Lucrative festivity

Lucrative festivity

I think it was a few afternoons back since there had been a definitive change in the tide; basically, it was not too blinkingly hot anymore, and I felt hopeful that in a few short days, one could, quite comfortably so, during early mornings, sit out on the terrace which would in tandem with you, be welcoming a kind nip in the air. Yes, it’s been outrageously hot this time round, but then to be truthful, we always whine about the 8-month long summer here being more unsparing than usual. Yes, it’s always worse than last year! Yup, such is human nature—complaining all year, a constant! Yes, but must mention that this weather talk has made me lose the thread, so I restart—a few afternoons back, I received a most interesting clip via WhatsApp. Its authenticity wasn’t in doubt, since it was sent by a Professor friend, who wouldn’t spread such news without verifying its veracity. We all know that it’s not possible, for varied reasons—the primary one being ready finances—for even one with business acumen and entrepreneurship qualities to set up shop without seed money etc. and etc. Yet, there are roundabout ways of peddling one’s wares while being stationed at the same spot, like a shopkeeper with his Paytm quite in place and perhaps, even the good old cash register for those who still feel better with cash in hand…So here we have a trader (with would-be tycoon dreams, you’d believe!) who with the change in weather readily recognizing that footwear too would be replaced. Out airy sandals, chappals, and In, laced shoes or slip-on Italian fakes, and with next month setting in, feet snuggly with socks to be fitted into boots, to keep one’s paws from a freeze. Yes, being bed-bound with a cold, on account of ice-cold feet, a regular phenomenon, but seems to be getting the required attention, quite recently! So, this shoe-seller sets up shop with all sorts of shoes, in varied sizes and colours atop a couple of cars. Distinctive ingenuity, indeed! Now a few questions that pop up: doubtful that the vehicles are his own, since presumably of course, he’s a struggling salesman. So he, you’d rightly guess, strikes up a deal with the car owners, who have their transport parked at, more or less, designated spaces near the office area. (This, discerned when you zoom the picture on your phone for better clarity!) Now, who would not want to earn some extra money on the side, especially when it entails no sweat?! The police have to be turning a blind eye or rather possess the distinctive quality of looking the other way when things aren’t, according to the diktats of law, considered right. Needn’t have to touch on it but, but obviously the policewallahs palms are generously greased and a well-oiled machine takes one far. Simply put, this shoewallah seems to be pleasing four groups—himself, the two already stated above, and shoe buyers who find this kind of shopping adding a lot more colour to the outing. Yes, there are fold-up chairs positioned near the cars for buyers to sit while trying on the pair. It’s rather inconvenient to shoe-horn oneself into loafers or moccasins in standing position, right?! Here, I think, the merchant deserves a standing ovation. This is what enterprisers are made of! Speaking of, left-field, off-centre, businesses seem to be breaking the surface. Rewind to nine days back, last Saturday, when most of the fair gender was on a Karvachauth binge. Funny way of putting it, since it’s a day when, most of us, observe a fast, going without even a drop of water to assuage that parched throat till the Moon decides to make a late appearance. On that evening I was at the Defence Colony market running the usual errands, and lamenting to myself about life having become about permanent exhaustion and topsy-turvyness (in my defence, must have you note that we all, once in a while, are entitled to bouts of self-pity!) when I caught this outright bewitching sight. Again, one marvels at the breaking new ground enterpriser. If you walk down this market, just a few steps away from Sagar, yes, the famous ever jam-packed restaurant, where the dahi vada, not to sound clichétic, but actually melts in your mouth, and where the air is aromatic with south Indian filter coffee which, predictably so, would get us off track, and so back to this enchanting sight, a stone’s throw from Sagar. The regular mehndiwallah, Damodar—his name is pasted on a poster on one of the walls permitted, unquestionably so, for a monthly rent by the Lala whose wall-space, this burly Damodar uses. I’ve always seen him sitting listlessly on one of the two low plastic stools, (whereas the vacant one awaiting for his anticipated, on-the-cards customer) with an album of intricate henna designs. For years, I’ve been wondering why he doesn’t close shop and venture into some other business. Not to sound prejudiced but his thick fingers and substantially weighty hands aren’t exactly inspiring—applying finely patterned henna does require a certain kind of finesse similar to say, you’d be quite apprehensive if your dentist had porky fingers and a plank-thick, hard-to-manoeuvre hand. Well, this time round, Damodar had really hit the jackpot playing the role of a conductor, a la Zubin Mehta. There, on that long strip of a sidewalk, he had employed a dozen or more, young, sprightly mehndi-artists (or were they touted as stylists?!) with their portable stools, and in place of an album displaying designs, their mobiles were loaded with picturesque hands. Yes, there were long queues of ladies but Damodar had streamlined the operation. Palm-sized chits of paper allotting numbers were given to each waiting Signora as he’d be slipping in wads of currency notes in a satchel. Rupees 1200 per hand, price non-negotiable! Criminal, don’t you think?! The ladies, young, old and in the in-between ages, didn’t seem to care less, picturing themselves as radiant brides, yet again! Business was on the boom for everyone…You cannot be garrisoned in front of a line of stores and not cough up a good share to the dukaandars. The police, went around with a masked look. Anything for tradition, the good Samaritan approach. Yes, a fair sum of money dunked in their pockets by the Mehndi merchant garnering this outlook?!
The countdown to Diwali has begun and more merriment is on the cards!

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