Short short story

It was 8:25 in the morning. The group of sarkari babus among whom she counted herself sauntered over to their bus at a leisurely pace, expecting Yadavji to wait, in the same servile way that the rest of the country did, to get those minor no-objection certificates issued. They shambled on board and the bus swerved onto the main road, picking up speed along the way, hurried on by an impatient city. As soon as she settled down in her usual seat, she opened her four page morning-entertainment dose. She was immersed in the non-happenings of the happening people in the city when the screech of horns shook her awake. Irritated, she looked up and saw that Yadavji had braked to let an old couple cross the road- a lanky old man coaxing his stout, timid wife across the street, his frail arm held protectively over her shoulder. It moved her, as it must have moved Yadavji, moved him enough to make his coterie of sarkari babus and the world pause for this gesture.


About rashmenon

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6 Responses to Short short story

  1. balchan says:

    This may not come strictly under the genre of 55 fiction would it ? Any way, great work .

  2. Ajith A B says:

    Good one!

  3. Viswanath Reddy says:

    Gud one…….

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