What is the question? │✔

{ 9 }

"Yes Ji, these are exported from Bombay, the rates can't be lowered!"

Eyes red from the lack of sleep, he stared at the man, cold and hard. Knowing that persuading a trained shopkeeper, especially a textile person who was skilled in arguing with bargaining women, he gave up and fished out a few cold silver coins. Calculating and recalculating, he placed them on the counter, examining the gloves which were now his.

He could survive without dinner for a few nights, right? Those gloves had cost him too much but they were necessary.

Absolutely necessary.

His eyes did not dare to run across the other things which he could buy. Resist temptation, his only success mantra in life.

Success, if he had any, to be honest.

Agreed, his recent ventures did not fetch him any profit. But he had a feeling that he would soon be successful. Very successful. He could see victory dancing at his fingertips.

"Oh Ji, that one over there, the yellow one. It is for a Puja."

It couldn't be? No, it couldn't. This place was quite far from that wretched colony.

"Why hello there, my rude neighbor! A good color this is, isn't it?"

Devi Mandal knew she had hit the correct spot, right when she saw paleness and shock sweep over her 'oh-so-lovely-neighbor'. Picking up the yellow sari, she held it close to her, eyes shifting between the man and the shopkeeper. The latter lifted up his thumb, gushing on praises about how the color suited his customer. For he was sure, if he got rid of that expensive sari then he could safely shut down his shop for the next whole week.

But it wasn't the shopkeeper's opinion which she needed.

It was the uncomfortable and clearly out-of-place Ismail Ansari's opinion which she wanted.

The shopkeeper understood that. His eyes pleaded with the man to put in a good word about the garment. Catching those begging eyes, the man growled, his frustration at its peak. He stood there waiting for the young boy, the cashier to be done with finding a change. He desperately needed the change or else he would have already been on his way home.

"Madam Ji! Don't pay any attention to him! You know how men are, right? No sense of clothing at all!"

Eyes glinting with mischief, she focused on the retailer.

"True! Very true! Men are just ... bah! My husband and a few other respectable ones are a few exceptions, I suppose! You know the other day, a few months ago, this one extremely rude man who unfortunately resides in our colony. He scared away a kid! A little girl, an eight-year-old, was crying because of him! And that person did not even have the decency to apologize!"

Perhaps it was the fumes rising from the incense sticks or maybe smoke rising from his ears. But it was certain, the shop had become quite foggy. Mysterious. Chilling even. However, it was not sensed by the shop-seller, as he continued buttering up his client.

"Yes, madam Ji! I agree! But that design which you are wearing is very pretty! But not better than this yellow one!"

"Oh really? I just bought this one last week, from my hometown! You know 'Hong Kong Market'? The rates are so affor—"

Her speech was cut off by an angry door which slammed on its own. She barely had time to have a glance at the man, running away and poof! Gone with the wind. Unfortunately, not forever. She might not see him in the colony, but his presence was like a lurking shadow.

On the other hand, the man dashed across the streets and climbed onto the running tram. Slipping into the nearest seat, he sat near the window, his eyes fixed to the stained glass. He watched the streets disappear, the way he wished to vanish into thin air.

That lady was horrible. She was an incorrigible pest, stuck to him like a leech. She was chasing him for the past six months, ever since he moved into 'Feroz Bari'. And the stunt she pulled out just now. Heaving a breath, he cursed out.

"May she get trapped in hell!"

With temper enough to kill her at the moment, he felt his shoulders slump and his head fall against the glass. One day, one day, all his dreams would come true.

He was tired. So tired. And very hungry as well.

"He scared away a kid! A little girl, an eight-year-old, she was crying because of him!"

Huh. It's not his fault that the little cockroach was that sensitive. And he was not at fault.

With these thoughts, his eyes fell shut, snores erupting out of nowhere. For dreams to turn true, he would have to learn how to dream first. And that's what he did. The first peaceful sleep he had in a long time. And hopefully not the last, he wished. For his deeds were not enough for even God to grant him mercy.

The people he had hurt were too many, too much to count.

Winding through the busy roads, the tram leaped, causing disruption to the peaceful crowd inside. Except one, who's snores only grew louder.

Astonished was the fly resting on the glass pane, watching the man in deep slumber; sensible was the glass pane, who made him understand patiently, how some people never really fit in the crowd.