Delhi, India.
Digging the bitter gourd from the bottom row, she observed it thoroughly.
"Supriya ji, why are you picking the bottom one? Choose the ones from the top rows!"
Glaring at the clever shopkeeper, she quirked an eyebrow and asked, "Why should I intentionally pick up the rotten ones? Make someone else fall into your trap, Ramu Kaka!".
Dropping the vegetable into the plastic basket, she handed them over to the red-faced shopkeeper, asking him to pass the weights first, so that she could check if they were faulty. Dropping them back into his hands, she faced away, picking up a few crumbled notes from her purse.
"Ji, that would be five fifty four!"
Handing over the notes and coins, she said, "Here, keep your five twenty four! You and I know that the weights were faulty!".
Picking up the three bags she walked away, leaving Ramu Kaka dumbstruck.
Standing on the road crossing, she cursed herself for missing out the signal.
"Supriya, this color suits you really well!"
She turned around and her silver plait twirled along with her, falling back to its place when she stopped. Smiling at her neighbor, Nirmala, she looked down at her pastel pink saree. Something different from her usual dull grey.
Her clothes itself reflected her mood, and to say she was happy today was an understatement.
Why? She didn't know. She was happy and she knew that.
"Oh really? Nirmala, you are just exaggerating!"
Accepting the compliment was out of question. That's how it was and that's how it will be.
Crossing the road together, the two ladies chit-chatted, talking about anything and everything. Reaching their homes, they parted their ways, each claiming to be busy, clearly lying.
"Okay. Meet you at three Nirmala! Near the wall," she said, motioning the crumbling wall which separated their houses.
Walking inside her house, humming some old Bollywood tune, she marched inside the kitchen. Removing the vegetables out of the bags, she placed them inside the sink and left the tap open. Washing them thrice, she gathered up the shining capsicums and bitter gourds, tied them up in different packets and placed them inside the humidity drawer.
Pulling out the old tomatoes, she closed the fridge and once again set to work.
Chopping up the juicy tomatoes, she dropped them into the pressure cooker containing lentils. Filling it up with water, she placed it on the burner.
Having nothing to do, she stared at the two cookers in front of her. One which held rice and the other which had lentils.
The cooker with the rice blared, its whistle jumping in the air.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
She stood still.
