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das and Grandson A cup of coffee sits unattended at the table to the left of the door. The cup is about three-fourth full but the coffees still hot, smoke still rises from it. Cappuccino perhaps. I am as far away from the door as possible, near the café window. It is evening. I can see the four way crossing from my window. The neon lights, the fast cars, the periodically changing traffic lights. Diagonally opposite my window, on the other side of the road is an incongruous, old and neglected shop. Written on the signboard -- “Das and Grandson”. A couple walks into the café arm in arm. The man is wearing a yellow, two button T-shirt and a pair of loosely fitting jeans. His footwear consists of torn Nike sandals. He is broad shouldered with black hair and an angular face. His teeth are bright.
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