As Bahadur pulled the blanket up to his chin, he realised that something was missing. He traced back the events of the day to see what it was.

The tea was fine in the morning. The fruit were cut just right . The papaya was sweet enough and there was no news of rapes, murders or scams in the morning papers.

The electrician who had come to fix the bathroom light wasn’t sloppy or arrogant . Besides he didn’t overcharge. So that was a trouble free transaction.

Gangu had managed to get the vegetable cooked just the way the Captain liked it – crisp and not overdone, mildly spiced and with less oil. And the solitary paratha that made up the rest of the meal was papery thin and soft.

The grandchildren who came by after school were surprisingly subdued, quite unlike their usual rowdy selves . They pretty much kept to themselves and didn’t dart in and out of the room like irritating flies of late summer.

And the rest of the day wound down to a perfect evening. The Colonel managed his forty steps which was all he could manage these days . Bahadur watched his former boss a mere shadow of his former self slowly diminish before his eyes; trying to straighten up as he doffed his cap at the ladies who sat in the garden.

Dinner was uneventful too as he quietly sipped his soup and crunched his buttered toast. Carefully wiping the remains of custard off his lips, the Colonel folded his napkin signifying the end of the day.

Bahadur helped him to his room and went back to his chores while the Colonel watched some television before bed.

It couldn’t have been a more perfect day.

So why did he have that nagging feeling that something was missing ?

Puzzled, he slipped further into his bed when he heard the faint slip slop of slippers outside his door . There was a light knock and the door opened just a crack ” Bahadur come quick . Something has happened .”

Quick as a flash Bahadur was on his feet and ran to the Colonel’s room.

There he was all bundled up, slumped in his chair. His heavy socks were crumpled round his feet , his head wrapped in a frayed muffler and his body swaddled in a worn out shawl. He held out his hands and pulled off the leather motorcycle gloves .

“Bahadur, ” he whimpered . “My hands are cold . What can you do to keep them warm?”

As he rubbed the hands gently and got the circulation back in place, Bahadur realised what was missing : the cantankerous old Colonel had not grumbled even once the whole day!

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I’m linking up with Corinne and Shalini who are hosting #FridayReflections.

Do join in !