To say that little eleven year old Shaila was spoilt would be an understatement .
Besides the fact that her older brother Sudhir doted on her , her parents always caved in to her every wish .
Shaila had just seen a pair of Versace sunglasses in a glamorous magazine that her mom was reading . She wanted to own them right away, turning a deaf ear to her parents’explanations about their unavailability in Mumbai .
( not to mention the fact that it was out of their budget )
Her brother Sudhir had taken her along for company one evening while he looked for a pair of shoes in Colaba . While he was busy with that , his sister was loitering outside the shop .
Lo and behold , what a surprise ! On the footpath was a vendor with a basket of goodies ; hanging out on one side of the basket was a pair of goggles , none other than Versace , exact style , green colour frame and silver monogram .
“ How much ? “ asked Shaila
“For a sweet girl like you, I should give it for free, “ said the vendor . “ My boss would be unhappy . How about 95 rupees ?”
Shaila had more than that in her purse ,she immediately purchased the dark glasses and joyfully showed them to Sudhir .
Sudhir took a quick look the cheap plastic imitation . The monogram was spelt Wursashi and on the frame was engraved USA which he knew stood for Ulhasnagar Sindhi Association .
But he could not break his sister’s heart .
Coming out of the shop , Shaila put on her sunglasses . The bright day changed to a dark evening, so black were the glasses . She did not care .
With the first step she took , Shaila almost fell on her face . The footpath appeared one foot higher . As her brother quizzically raised his eyebrows, she stubbornly insisted that nothing was wrong .
Very soon she adjusted although she had to proceed in a high stepping marching gait .
But at the edge where the footpath stopped at the curb , she misjudged the street level by 18 to 20 inches .
A bhaiyya pushing his panipuri cart had stopped , bent over for a second to scratch the space between his buttocks .
(In Mumbai , it’s a well kept , unspoken secret that this repeated maneuver adds to the taste of the pani )
Had those fat buttocks not stood in the way as buffers , Shaila would have had a head injury. Butting her head into his butts however knocked the bhaiyya into his cart , which rolled into the street and into the middle of traffic .
The smart taxi driver used to Mumbai’s traffic hazards, braked in time , so did the cars behind him.
All would have been well if it wasn’t for Manoranjan Varma driving his lorry behind the braking cars .
True to his name , one per cent of his attention was on the traffic , and ninety nine percent on the cute chick in short tight skirts to his left on the footpath .
As he collided into the car ahead of him, all five cars in front seemed to join as one , heading for the panipuriwalla’s cart .
No one was hurt as Mumbai cars drove at slow speeds because of the bumper to bumper traffic , but the obscenities that emerged were truly noteworthy .
Sudhir grabbed his sister’s hand saying “ Enough is enough . We are going to return those glasses right now “.as he pulled her back towards the Bata shoe shop
“No way ., “ argued Sarita , “ I will die before that . “
Fortunately Gomu came to the rescue .She was a big fat bhains ..or female buffalo….. as hoity toity as could be…… pulling the bullock cart at the cross roads a hundred meters ahead , ringing the bells around the neck ….at the same time of the day as was her routine .
She turned the corner without missing a single dainty step and dropped a loadful of shit .
Maganlala Panwala was nonchalantly preparing a Calcutta mitha paan for a customer , his philosophical mind still in a quandry .
Why ?
Why ?
Why did Gomu do this every day , same place , same time ?
Why was it such a giant load ?One would think a tyranosaurus rex had passed by…
Why was it without fail that some sucker always stepped into the cowdung while it was hot , wet and mushy ?
Even as Maganlal pondered these earthshaking ideas, Shaila came stamping down the road and stepped smack into the pile of Gomu’s offerings .
“Eeks , ‘she screamed , “ Shee ! Shee ! Help Sudhir , do something . “
At that , Maganlal Panwala stopped in the act of putting the supari in the pan and with a bored look , told Sudhir to get the bucket of water sitting outside that Irani restaurant and wash her feet .
And then he went back to his pan After all it was a daily occurrence . Sigh !
Truly , thought Maganlal,… Gomu deserved more recognition.
If only she had unloaded at the waters’ edge , there would be enough landfill to build a 5 star hotel every few years .
If only Monet or Van Gogh were alive, they would be desperately working on their palette , trying out their strange parrot green Chinese shade of Gomu’s droppings .
If only Gomu was two legged instead of four legged , who knows , she might have been nominated for a Padmabhushan.
“ I hate those glasses ,” said Shaila while her brother washed her feet . I don’t ever want to see these stupid Versace glasses for the rest of my life . “
The street vendor of course was nowhere to be seen . From a distance , Sudhir heard a voice shouting ,
“Genuine Rolex watch …..pukka genuine ..only 500 rupees .”
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