To The Woman In The Tight Blue Jeans

On a Sunday evening in early September, three men were waiting patiently for an elevator at Manipal Hospital.

The patient was, of course, the distinguished looking elderly gent with his chin sunk on his chest, in the wheelchair. The tall, thin bloke behind the chair, was the mandatory hospital attendant. And the tall, not-so-thin bloke off to the side, looking somewhat concerned, was the patient's son.

This last was concerned, because just a week ago, the patient had undergone intensive cardiac surgery. And this day's tests, would determine the date of his release.

He was concerned also about whether the patient had retained his sense of humour.

So there things stood.

Three men, waiting patiently for an elevator at Manipal Hospital. One, a little despondent. One, quite concerned. All, somewhat lost in thought.

Until, the unexpected click-clacking of high heels, filled the corridor. And a pair of rather shapely legs, tightly wrapped in original blue denim, crossed the patient's field of vision.

Slowly, his chin came up. His head lifted. And as the legs swayed by, he watched.

And once you had walked on by, happily unaware of this minor miracle, he turned the other way, looked up at his son, raised an eyebrow and gave a firm nod of approval.

"Ready to go home tomorrow then, Dad?" said the son, with a grin.

"Absolutely," said my father. And grinned right back