My weekend was somewhat grand- since my Employer was out of town for some of his personal work, which meant that it was a perfect time for me to unwind without any phone- calls or follow- ups. No, I didn’t need to fill in for his absence.
Only that- I was a little short of it. On Friday, first the car- driver put my blood to boil, and then, my domestic curdled it real thick. And, that was not the end of it, the driver further managed to make a lassi out of whatever was left (churned yoghurt). Just when I had thought that I was beginning to enjoy, the two menials cast their curse on me. I am not prejudiced; infact, I treat them equally and probably that’s what made them to take chances. Lesson learnt- for all times to come with them and with all.
My domestic becomes really rude at times, to the extent of becoming insolent. Maybe, I need to stop treating her like a family member and constantly remind her of her status to keep her in her right senses. Not primarily her fault, that’s how she has learnt things; only she should have realized the shortcomings, and adapted to the change-with-time system. Nevermind, not my Life; why bother then? The driver was supposed to come at 4.30pm; went absconding for good 2 hours and then appeared at 6.30pm. He didn’t answer my phone- calls either. That’s how the Haryana Local- ites are; anyone in Delhi and Gurgaon but not a local- ite would know what I mean. They have a very shortsighted vision; they don’t look beyond their own level of comfort.
At 6.30, on my way to SN after 2 hours of my originally decided time to start, I dropped my maid at her house (even after being dreadfully pissed), and put the Sony walkman on my crown. The 1st song itself took my anger off- only for its RE- RETURN after a while; it played “Soniye” from “Aksar”. That also reminded me of how long it had been since I had heard that last. I sat smiling like a fool (that I so am). I bought a few Mango toffees remembering my friend Renu Arora in Greenfields. I lost touch since she had moved to Jalandhar after a year of our friendship, and we had shifted from that place after yet another year.
We were in different sections in standard 6th. She was fair, sweet looking and a very well mannered girl. She would address me as “AAP”, and not “Tu” as we usually do it among friends- a trend I have hated since then; so did I. She once said that I may not be dependent on my parents for a very long period; infact I would never be dependent on my father. How she prophesied that is a mystery to me, she looked at some lines on my palm. She had also said that Himanshu may not be a permanent feature.. The next few months unfolded themselves exactly in the way she had forecasted. She had shifted base by then; I could never tell her how thankful I have been; since, she had prepared me before handed for two very ugly and perhaps never expected mis- incidents.
I did get to spend some memorable time with her (read: another post). We usually acted upon that Pan-Pasand advertisement and even improvised our own ideas, and when one of us would pretend annoyed, we would give Pan-Pasand. The other lozenge that we loved was Mango Bite- I told her she looked like a mango- no puns intended, guys. My memory did a backtrack walk, and kind of let me forget the sulken status.
I reached Sarojini Nagar at around 7- ish, two hours later than I had originally wanted to. Headed straight to the factory surplus or seconds market inside; I had to buy a few knitted frocks (A- line tunics) and long t- shirts. It’s been a few years now that I have been wearing them- very comfortable one piece to wear- with mostly kid-dish designs, and baby colors. I like to wear these and it’s as simple. I have always been known to be different and walk off-track from the beaten path. I stay alone- have all the liberty to dress- up whichever way I like to; anyways, I am not good at taking dictates, so please, save them.
No sooner I had entered the market, I could see the hawkers spitting around in their glory. The others- tried to ogle and enumerate every girl that passed by them, no matter what they wore or their ages were. I had dressed up in a t-shirt and peddle pushers with shoes, very casually i.e., intentionally. I was happy to notice that there were many more girls in shorts moving around; this market wasn’t this way till sometime back. Nice change..
I picked up a few frocks and T-shirts in as many colors as appealed to me. I bought my 1st jungle/military print; so what if it’s a knitted frock? I picked up a few long T-shirts too. As I went to pick up a few shorts- in oh so nice colors, one came flung across me; how callous and intentional was the stocker, to have thrown it on the pretext of having made a mistake. I moved to the other shop and bought a few; so what if couldn’t get any colors other than black and grey?
Infact, it was nice and not at all warm or sweaty to be moving in May evening in such a stampede market. I thanked my stars or God (whoever was responsible) for that storming that had been on since previous evening. It had then lasted for close to 2 days..!! Temperature had definitely come down. I had come with a blastedly sulking mood. I picked up a few mugs- as if I don’t have enough of them already..!! I had picked up quite a few of those carry- bags that I went back and passed those to the driver to keep them in the car. I was beginning to enjoy, finally.. Went back to the market from the other side, and picked up a few more things that my maid had wanted to for herself. Some kurtis (tunics) and tops and a rolling pin; if only she had behaved or not in the manner that she did- I would have picked up a few more articles for her. As I went back to unload the heavy Rolling board, bigger in size than what I have, the driver announced that he had broken few of the mugs. @!#$#%$%, how clumsy. I had walked the entire market with so many things in my hand; here he was, to equate my energies in just one careless act.
Sarojini Nagar is a nice place if you would want to buy a few things for regular use.. Table covers, kitchen articles, mats- the fancy ones with glitters (:)). Bamboo shoots, Plastic Flowers, really cool outfits, upholstery, handicrafts; you name it, and you get them. This market is so much in contrast to Lajpat Nagar, which slants more towards being on expensive side. Paul Studios here, is what Prem Studios is in North Delhi. This market has some of the best shoe shops in the same line. The only one thing that it lacks is a little civic sense and a decent eating joint. I ate Pav Bhaji at “Khatta Meetha” and got some “Masala Chana” packed. A Bong family noisily chomped on their Masala Dosa; how predictable was their choice of order. The young boy chattered in Hindi which was heavy on MTI (mother tongue influence) and hence, was undecipherable. He had ordered for Burger; how typical of those upstarts. The boy’s mother (since the features matched) could just not chew with her lips intact, her mouth kept open with her teeth and tongue showing every activity that her mouth did with the food… argghhh
After that light refreshment, I again trotted back to the market and bought a look- alike of the broken mug. The hawkers screamed to get my attention to their shop, passersby in their regional dialect chatted away in glory. Refined crowd is not the usual picture, very rustic and to an extent un- mannerly are the visitors here, often. Probably, they take it for their balcony to sit spread and gossip for the entire evening. The Bongs were the loudest with their mannerisms- either that’s how they are, or maybe the cultured ones don’t shout, I could not collect data to reach any conclusion. Maybe, I should have gone to Malls and spent in 5 figures slanting more towards six; instead of 4 figures that remained sat more towards the 1st half. Apparently, girls seem to have picked up the right trend now- light base fabric with multi-colored flowers. What a relief to my eyes. Woman of all ages and size came draped in different outfits with described print. A few of my known ones, would often tell me that how I shouldn’t be wearing flowery at all, and, stick to bolds or better still- beiges and browns. I had never told them that how washed out they looked wearing the vegetable dyed cotton kurtas with block print motifs without precise outlining; as if the old bed sheet was stitched since, it would have become soft after use and so many washes.
Started at about 9ish and reached home just in time to wash and watch Uttaran.
Was very tired and contented..
And not sulking.