She was an old lady, somewhere in her early seventies. Her back was a bit arched either due to old age or it was merely an illusion caused by the hump on her back. Her left eye seemed to be devoid of an eyeball owing to the duskiness caused by prolonged cataract. Her silver hair was tied loosely in a thin braid. A grey bag hanged from her left shoulder and she was desperately trying to push open the glass door of the café. She tried thrice before a girl helped her with the door.
She entered the café, scanned the surroundings with her right eye & placed her grey bag on an empty table. She stood there for a moment, deep in her own thoughts. Finally she went up to the counter and said something. The waiter looked perplexed & he bent himself over the counter & whispered to which the lady replied–“EK Garam Coffee”. There was something primitive in her tone,