The other day I took Anna to the mall for some coffee and social commentary. One thing that’s great about the malls of India is the escalators, which are just like the escalators everywhere else in the world. It’s the people that are different.
A middle aged man and an older woman – his mother - walk up to an escalator. I nudge Anna. I know what’s coming. The little old lady with her wrinkly face, her grey streaked hair and her yellow and green sari is stiff and nervous. Her son holds her arm and patiently beckons her towards the escalator. They hesitate there above the first black step. He times it right, gently pulls her forward and she emits a scream, while her arms jerk. She’s done it. She’s stepped onto the escalator!
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