A 5 MINUTE WALK WITH INDIAN-NESS

I was out on the road on my way to the nearest cluster of shops, which can hardly be called a market, to fetch some items listed by my mom and also to increase my metabolism ‘cause c’mon a girl has to do her thing to stay in shape J

When initially I started out I was quite oblivious to my surroundings since my mind was quite pre-occupied trying to make sense of all the things I had to do for the next few hours but this original train of musings were abruptly broken when suddenly I heard a voice say, “yeah exactly that, he is not into me as I am into him!! And honestly after everything I’ve done to keep ‘us’ afloat he has left no stone unturned to kill every last iota of my feelings that I had for him and seriously if you ask me I’m happy that he did so. Good riddance!” As a reflex action to all this my head turned towards the source of this sound and there they were, 3 girls in their early teens huddled around one scooty talking guy-problems! Why couldn’t they discuss novels or movies or something else for that matter? Why does everything have to revolve around a guy for a girl that age, because I seldom see the same for a guy that age!

I kept walking while contemplating this and reached the shop. Having bought everything I was meant to, I paid in denominations of 100. While I waited for my change, I observed a middle-aged man beside me handing a 500 rupee note for a bill that had come to be Rs.482 and leave without even asking for change. The shopkeeper showed no interest in returning my change hence forcing me to ask for it to which he offered two options instead of the money he was meant to.

1.              Let him keep the balance amount and deduct it from my next transaction from his shop (which never will happen ‘cause he’ll claim not to remember anything of the sort at all!)

2.              Take toffees instead of change.

After much haggling and bickering I got my change back and started my way towards home. After everything that had surpassed me, my mind had abandoned all its dark worries and my senses were wide open. Three ladies dressed in sweats and high-end jogging shoes were walking at turtle’s pace gossiping when suddenly one of them took their leave to visit someone at a nearby residence.

Lady1 (in a conspiratorial tone): Arre pta hai wo to uske ghar jate rehti hai, humesha jab dekho wahi rehti hai pta nahi ghar ka kaam kab karti hai.

Lady2 (whispers back): Pta nhi mujhe toh bda bolti hai ke aaj ghar me itna kaam tha utna kaam tha!

Lady1: Bolne ko toh ajkal log kuch bhi bolte hai, pta hai Reena ki beti ka shadi love marriage tha jabki boli sbko arrange marriage hai.

Lady2: Haan Neetu ne bataya tha par ye nhi pta ke use khabar kaha se mili!

Just then a very old man with a walking stick to aid him came into sight on the other side of the road moving in the opposite direction, as he neared me he cleared his throat in the most horrendous manner and Squat! Spat he; red betel remnants making their presence felt right in the middle of the road.

At this juncture I could take no more and had to deliberately walk fast to overtake them. I had almost reached my destination when I was waylaid by my temptation for golgappas (popularly called puchka/panipuri/waterballs). My stomach rumbled just at the sight of them and I decided not to resist the pleasure. I went and greeted the man who I considered had magic in his hands for concocting such delicious golgappas. He was a kind looking polite-spoken, good natured man with a face that always invited an urge to help him somehow. He stood there in his flimsy shirt serving me those tiny concoctions of heaven while I chomped on and made small-talk with him. Just then a few senior citizens approached and asked him to serve them a few plates and that they’d pay him later as they had forgotten to carry their purses with them (funny thing being all of them were empty handed, what a coincidence!) I watched as the man did as he was bid.

With a plate of dahi chat packed for my mom and a plan to subtly surprise her with it, I was climbing the stairs when my neighbour from below bumped into me. She is a retired professor and always seemed to dote on me. We had been introduced with each other when coincidentally both of us had gone out on the road to get drenched during this year’s first rains, on a whim of course. “Why don’t you come to my place beta? I love interacting with young people you know” and the usual dialogues followed “you look so young and pretty for your qualifications and so mature and intelligent, really god bless you”, I never could decide whether she was genuinely praising me or was it a ploy to get me to give her a visit so that she could size me up for match-making reasons. A girl my age just out of college could never be too cautious you know!

So finally disentangling myself from such suspicious pleasantries I eventually reached home. The door opened and I entered smiling widely and dangling the packet of dahi chat in front of her face all the while. Her gaze followed it momentarily but changed track to scrutinize my other hand carrying the stuff she had asked me to get.

Mom (shrieking): where’s the bread?

Me (sounding calm but panicking inside): What bread?

Mom (her voice raising decibels every second): What are you going to have these eggs with for breakfast, my head?

Me (starting to cave): I think…ah ah I forgot (blinking stupidly), but don’t worry I’ll get them now (recuperating from the shock and saving the situation with lightning speed).

And before she could bite my head off, off I went again down the same road to observe new traits of Indian-ness.

LOVE J

Chalta-hai-attitude and woh-uski-problem-hai

ADITI!