A memory from the past

It was one cold December night of our winter vacation in Delhi.The year must have been 2001.
We had just finished a family dinner at Punjabi by Nature in Priya's Vasant Vihar Complex.
And were looking for a 'paan' to conclude the 'eating fiesta.'

As everyone wandered from place to place, looking around, I stood near a Bangles/accessories pavement seller, looking at his wares.

And my eyes just happened to fall on an old lady, sitting on a nearby pavement bench.What particularly caught my attention was her totally sad eyes, and an expression of sheer desolation. She looked absolutely lost and alone. Though it was clear that she came from the upper strata of society.

The very next moment, she turned and looked at me. Our eyes met, and an unspoken communication took place. I willed her into some semblance of awareness of her surroundings.....and she managed a timid smile.

And then, something that has stayed with me -till today, and every now and then still returns to haunt me...

A younger woman, (possibly her daughter in law? )walked up to her and asked loudly- in Punjabi- "Bunty Kidhar Hai? Kidhar hai Bunty?"

And this one looked up, totally confused , for she hadn't even realised- that Bunty wasn't there!
She started stammering," I don't know, he was just here"...desperately looking around....

For she really had no clue.

All the while the younger woman continued her ranting...

Suddenly, a boy of about 6 came running up- straight to the older woman. And hugging her , he said, "Sorry, I had just gone there... for a moment."

The lady was relieved , and in that moment, tears spilled out of her eyes...

And I stood watching- having understood what I had just unwittingly been a mute witness to.

Gross disrespect of an older person. It was obvious that she was now without her partner. And that's why the younger woman had the audacity to treat her this way.

Life took over, and I went on with my family in the next few minutes, but not without turning to look back at her. Still alone, yet, the child was holding on to her hand...

In some of my quiet moments, I often wonder, what happened to her from that day onwards?