Uttam Singh, sarpanch of his village, surveyed the scene around him. Valley Mall, just across the road from his son Purushottam's suburban apartment, was all shine, steel, polish and colour. Shamla, the sarpanch's wife of fifty years, was struck by the glitter all around. Uttam Singh nodded his approval, casually checking the designer kurtas on display in the shop windows.
The approach of the escalator made Shamla nervous, and she hesitated. A guard came forward to assist. Uttam Singh waved him away. He then made his wife observe another lady boarding the steps, and instructed her on how she should do it herself. Shamla dithered for a while, then finally stepped on and let herself be carried away. Uttam Singh surveyed the lobby again. The crowd was milling. Shopkeepers were talking to customers. Shamla was already halfway to the first floor. Only the guard was watching him. Uttam Singh looked away from him, adjusted his spectacles, looked at his watch, then up, took a deep breath, and placed his foot on the first step. There was a brief stutter, but he recovered quickly. Sarpanch Uttam Singh's first escalator ride was smooth after that. The guard smiled to himself and moved away. AbNQ
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