AN UNCOMMONLY COMMON VISIT

I went to the hospital with my father today. There was still an hour left for his appointment. So, I went to the waiting zone in the lobby and sat there on a vacant chair. In a leisurely mood I started observing people around me. First, I noticed a little boy who was roaming here and there (perhaps he too was getting bored like me). There was a clumsy woman sitting next to me, and was eating grams. The boy looked at her with eyes full of innocent gluttony.The woman took out a fist full of grams and raised her hand towards the boy, and he gladly took it in his little fist (though half of it, got scattered on the floor). But, he went away happily. Then, a few moments later, a man came in tattered clothes. His face was covered with a handkerchief. He said to me, "Can I keep my things here? Will you take care of them? I'll be back in a few moments." I replied, "Sorry, I'll be leaving in a few moments (I lied)." He said, "I won't be long, please." I shrugged my shoulders in an indecisive manner and he took that as a 'yes', and went away. The man had left a bag and a jacket behind, and my cunning cum alert mind started thinking that he must be a terrorist from al-quida or some such gang, and within a few minutes this bag will explode and I'll be the first one to die on the spot with hundreds of people sitting 'peacefully' in the hospital lobby; people whom I barely know. "Should I run away from here? (the best possible option). But, what about others? They'll die an untold, unwelcomed death (as if rest of the deaths in the world around are foretold and welcomed!). "Should I shout out loud, "bomb, bomb" and make the situation more chaotic outside than it is within myself?" But, I wasn't certain of whether there is actually an explosive or not. Forget it. One day, we all shall die. For some, that day is today, and I'm also counted in it, perhaps. I'm going to be a part of the evening's breaking news. But, how will my family collect my body - in parts! Then suddenly, my focus shifted to another little boy who was having his lunch there, and was staring at me angrily as if I was about to snatch his food (well, I was actually interested in that "aam ka achaar"). He finished eating, drank water from his bottle heartily, and threw the greedily chewed 'guthli' of the achaar in front of me, and looked at me with a triumphant smile. In return, I just streched my eyebrows, pretending the I don't care. Just then, I heard the voice of my father calling, "Prachi, chalo." I stood up to take a leave. Hey, wait a minute! That terrorist's bag and jacket was no longer there. So, he came back, took them, and left without even thanking me. Well, why should he? When did I actually take care of his belongings?