. I told him we are away on honeymoon,” she replied 

“Ask him to attend the reception on Sunday at the hotel,” he said. Rushing suddenly towards her, he snatched the phone and said, “This is Pranesh, Praveena’s husband. Your name, Sir…. Vijay? Thanks. Please attend without fail the reception at Golden Hall on Sunday. I would be happy to meet you and talk to you. Bye till then,” said Pranesh in a warm tone before disconnecting the line 

“Why do you look so pale and haggard? What is bothering you, Praveena? I think it is a lack of adequate sleep these last few days ‘he teased with a mischievous wink. 

She knew Vijay was wicked only after being tricked by his sweet talk and handsome looks. Within a few months, she decided he was not made for her and broke off the relationship. No doubt she had committed a few indiscretions, and her letters to him were one such. Hr did not let her go easily and pestered her. She did not succumb to his threats. But she dreaded him now that she is married and shuddered at the harm, he could do to her. 

The reception hall was crowded, with guests coming one after another to the couple shaking hands, wishing them well, handing over the gifts, having pictures taken and walking towards the dining hall. It was hot and sweaty despite the AC hall. Praveena saw Vijay at a distance and started trembling. Pranesh, who was holding her hand, saw the change in her and quietly whispered, “Do not worry. The crowd is too much and would soon be over” 

“Congratulations, Praveena and Mr Pranesh.I am Vijay. We spoke the other day. Praveena is a very close friend of mine. I wish her all the best. Kindly accept this small gift, Praveena. I have another gift for you, Pranesh, which I wish to hand over after a small talk with you in private,” Vijay said 

“Thank you, Vijay. We can meet in half an hour. The guests are still pouring in. Meanwhile, you may kindly rest in the adjacent AC room,” Pranesh said. 

He signalled to someone standing nearby and said, “Take join you in 30 minutes” 

Once inside, Vijay saw four more heavily built men in the room. They closed the door as they approached him with a smug smile. Abruptly, one man punched his nose, asking him,” Buddy, don’t you wish to live peacefully? Since when have you taken to blackmailing?” 

When Vijay protested, more blows rained on him from the four men and his clothes were removed, leaving him in his underwear. Someone took the other gift packet and tore it open to find innumerable letters. At the same time, another guy lit the letters with a cigarette lighter to see them burn to ashes. Another guy kicked Vijay in his groin.

“Stay away from the couple if you value your life,” growled one.

It was then that Pranesh entered the room and asked with a feigned concern,” What is all this? Vijay, are you alright? 

Turning to the four men, he spoke sharply, “Can’t you people have taken the letters from him without being rough? Give him back his dress and take him to the dining hall.” 

“Sorry, Vijay. You wanted to say something. Do you still have anything to tell?’ he asked 

When Pranesh went back to the reception hall, Praveena asked, “What did he say to you?” 

“Nothing. I asked him to have his dinner, but he pleaded his inability due to urgent work. I don’t think he will come again. Do not worry,” he said with a smile 

What he did not tell Praveena was that he had overheard every word of their conversation through the parallel line in the bathroom.

 

Yet another unresolved murder (1046 words)

It was 9.30 in the morning. Sunil Pande, the inspector, had just arrived at the police station. His telephone rang, and the call was from Stay Longer Lodge. He got the information that one of the lodgers had been found dead. They wanted to open the door in the presence of the police. He rushed in his jeep along with two constables. He was informed that the room had been occupied by a man in his thirties the day before and that he had asked the reception to wake him up early in the morning so he could go to the market. It appeared that he was a regular visitor, a businessman coming to the city to make purchases for his business, and that each time he came, he procured a woman to spend the night with him. They were trying in vain since morning to wake him till they had someone peep into the room from the ventilator. He was seen lying in bed motionless. There was no one else in the room. 

When they entered the room, they found him dead due to suffocation, presumably with his face smothered by pillows. There were no external injuries. Two empty bottles of liquor were seen with two glasses. Evidently, he must have been drunk and might have been drugged till he was killed. When asked whether he had any visitors in the evening, Sunil was told that a young woman had come around 8 pm. Since it was customary for the guests to bring women for the night, the lodge people were discreet in not noting a note of their movements or addresses. They were not aware when she left. The man who had seen the woman did not remember her well, as she was not a regular visitor. However, a glimpse of her showed she was a tall and well-built woman with a big red bindi on her forehead. 

The inspector asked them all to wait outside and closely examined the body and the room while waiting for the homicide department people. The dead man was only in his undergarments. The woman must have spent the last hours with him before she murdered him and vanished. The man was also well built and could have offered resistance. Obviously, he did not, as he was fully drunk. A close examination of his wrists showed they were held together. A search revealed a crumpled towel in the bathroom. Except for about two hundred rupees and odd bits of paper in his wallet, there was no money in it. It was clearly a murder, but for what reason, he was clueless. It could be a large amount taken from his wallet since he had come for purchases. He found some strands of hair on the bed. He could make out nothing more till his eyes fell accidentally on a small pink button on the floor by the side of the cot. He put it safely, along with hair, in his pocket. 

He made sure the dead man had made no calls through the board or received any. He kept the victim’s mobile with him. He noted the number of the last outgoing call and rang the number from his own mobile. There was a faint hello from a woman. 

He said, “Hello, I need your usual help urgently”, and kept quiet for her response.

“Don’t feel shy. Who are you? Where are you staying? Which lodge? When do you want? Any specific requirement?” she asked

Sunil said, “Not here at my place. I need privacy. I wish to come there. I will leave the town in three hours. I have some spare time.” 

“Have you come here earlier? How did you get my number?” she asked. 

When he said he got it from his friend, she gave her address and said all the girls are sleeping and that she will manage to find one.

Sunil changed into normal clothes and took an auto. It was a red-light area, and he was taken to the madam of the house by a stout, well-built man. She was tall, well-built, and muscular with a large red bindi. 

He said, “I would have preferred to have the woman in my lodge, but since morning, there was a large crowd of people and police there. Somebody had a heart attack or something,” and watched her closely. 

He felt he saw a trace of fear in her eyes, but she maintained her cool. Then she became businesslike and said, “I will call a couple of girls. You can choose anyone.”

He said, “I don’t want anyone else. I want you only.”

She laughed and said, “I left this profession many years ago. I just run the show with a few girls. They are all young. I am in my mid-thirties.” 

He was adamant and said,” No, if I have any, it is only you. Expense is of no consequence. Will pay you whatever you want.” 

She hesitated for a moment and said, “OK. I can spare you just one hour, and from next time onwards, you should not insist on me.” 

“Can I use your toilet? “he asked. As he surveyed, he saw a big washing machine in the corner. He rummaged through it and found a pink blouse with one button missing. He matched the one in his pocket with others and found it was from this that it had fallen.

He revealed his identity and confronted her with strong evidence of the button and her hair. After some theatrics, she confessed that she knew him earlier and that he carried money. She was tempted on the spur of the moment by the huge amount he had in his wallet and killed him as she was in financial straits.

 After her pleadings and long discussions, he spent the next hour with her in the room and left the place a satisfied man. Sunil’s wife got a diamond necklace that she had been longing for in a few days.

The last report heard about the murder was that the police, despite their best efforts, were unable to break the case and that all leads led nowhere. They were still defending, the department was vigorously pursuing the case and hoped to nab the culprit soon.

 

 

Flight to Miami (713 words)

 I took a respite and sat in a chair watching my colleague handle the traffic at the counter. Our gate at the New York airport was as usual, busy with flights leaving every 30 minutes. After the gate is closed for one flight, the boarding work begins for the next flight immediately. I saw an old couple presumably from India as I surmised from the dress of the lady. She must be in her late seventies, and her husband, in a wheelchair, looked past 80. The lady stood in line for every flight at the gate to be asked when her turn came to wait. Maybe they were wait-listed passengers or had the buddy passes that entitled them to accommodation only if seats were available after meeting those who paid for tickets in full.

I could see that they had missed three flights already. Whenever the lady asked something, I saw, my colleague was irritable and even said once, “You have to wait. I do not know how long” She could not follow his accent with the American drawl. I felt both had difficulty in comprehending one another, and my colleague did not exhibit the patience and helpful disposition needed in a front desk job. She lingered, trying to explain, when my colleague said with certain acerbity. "Please move away. Passengers are waiting in line.” 

I could discern the irritation in his voice even from this distance. All eyes were on her. Embarrassed, the lady wiped her eyes with her upper robe and came near her husband in wheel wheelchair. He looked sick.

I decided to do something. I am a very tall black American, unlike my white colleague and when I went near her, she looked so small. I bent low and asked her slowly, word by word ’You seem to have some problem. I would like to help you. Please show me your tickets”

She looked at me, wondering whether to hand over the tickets to me, though I was in an airline uniform with badges and a name on it. Her husband nudged her and told her in a whisper in her dialect to give me the tickets. When I saw the tickets, I found they were bound for Fort Lauderdale, and the tickets were buddy passes entitling them to seats only when available. 

I told both the lady and her husband that I would take charge of the counter soon and that the lady should come along with her husband towards him when signalled.

I went to my colleague and released him for some rest. The next flight to Ft Lauderdale was full, and there were no spare seats. The next flight had only one spare seat. I could see a slight disappointment in the lady’s face when the counter closed after those two flights. I smiled at her and tapped my chest to show that I was there to help her.

The next flight was for Miami. There were two seats available. Others were waiting with buddy passes. I ignored them and called the old couple.” This flight is for Miami. Please ring up your family and ask them to pick you up at Miami. It is not far from Ft Lauderdale. I hope you have a mobile. Give me their number. I will inform them.” They said they have a mobile and would do the needful. I took them inside and spoke to the airhostess to help the old couple, who I said were waiting for more than four hours. She promptly put them in the vacant Business class seats, though theirs were economy.

Before exiting the plane, I turned to look at the lady. She waved her hand with a smile. It left me wondering whether I felt an affinity towards them because their brown colour was closer to my dark complexion than the fair colour of Americans or whether it was a natural concern in me for very senior citizens, or my maternal grandpa’s Kenyan ancestry and his study in India. Be that as it may, I must admit that a thought crossed my mind about what I would have expected of others had it been my mom in a far-off Eastern land.

The counter opened for the next flight for Ft Lauderdale, and I got busy...