On occasion, I deliver a meal from our Govinda's Dining to Subuddhi, a godsister in her 80s, on a three-kilometre walk away. She is not too mobile these days, and but for a young male renter upstairs, she calls herself lonely. Being a perfect sunny day, there was nothing stopping me from carrying rice, veggies, dahl soup, gulabjamin, chappati, and samosa to her home off Christie Street. The walk was pleasant. I had brief encounters on the way.
As I crossed Davenport Ave., a young fellow talking