The lights were covered with swarms of flying insects, leaving the deserted street in semi-darkness. A lonely figure stood at the bus stop. It was John, who did odd jobs in our township.
“Came to buy medicines for mother,” he explained, “and tomorrow is her 60th birthday.” He was in a pathetic condition.
“A token of my gratitude. A silk saree to each employee”, our boss had declared earlier in the day, thrilled at the company’s performance.
As he was alighting, I handed over the saree to John. “Your birthday gift to her.”
“Came to buy medicines for mother,” he explained, “and tomorrow is her 60th birthday.” He was in a pathetic condition.
“A token of my gratitude. A silk saree to each employee”, our boss had declared earlier in the day, thrilled at the company’s performance.
As he was alighting, I handed over the saree to John. “Your birthday gift to her.”
