Traffic jam in Mumbai is like a herd of bulls stuck in mud. The school gate of all the schools international or not international shut as per their schedule. The walking mothers rush, driving mothers rush, mothers with babies onboard rush the older one to rush faster.
We rush in our car. We get stuck in the subway and rush our driver to rush. I was counting my numbers and everything between my numbers now. Our gate was getting shut as we were stuck in a jam because the van driver got stuck, He came in the way of one school bus.
My son eagerly waits and asks one more time if the gate would be shut now. Just then I see a mother coming towards this tangle of cars.. her vehicle is a wheelchair in which her 10-11 year old sits patiently holding his schoolbag. It is noon. The heat and the sun are at their top form. Mother son have to cross the cars crisscrossed blocking everyone's way,
We rush in our car. We get stuck in the subway and rush our driver to rush. I was counting my numbers and everything between my numbers now. Our gate was getting shut as we were stuck in a jam because the van driver got stuck, He came in the way of one school bus.
My son eagerly waits and asks one more time if the gate would be shut now. Just then I see a mother coming towards this tangle of cars.. her vehicle is a wheelchair in which her 10-11 year old sits patiently holding his schoolbag. It is noon. The heat and the sun are at their top form. Mother son have to cross the cars crisscrossed blocking everyone's way,
My eyes are not looking at my wrist anymore. I don't care if our gate shuts. My eyes take their fill..mother's love and dedication. Son's love and dedication too. I look at him as he sits with his hands clutching the bag tightly.. hair combed neatly, shoe laces done so well.
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