A date with the Grocery Store

I don't know why they stopped having small provision stores and replaced them with large supermarkets. I couldn't wait to race out of those claustrophobic shops, smelling of rice, oil and cardboard boxes, littered with rat shit and cockroaches. Buying necessities was so damn irksome. I remember, at around age 13, I saw sanitary napkins in the glass desk of a local grocer, displayed within lock and key! I announced aloud, "we should buy that," because I thought sanitary napkins meant paper napkins, I simply ignored the word sanitary. It would take me another 2 years to find out what they really were. Yes, I am a lucky one in this respect. But that day I was far from lucky, my Mother, of the traditional breed, looked embarrassed and severely upset, She would disown me that day, if that was even remotely possible. All hell broke loose on me. Those were the days when such faux-pas was even possible. These days the supermarkets are air conditioned and arranged like an art gallery or a museum. I walk into these super stores quite frequently and mostly never feel the need to leave the place unless under duress. 

As I walk in, the first thing that greets me are items I can do without.  for example rice, dal and salt will be hidden at the back of the store but candies, chocolates, sweets, cigarettes are kept in the front. I have never known anyone dying for want of these later items. I have heard of many dying of over consumption of some of these. Truth is I don't need them, but the packaging is awesome. They could become an artist’s muse!! Hair colours come next. I would certainly not need that product, I prefer visiting the parlour if I need any hair colouring. But the glowing smiles of models on the packages are really tempting. No harm looking at the packaging, reading the contents etc. even if I don't need the product, purely academic interest. 

Shampoos and Conditioners takes a whole isle. And still more often than not the product I was looking for is absent. Shower gel and soap take up another aisle and I don't have any idea which one is worth its claim. The price tags can be deceptive. Pricing is mostly for the packaging, not necessarily for the quality of product packed / hidden in the packaging. 

By this time I have come near batteries, cigarettes and condoms. Why they appear together, no one knows. Why are there no iPills? I wonder, like any self-respecting feminist would do. And also some pepper mint for the smokers appear right next to the cigarette packs. I repeat to myself for no particular reason, 'cigarette smoking is injurious to health', and even question why do some people smoke? I am so distracted by now, I have forgotten why I came to the store in the first place. Feminism and shunning substance abuse was not on my list till that moment. 

I still have to drag myself to the unglamourous rice and dal aisle, but first I turn towards the snacks isle. And there they are, fried, salted, tasteful, silent killers. Finally I heave a sigh of relief, I can pick at-least a few of these! And I do. Sweets come next, mouth-watering, delicious, loaded with sugar and completely unnecessary. I pick some again. 

I remember the sanitary napkins, I always pick them up with the first few items, because that way it will get hidden under the other things I stack on the cart. Well they are also stacked on half of an aisle. I pick the one I always buy and leave hastily. Being caught when buying this item is a cardinal sin. In fact sanitary napkins are like Christmas presents, we make everyone believe that they are delivered by Santa (the female version maybe) through the non-existent chimney, right into the back side of our personal wardrobes.

At this point I realise that I must have forgotten something. But before I can think what, the buy one get one on the toilet papers catch my attention and I pick two packs, though I must admit, that the house is already stacked up with them, as if we are preparing for a toilet paper famine. Right next to the toilet papers are the fanciest utensils in china and steel and glass, which I don't need. But no harm looking at them, and they are all on sale. I marvel these fine exhibits with awe and despair for some time, only to remember that I forgot to pick the popcorns at the snacks aisle. I return, to notice on my way that the tapioca chips are back, they were not there last week, I pick two packs of that too.

Before I can reach the rice, I cross another aisle of juices and squashes. The green ones look awesome and then there are those purple, amber and red ones. Yes, you guessed it right, besides the flavour, I pick my squash for their colour too! I pick one and then add a bottle of soda too, to give the squash a punch. The freezer is right there, I take in… the cheese and curd and butter and bread spreads and tofu and paneer and khowa and flavoured yogurt and batters, before I pick one pack of idli-dosa batter and a pack of cheese spread and move to the rice and dal.

It takes me just five minutes to pick these essential items. 5Kg rice, 1 kg each of four varieties of dal, 5 kg aata, a kg each of besan, chura and suji. A kg of sugar and a kg of salt, two litres of oil and a dozen of eg

I walk to the house cleaning products aisle and pick some regular stuff, I seem to be done. But there is a vanity section in the store, I rush to it to fill myself in with all the novelties occupying more floor space than the essentials. I don’t need any of those items, lipstick, nail polish, eyeliner, concealer, compact powder, eye shadow, rouge, mousse, serum, gels, face masks etc etc etc

The sausages and ice-creams are kept in the freezer just on my way out, with sliding glass lids. I marvel them, though ever since I became diet conscious I have not been having any of those. But oh the awe of looking at them.

After another half an hour, I am rescued from the store by a phone call from home. Alpha calling Charlie type call. Mamma come back I am alone, scared and I cannot find the TV remote type emergency. I bill and climb into my car like a Viking returning from a successful raid with her spoils. As I am about to drive, I pull out the grocery list. Uh oh I forgot the onions and the drain declogger! But I spent 2 hours and paid a lofty sum at the store!

Precipice

Arun looked up at the hill just across him, and wondered, what it takes to climb it. Raju had done it just last week, all the way up to the top and had come down, with only a few scratches on his knees. It couldn't be very tough. But Arun, he would never go up to the top of the highest peak in the village, therefore he would never be a man. The village tradition dictated it. He would always be a lesser man, never enough.

Presently Raju was coming towards him. He had been bragging about his climb to Lamba Pahar ever since he came back from his trek. Arun prepared himself to be party to some munificent brag session. "Listen to him and ignore him," He could hear his mother telling him.

"Hey Arun, how are you?" Queried Raju flippantly, not appearing much interested in learning how he fared. Arun just smiled back condescendingly. He had learned this trick, as more and more of his friends conquered Lamba Pahar and he kept falling further and further behind, culturally.

Raju did not wait for the response anyway, he went on, "You know it is not very difficult till you get to the last 100 meters, even you could do it. The last 100 meter though tests your manhood. It is certainly not meant for women, I can vouch for that, I have been there. There are these two rocky pillars, one about a feet taller than the other, there is a wide gap there, between the two towers. And the only way you go across is by jumping. And everyone chickens out just there. That is why Raghav went there three times, before he completed the whole trail. But I had gone there with one and only one aim, do or die. I did it at the very first instance. Didn't give much thought to it, before I knew it, I had gone across."

Arun listened to him intently, he was not ignoring Raju, he was hanging on to every word Raju spoke. He loved to listen to this part. He knew somehow that this was the spot of transformation and he hoped one day he could also transform. But he was not climbing the Lamba Pahar, he reminded himself for the n'th time. He looked up at the sky and smiled. Just a smile with no particular objective.

Latika, the free spirited girl of the village, was presently coming towards them. Raju whistled aloud, Arun cowered with embarrassment, Latika couldn't care less, she shouted at Raju from 100 meters away, "look what the new man of the village is up to. You just wait, I am going to Lamba Pahar very soon and then I will whistle at you."

Raju laughed an audacious, deprecating laugh. "Women are not allowed anywhere near the Lamba Pahar, let alone climb it. You will be burnt alive if you as much as try to touch one stone of that hill. And who do you think will fire you up first?" He was demeaning and suggestive. Dripping arrogance. 

"We'll see," Shouted back Latika, ignoring Raju's leering smile, Arun shyly looked on at her, disappearing in the dusk.

"Look at you, you are all pink and blushing," interjected Raju. "Women are not to be treated with that much importance. You want her to notice you, you whistle at her. She should know who is in charge. I know all about it, I am a man after all." Boasted Raju. Arun now knew it was time to give him a deaf ear. He did so.

Raju continued bloviating another twenty minutes, when they saw Latika coming back, she must have gone to the forest for her evening duty, she was the only girl who refused to go in a group and also the only one to go to the forest instead of the edge of the village, where all the other village women went. Raju whistled again at her, "look who is back so quick, couldn't stay away from me I believe. I have climbed Lamba Pahar, but I would not as much as look at a girl like you, who goes about her business in the jungle. But if you want, I can come with you to the forest, you know what I mean?"

Latika did not speak, she just walked right up to Raju, smiled and crash landed a slap right across Raju's face. Livid, Raju slapped Latika back with such force, she stumbled and fell on the ground, her shoulder hitting a rock. squirming with pain, Latika got back on her feet, a little dazed.

"You coward, you dare to eve tease me! I will teach you a lesson." She pounced at Raju with blood shot eyes.

"I am the man you bitch, I will show you how to behave with a man," Raju screamed and held Latika by her wrist and twisted it back. Latika kicked him between his legs, Raju screeched in pain, "Don't keep reminding everyone that you are a man, or you will get it very often." Latika scorned Raju.

When Raju turned towards Latika again, Arun knew that look. He walked towards her menacingly, held her left leg and dragged her to the ground, once she fell, Raju began tearing off Latika's clothes, holding her mouth shut. 

Arun kept a sickle on the side of the wheel-chair, to protect himself from the wild animals. He was the cowherd on wheels as the village called him. He only wanted to stop Raju. He cared for Latika. He stuck with the sickle on the head, Raju was bleeding.

"You bastard," he turned and shouted at Arun, but those were his last words. Raju was dead.

"I can't let him do that to you," Arun kept repeating. He could still see his mother being held back, her mouth shut with one hand of the assailant, the other digging into her clothes, he could see himself tossed to the corner of the room, bleeding and scared. That was the last he saw his mother alive. He had limped and run to her rescue, but he was too small for the assailant.

Latika was back on her feet and she was holding Arun's hands and assuring him that it was over.

Raju looked up at Latika, her eyes a mix of anger, fear, frustration and just a trace of gratitude, as she looked on at him. For the very first time in his life, Arun was not inhibited by his polio "Does that make me a man?" He asked Latika in a husky voice he couldn't believe was his. 

Men Are Going To Mars To Let Us Sleep

Everyone was rolling in laughter as Sarita shared jokes on everyday life. Her friends believed she could be a great stand-up comedian. In her presence, they naturally got caught in a flurry of satire, comedy and slapsticks, that brought out squeals of laughter. Today the girls were talking about sleepless nights. Thanks to their children's final exams, the stress was taking a toll on them. And Sarita was prodding them with her comic responses.

This was the ladies get together that the neighbourhood women indulged in every month. 15 girls in all, got together, to just laugh their way out of their worries, after their children had gone to school. It was largely enhanced by Sarita's jocularity. Everyone looked forward to it. 

Sarita had been silent for some time. People had distributed into small groups and were sharing stories and jokes, the room was filled with murmur of overlapping conversations. Sarita called everyone's attention by chinking her sherbet glass with a spoon in a very toastmaster attitude. She said, “Girls I am proud to share with you this piece of fantastic news. And this time I am serious.” Her friends became serious too. They did not get to see Sarita serious very often, so they fell silent, some in surprise and some in anticipation. She announced, “Girls, I slept 8 hours non-stop last night, as I have done every day of my life since I was a baby." 

Everyone waited for more, but there was nothing more coming. Sarita sat down and started sipping her sherbet. The hostess embarrassed and confused, cheered for Sarita. More like dousing fire than lighting the flame. And then to everyone's surprise, Sarita stood up again and said, "How many of you believed me? No kidding! Did you really!" 

Now the joke was on them, and they began to laugh! First mildly and then louder and louder. 

“But this is no joke,” someone said. And now people began squealing with laughter, eyes watering. “We don't sleep we are actually the zombie association,” someone quipped.

Sarita had more coming. She waited for the laughter to die down, and then she continued, “You know what I saw when I entered my house the other day? My spirit was sleeping on my bed and that is when I realised for the first time, how I manage to do so much every day.” She could hear murmurs of spirit on bed? What spirit?

“And if you want to know what my spirit was doing away from me,” Sarita answered, “do you really need one to go around doing grocery, washing clothes, picking up laundry, driving children to and fro in crazy traffic? I thought I could do with a little less baggage and I let it go home.” Now people caught the joke…

“I was okay with my spirit sleeping without me,” Sarita caught them in the midst of bursting into a laugh, “till it kicked me off from my bed and said don't you have work to do?” Now some women were already laughing aloud, “So I decided to kill my spirit.” Said Sarita solemnly, “But that fellow is a real survivor.” It asked, “You too? Aren’t there enough number of people killing your spirit already?” Sarita said wistfully, “It saw me confused and it fell back to sleep.” The laughter now was a din.  

“And did you know what my maid told me today?” Now Sarita brought the emotional and highly charged subject of maids into her comedy. People silenced. Sarita Continued, she said, “I want a raise!” I asked, “Why?” She said, “You hardly sleep and you make the house dirty when you are up. Compensate me for that extra work.” I asked, “How?” “She showed me my ice-cream bowl, snack wrappers and liberal smattering of crumbs on the floor, my midnight snacks. She also pointed to the broken vase, which fell in my effort to walk around in the dark, so as not to wake someone up. I reasoned, that if I can do without spirit, I can do without light too!” Squeals were drowning Sarita’s voice, so she took a break to have some snack, while others urged her to go on.

“The other day I heard Narendra Modi, our honourable Prime Minister, in a speech,” she continued, “he said, he doesn’t sleep too long.” I looked at my snoring husband and said Lier! Anyway he is the prime minister. He better get less sleep, else who is going to permit surgical strikes if he sleeps. But who am I! No Prime Minister, no celebrity or no tycoon. Why am I up?” Sarita ended with a wide eyed, innocent, questioning gesture. The laughter now getting even more boisterous.

“You know what my husband said the other day?” Sarita was at her next quip. One on her husband was unavoidable. He said, “Buy yourself a lullaby track maybe that will make you sleep. I don't understand why you keep getting up in the night?” I said to him, “No wonder you can’t hear the alarm at 7 in the morning. Have you ever heard the kids? They cry in the night sometimes.” He asked, “really?” so nonchalantly as if it was an epiphany. I took the chance to ask him, does he have a volume shut button in his ear? And he looked at me incredulously, as if I am from Venus and He is from Mars. People were now gasping for breath with laughter, their jaws aching, but there was no stopping Sarita.

“And that is the whole problem, Venus and Mars.” Sarita said alluding to a book which claims that ‘Women are from Venus and Men are from Mars’. “The bloody sun is so hot at Venus, why did they have to get us from Venus?” She paused, “Someone, I think that crack, Elon Musk, is taking all men back to Mars! At this point her audience howled in laughter. “What should we women do?” Sarita kept a straight face as she continued. “We have no one taking us to Venus. The last one who tried was, well nobody! Nobody ever tried going to Venus and that is how it will be.”

“I think there is an international conspiracy by men, we women are not aware of.” Sarita spoke in a whispering tone. “Did you notice how hot the Earth is becoming? Those men kept saying it’s a man’s world and made it hot like Venus! Men can't take it anymore, so they will just leave the planet, so we can save it from further destruction.” The haw-Haw was uncontrollable.

“Have you seen how many men are storing their semen in the freezer?” Sarita said conspiratorially. She had to stop, for laughter to die down.  “We will have no problem when they are gone! I don't know what those guys will do! Maybe take the robot Sophia with them.” Another uproarious laughter took over.

“Anyway. Who cares what they will do. Think of what we will do with the time.” Sarita said in a meaningful tone. “We will finally get to know what this 8 hour sleep is, which they keep talking about.” The women were now, not just squealing with laughter, they were crying with laughter! It was lunch time and the group had had a great time. But they all wondered will they ever get that sleep?