Turning Point
The cycle was again creaking too loudly, Sawant Singh cursed under his breath and got off it. It wouldn’t do to disturb Shikha, his daughter in law’s siesta otherwise his supper of two rotis and a little dal would again be the casualty. Already this week he had gone without food twice, once for forgetting to buy salt at the local market and then again for having fallen off to sleep after an unusually hard day. So he picked up the bicycle and moved with it slowly to the far wall of the garage. For the umpteenth time he cursed his deceased wife for his ill fortune. Had she not hurried to meet the other Lord and deemed it fit to stay on and serve her earthly master he would not have to face such indignity in this old age. To him it was almost an insult that Lajjo who had never retired for the night without pressing his tired limbs should decide to call it a day while he was still alive and in need of a million small ministrations. He wasn’t as cowed down always, there was a time when not ...