Janki was to die alone. That was fated. When she slipped and broke her leg one afternoon as it rained and little water pools had formed in her backyard,and the din of the rain had drowned her pleas for help. She had waited,writhing in pain,shouting,and then lay there for a long time,just watching the skies,in pain. When they found her,she was unconscious. Her daughter,too weak to carry her old mother to the government hospital,ran outside,her feet creating chaos in the little perfect pools,sending the waves into anarchy,crying out for help. Neighbours came and they rushed her to the hospital. Jankis fractured leg was bandaged but then she had broken her back,too. So her son was called from where he lived a perfect life with his family,a life of affluence,away from the misery and the responsibilities. A reputed surgeon,he was now being called to save his mother. But lying in her sick bed,Janki wondered if he would come.
