The fate of a man is written in his or her genetic pool. And its predestined. You can't make any change though you never fathom it when you are marching into the journey of life, you think that you are the deft rider holding the reins of your life with the whiff of your confidence and airs of a lord.
Meeta is in her seventies. She is full of zest for life and seeks every opportunity to be in the company of her friends. Her salt and pepper short hair goes well with her plump fat body. Her style of dressing accentuates her care- free demeanour . Her age doesn't hamper her in anyway. She often cracks jokes which generally veer to obscenity, to make her friends laugh , which for a moment unsettles them ,but then they go with the flow. The instinct to deride looks meaningless at such an age. Meeta had lost her husband lately and her only son lived in the U.S . She cultivated a large number of friends and revived the distant family relations. She was awash with money and threw lavish parties. Generally all her friends are retired house wives facing the same empty nest syndrome. They had now ample time to indulge their fancies which the...
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