I entered my old street, thoughtfully.
Vegetable vendor Apparao, is pushing his cart, filled with all types of vegetables, carefully arranged, so that eggs trays lie in one corner, for those who do not eat and have objections, all the vegetables are in potatoes colour, that is brown, as he roams over the streets and the dust settling on the veggies, may have given that colour..I thought.
How are you doing Apparao? I inquired,
"Your mercy Madam, we are doing fine"..he answered..as his face opened up like a cabbage flower, with glee.
Hmmm..my mercy..
We lived in our first two bedroom flat, in this same street, long before, may be more than fifteen ,twenty years..back,
Apparao, was a young man then, always in a half nikker, with a shirt, just managing to cover his upper torso, a boy of his ,then ten years old, but looking like six years old, used to call him..daddy...
That boy was always munching a carrot, and he was the helper, his father much needed to hand over the vegetables to ammas, those who cannot climb down.
We used to collect ,before the vegetable cart, always in two groups, one is our Apartments residents, of four floora and the other group, from the neighbouring huge three storied independent house, the owner of which, was also huge, with a big bindiya on her forehead, her tenants were her subjects, towing along with her, and they gave us that superior looks, that we belong to flats, whereas they are from houses..
Actually ,they nursed a grudge that our Apartment's block has blocked their air and light access.. that was the underlying current of animosity between us..
Bottle gourd, tomatoes, bananas, aloos, vegetables ammaa..used to be his long cry to entice mothers who sat before TVs ,or busy with other chores inside flats..Some ladies used to list out the vegetables they required and the son ,would hurry to that flat, carrying them in a small basket.
The neighbor to our flats, the huge lady used to comment, your son is so active ,Apparao..and he was so proud..
I used to linger about the vegetable cart, like an actor, who forgot her lines, and is waiting for her prompted lines..
I was a research scholar, a student then ,with two young sons, and my tiffins used to be simple bread, milk or boiled eggs..
I was always contemplating, how to cook ,for instance a bottle gourd ,like my mom does, I can state any physics laws ,but cooking, I was just scared..being a new introduction to kitchen, I even do not know ,what to have in my tempering dabba..how to temper or season..all were just terrifying moments for me..
Quarter kg, brinjals, a few green chillies, one order, another proud lady from our flats, three quarters ridge gourd, we eat lots of veggies, she used to declare proudly, and another ,used to say in hushed voice, a half a dozen eggs Apparao, and two kgs, of onions, giving looks to all those pure vegetarians..
My neighbour used to shout at the top of her voice, Apparao, why dont you bring any new types of vegetables??and What are these rates?? do you plan to build a big building with this profit??
He was aghast, Ammaa. how could you say that, dont you know the rates, how expensive everything is?? we are just able to meet our ends, was his usual reply..
Apparao, why dont you send your son to school? I used to inquire.
Ammaa..dont you know, Government schools, teaching is bad, and private schools are just not our cup of tea, they are so expensive ,we cannot afford.. he used to say in reply.
We moved to another colony, into a bigger three bed roomed flat, children have finshed their college educations and are out of home, one in USA and other in Chennai, still pursuing higher studies of their choice.. now I can cook any vegetable into a tasty dish and my tiffins are now continental to Indian dishes..
I have never entered this colony, till now, as my mother is living in our old flat, and I visit her often..
There are many changes too..I came to know..
My neighbour sold her house to someone, and later she expired too, our flats also, many old residents have gone out, or altogether from this world. .and I am surprised, how I can see the difference of time, in this colony, rather than ,where I live now..
That is why. .I was surprised to see Apparao, still selling vegetables on the same cart..times have changed for us, but for him..
I stopped and inquired about his children..
By your Grace, he again said, my daughter is married to a vegetable vendor in Simhachalam, they are happy with a kid, my son, completed his degree, with the help of some good people, like you, and he is now working as a sales boy in More shop in China waltair, I am happy Ammaa..all your grace..
I was aghast..he seems to be so happy, with his life..
here we are still struggling to save more and more money, buy another new house with a garden around, my dream house and we are still dissatisfied with our life..all the way..
Is there not any wish for him ,for his son to settle in new job? study further? or settle in a good house, they must be living in a rented house..
and what is he saying..." my mercy" not even God's mercy, how could be so happy??
When will be there a day, his son will also do a good job?
when will be a day, when he stops saying " your mercy,ammaa"
my mercy...hmmm..I walked into my flat, thoughtfully..
Vegetable vendor Apparao, is pushing his cart, filled with all types of vegetables, carefully arranged, so that eggs trays lie in one corner, for those who do not eat and have objections, all the vegetables are in potatoes colour, that is brown, as he roams over the streets and the dust settling on the veggies, may have given that colour..I thought.
How are you doing Apparao? I inquired,
"Your mercy Madam, we are doing fine"..he answered..as his face opened up like a cabbage flower, with glee.
Hmmm..my mercy..
We lived in our first two bedroom flat, in this same street, long before, may be more than fifteen ,twenty years..back,
Apparao, was a young man then, always in a half nikker, with a shirt, just managing to cover his upper torso, a boy of his ,then ten years old, but looking like six years old, used to call him..daddy...
That boy was always munching a carrot, and he was the helper, his father much needed to hand over the vegetables to ammas, those who cannot climb down.
We used to collect ,before the vegetable cart, always in two groups, one is our Apartments residents, of four floora and the other group, from the neighbouring huge three storied independent house, the owner of which, was also huge, with a big bindiya on her forehead, her tenants were her subjects, towing along with her, and they gave us that superior looks, that we belong to flats, whereas they are from houses..
Actually ,they nursed a grudge that our Apartment's block has blocked their air and light access.. that was the underlying current of animosity between us..
Bottle gourd, tomatoes, bananas, aloos, vegetables ammaa..used to be his long cry to entice mothers who sat before TVs ,or busy with other chores inside flats..Some ladies used to list out the vegetables they required and the son ,would hurry to that flat, carrying them in a small basket.
The neighbor to our flats, the huge lady used to comment, your son is so active ,Apparao..and he was so proud..
I used to linger about the vegetable cart, like an actor, who forgot her lines, and is waiting for her prompted lines..
I was a research scholar, a student then ,with two young sons, and my tiffins used to be simple bread, milk or boiled eggs..
I was always contemplating, how to cook ,for instance a bottle gourd ,like my mom does, I can state any physics laws ,but cooking, I was just scared..being a new introduction to kitchen, I even do not know ,what to have in my tempering dabba..how to temper or season..all were just terrifying moments for me..
Quarter kg, brinjals, a few green chillies, one order, another proud lady from our flats, three quarters ridge gourd, we eat lots of veggies, she used to declare proudly, and another ,used to say in hushed voice, a half a dozen eggs Apparao, and two kgs, of onions, giving looks to all those pure vegetarians..
My neighbour used to shout at the top of her voice, Apparao, why dont you bring any new types of vegetables??and What are these rates?? do you plan to build a big building with this profit??
He was aghast, Ammaa. how could you say that, dont you know the rates, how expensive everything is?? we are just able to meet our ends, was his usual reply..
Apparao, why dont you send your son to school? I used to inquire.
Ammaa..dont you know, Government schools, teaching is bad, and private schools are just not our cup of tea, they are so expensive ,we cannot afford.. he used to say in reply.
We moved to another colony, into a bigger three bed roomed flat, children have finshed their college educations and are out of home, one in USA and other in Chennai, still pursuing higher studies of their choice.. now I can cook any vegetable into a tasty dish and my tiffins are now continental to Indian dishes..
I have never entered this colony, till now, as my mother is living in our old flat, and I visit her often..
There are many changes too..I came to know..
My neighbour sold her house to someone, and later she expired too, our flats also, many old residents have gone out, or altogether from this world. .and I am surprised, how I can see the difference of time, in this colony, rather than ,where I live now..
That is why. .I was surprised to see Apparao, still selling vegetables on the same cart..times have changed for us, but for him..
I stopped and inquired about his children..
By your Grace, he again said, my daughter is married to a vegetable vendor in Simhachalam, they are happy with a kid, my son, completed his degree, with the help of some good people, like you, and he is now working as a sales boy in More shop in China waltair, I am happy Ammaa..all your grace..
I was aghast..he seems to be so happy, with his life..
here we are still struggling to save more and more money, buy another new house with a garden around, my dream house and we are still dissatisfied with our life..all the way..
Is there not any wish for him ,for his son to settle in new job? study further? or settle in a good house, they must be living in a rented house..
and what is he saying..." my mercy" not even God's mercy, how could be so happy??
When will be there a day, his son will also do a good job?
when will be a day, when he stops saying " your mercy,ammaa"
my mercy...hmmm..I walked into my flat, thoughtfully..
