When a 4-year old made me cry!

STRANGE MEETING: Sometimes meeting a stranger can have a healing effect.

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I noticed the woman because of the child. About three or four years of age , the girl wore a pretty frilly frock, and had her thick black hair in two neat plaits -- the kind my mother made me wear when I was young.

Quite in dissonance with her pretty looks, was the expression on her face: her brows were knitted, and she wore a scowl that would have chased away even the best intentioned. The sun was bright, it was hot, and the humidity made the air seem thick and soupy. Enough reason for any one to scowl, I thought to myself.

Her mother wore a pink nylon sari, and carried her on her hip, as she repeatedly tried to hail a taxi. Three attempts got her no luck; the taxis would stop and listen to her, and move slowly away in search of better custom. I was pulling out when, on an impulse, I rolled down the window and asked her where she was going.

"No, it’s okay," she said, "I will manage."

"You might not really find a taxi here; they get very choosy at Dadar station, looking for long distance passengers," I told her, "where are you going, I could help get you to a taxi stand."

"I have to go to KEM hospital," she said. I was on my way to Parel and told her I could drop her nearby. "I only know the way from here," she said.

"I will drop you at the corner of the road that leads to the hospital," I said and opened the door. She smiled, and placing the child on the back seat, got in beside her.