Thursday, January 19, 2012

POOR WILL REMAIN POOR!


I love having Jalebis on Thursday. Is this day so special or any star matching stuff with eating Jalebis? Nope. The old men who are my good friends in the park always suggest me to have sweets at times because it’s good for health. Well, most of them are the patients of sugar or heart disease but they love youngsters to advice to have sweets. Love for food is the purest love in the world.

Pressing the horn of my bike continuously, plowing the mob and the vegetable vendors, I drove straight and pressed the brakes at the Jalebi stroll where one of my friends was waiting. I turned the key left to switch off the engine and made the bike stand on its stand. Mouth watered. :P I signaled the Jalebi vendor to take out some fresh and hot ones. He knows me. Why would he not? After all I’m one of the rare young guys who go to have Jalebi every Thursday.

The Thursday market is a sabzi market where the sabzi vendors gather to sell their fresh, cleaned, oiled and extra shining vegetables. Most of the buyers are ladies, whose sizes are more than that of normal Indian woman. Extra flesh hung around their each part of body. Still, they look beautiful! The extra dark lipstic, the combed hair, the open hairstyles, the outfits, the fair complexion, the matching round eyes, the mascara and the urban dressing sense make them damn beautiful. The vendors shout as if they are competing with each other in raising their voice levels. The buyers (beautiful ladies) loved to bargain despite knowing that the vendors were not going to reduce even a single buck and were going to weigh lesser than what he was supposed to.

Among all the chaos our Jalebis came out of the boiling oil, then got dipped into the hot sugar juice and after getting weighed the vendor handed it over to my friend. After bargaining, both of us took out wallet and paid half-half. I paid 8 bucks and my friend paid 7. I couldn’t have eaten the sweet Jalebis while riding the bike. So we chose to take a short walk to finish the sweets. Some stud guys rushed their bikes in the middle of the road to impress the young beautiful girls. Some fools tried to impress them with their cars, which created traffic jams which in turn raised inconvenience to the buyers and sellers. Within five minutes Jalebis got finished and both of us cleaned out sticky fingers with the paper envelope in which we got our Jalebis wrapped.

After dropping my friend, I moved bike back into the market. I kept my eyes wide opened and left thumb on the horn. Suddenly, my eyes felt on a heap of jackets, above which two boys were standing and were shouting 50 ka ek and 100 k 2. It impressed me. I stood my bike aside and walked to see what kind of jackets were there whose price was lesser than a handkerchief which is shopped in the malls. I looked at the buyers who were standing around the heap. They looked back at me. I joined them and started looking for the jackets as if I was a smart buyer and was going to take one or two after scanning each piece nicely.

One old man held one jacket and asked the price. The boys were continuously shouting the price loudly but still the gentleman seemed deaf. One of the boys repeated his price slogan. ‘I’d pay 30 bucks only,’ the old man said in a smart tone, as if he knew the real price of the jacket and was going to be in a great loss if he was paying the slogan price. ‘Uncleji, price is fixed,’ the boy, whose age was around 15 years, said. ‘Okay, then keep your jacket,’ the old man said, throwing the cloth on the top of the heap. I knew what was going to be happened. The boy called the old man when he was walking away fast. ‘Here it is,’ the boy said, packing the jacket in a polybag. The jacket was sold. In 30 bucks.

Something like this doesn’t happen in the malls. When you enter into it through the transparent glass entrance, the security guards scan your bodies and bags with metal detectors. Then you enter into a western world, where the price of everything is fixed. A single cup of coffee costs more than twice the price of the old man’s jacket. People go there for shopping and they don’t even talk of bargaining there.

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