“Oh lord!! I better plug in my headphones”, he thought. With one flick of the finger, “Supermassive Blackhole” blasted through his eardrums. Nonchalantly he walked around the stall examining the mangoes, feeling their texture, acting like a connoisseur.
The Indian summer is kind to none. His sweaty Levis tee was now uncomfortably sticking to his back. But he couldn’t muster enough courage to walk back home. She might throw a cow at him. He was already planning revenge on his siblings for making him the scapegoat today. And Dad!! Unbelievable. The sudden plan to have a haircut was no fluke. He is practically bald.
She crinkled her nose at a perfectly ripe mango and with a sweep of an eyebrow, mouthed an amount she would pay. The vendor’s expression clearly indicated what a ridiculous number it was. As her decibels started hitting higher notes, he flexed his wrists, whistled and aimlessly wandered to the next stall, only to realize that a bunch of women undergarments were now hanging on top of his head.
Quickly he pulled his cap further down and walked back, waiting for the ordeal to end.
The jubilation of her victory was apparent. With a final “I-win-you-lose” glare at the muttering mango stall Bhaiya, she collected her loot.
He tried not to look at her, or even act like they were remotely related.
After all, what’s more embarrassing that accompanying Mum while she bargains the living daylights of grocery stall owners. 🙂
Image – google