She Never Gave Up

I passed her house every day on my way to the bus stop. She sat in the veranda, always knitting something or the other. Occasionally, she would look up and smile at the people passing by. Sometimes I saw her walking around and climbing the two tiny steps into her home.

I never understood why it took her more than a second to climb those steps. I would walk from the Banyan tree which was almost a 50 feet away from her house, I would stroll ahead of the veranda towards my stop, and stand there looking at her but she would have climbed only one by then. Looking at her I knew that I never wanted to be a frail 80-year old.

I would sit on the bus and stare at her empty life. What was her story? Where was everyone who once lived in that house? Was she always that alone? Was she a robust woman in her youth? Several questions wandered in my head every day when I saw her, yet I never had the courage to go to her and ask.

One day, as I was crossing the same path, she smiled at me and gestured like she wanted to talk. I was scared, but the curious girl in me wanted to go as well.

"You are early today. The bus will come after twenty minutes, honey."

"Yes, aunty. I forgot my watch at home. Guess I will wait."

"You can keep your school bag on the chair and wait here if you want."

"Umm. Ok. Can I help you with something?"

"Oh, aren't you sweet. I am absolutely fine, honey."

"What are you knitting?"

"It is a scarf for my grand-daughter. She is getting married next week. They will all come tomorrow from the U.S. and the festivities will begin."

"That's good to hear. Can I see the scarf?"

When I saw that scarf, I got to know everything I needed to know about the lady. On one corner of this beautiful masterpiece were these words which said much more than she could tell. It said - She never gave up.

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