Wasted evening

Dusk falls on the crowded market. Honking cars, medley of voices and I hear only the noise in my head. We talk in clichés, I want to say, but its safer to stay quiet. Lights, colored and white begin to stream out of shops. Grand-looking shops squeezed alongside tiny shops. Cheap imported goods, ‘fancy items’, sit with lengths of cotton and silk. Boiled green peas arranged in neat piles on red plastic sheet covered stalls, dotted with tomatoes, onions and chilies. I am tempted only for a second; perhaps if he had pestered me, I would have given in. I would have given in even to the boy who sells cheap envelopes for a fancy price because he is studying, as he tells me every time I see him. My arm brushed against a woman, we don’t even bother to say sorry or smile at each other. I did not see anyone smile and yet they are all there to buy happiness. I just want to go home. Markets can really depress me sometimes, especially if I am there only to accompany and if the sun is beginning to go down.

The only thing that made me laugh was a wannabe kinda guy, wearing shades at six in the evening (no he wasn’t blind, he was at the steering wheel), listening to Anu Malik singing, “do me a favour, lets play holi!”