A stranger ‘Uncle’ smiled at me and it brought tears to my eyes.
I like how every elderly seamlessly become an uncle or an aunty in India. Just the other day I was returning from work. I stood at a bus stop, pondering what a beautiful contrast this random bustop of Andheri, Mumbai was. On one side I could see a lush green hill of Mahakali caves, right in front of me. A small foot over bridge coming straight out of the forest and onto the highway, looked like one of those Studio Ghibli charmer, old city features. On the other, there were repair shops; and a lot of dust and dirt blowing in my nose and eyes every time a vehicle passed. If a truck passed my ears had had it too! The bus stop was a single pole with a placard of bus numbers. No safe landing, no shelter. If you bent forward to see which bus was arriving, you could lose your head to a zooming car. There was an old man already waiting there. Short, lean, completely white hair, decently dressed in a light blue shirt, not tucked in. Full sleeves cuffed at the wrist and below khaki pants. He w...