RECIPES FROM LIFE:A SANDWICH

Yet another day of waiting and long queues. I briefly looked at the chiller of a shop at the lounge and stared at the menu on display for breakfast. I collected the bottle of Bisleri and moved out to settle on the bench that was probably there just for me.

I busied myself by calling family and informing them of my schedule (arrival and departure). I was enjoying my Solitary Reaper status till an old lady made herself comfortable near me. My grey hair and thin build attracted her to me as she thought we were the same age and could be great companions. Hence, a conversation struck between us. She divulged the secrets of her aches and medical problems one by one and enquired about mine.

You are a dentist, that too, my daughter's age said the bewildered woman. I got busier with her queries. She was now even more comfortable and asked me to run and buy her a Bisleri. I offered her mine; she refused because of her fast. I towed my luggage back and forth along with her water bottle.

Observing two grey-haired ladies sitting right across from us, a young mother approached us and asked for a favor. She requested us to watch her luggage and children while she fetched some eatables. We willingly obliged. The children refused to cow down and constantly ignored our authority. They triumphantly knocked their air ball and kept me on my toes as I labored hard to keep them safe. I  was relieved to see the mother back after the unanticipated exercise I had performed.

I managed to escape the two generations of ladies to buy a sandwich. I munched my way to one of mayonnaise, cucumber, and carrot, and later to a spicy version with paneer and sauces. 

After a helping hand and no grumbles, I drew an analogy between me and the eatable I held in my hand. Sandwiched between judgment and expectations, for I belong to the Sandwich generation, I murmured to no one but myself.