I stepped down the ball-girls place quickly and swathed my face with a dusty brown scarf. Running my eyes across I slinked past the market by making swift strides. On reaching home I removed the scarf and knocked on the door.
But the door came unstuck abruptly as it was already open. The voice coming from inside was rising to a crescendo. Suddenly the maid leaped up into the view, her face smeared with red tomatoes and mango juice. She ran slap bang into me.
” Salah Bihari Mango!” Bhindi who was culling the harvest rumbled. I suppose he had figured it all out so made an effort to lend the maid a good kick up in the arse. I couldn’t think straight and lickety-split called a number. Well, they didn’t wish to ride me.
(after an hour)
I killed the last bottle of whisky and scrambled to my feet. There were a lot of quarrels going on around and the ride wasn’t fun even. Ugh! I gathered my wits and had a dip into my list of dos as there were no don’ts therein. (Bi)cycle, Eggs, Milk, Bananas, Mangoes, Dogs, Cats. The list was tickety-boo. Cool!
I had collected all the items due to my unremitting poverty. But my empty pockets hardly came to the fullness. The wads weren’t fat enough to bear on the propriety of quarrel to say nothing of slap bangs. Steered by the law of attraction I chanted it day and night. At the same time, I stood guard over the hand pump all the time where at the moment crows were feasting upon the piles of mango stones, skins, saggy bananas, leftover vegetables, rice-chapatis, and so on. In my own courtyard. It was so humbling!
Mumbo, our buffalo had finished her chocolates and sweets by then that I hoped my guests should have carried to my doorstep. In fifteen-sixteen years, I might have a room full of chocolates… I tee-heed and continued with other weblogs. Something hither and thither. I had done a lot of research in these neighborhoods. I went on with the next day’s adventure. Bantu and Ghambu Bhaiya…