It was a dark, gloomy Wednesday evening at Zainab Market, Saddar. It was that part of the day when people are usually making their way back home from work. There was immense hustle bustle within the region as vehicles were honking their way out of the cramped up streets. The bikers were using the footpaths and pedestrians were struggling to keep safe on them.
There on the crowded streets, I see a young boy who might be 9 or 10 years of age. He seemed to belong to the Afghan community. He had green pistachio eyes, fair complexion and wore a fawn shalwar kameez that had been torn from multiple places with his pockets sticking out. He stood still watching the hustle bustle on the street.
His gazed is fixed, and with great curiosity he is looking at the cars, bicycles, bikes and people making their way on the streets. At the same time, he is eavesdropping over two men wear dress pants and shirts talking about politics within their workplace while waiting for their bus. It seems like he is taking in everything from his surroundings.
He breaks out of his gaze when a thin man wearing a green shalwar kameez and Pathani chappals, standing behind a rair he shouts out chotay. He runs to the stall which had Masha’Allah Chaat Kaarnar written on it. The stall was laced with bags of gol gappay, colorful plastic plates, sliced chilies and onion and burney’s of assorted sauces precisely placed within the little space. The thin man tells him to take the order of the family who just came to sit on the bench placed horizontally near the stall.
A family of three came to sit where a fat man wearing crisp clean shalwar kameez and a bearded face ask the little fellow.
Kya kya hai?
He replied, sir jeechaat, meethi puri, pani poori, bhel poori and thandi bottal.
He then orders two chaats and two cold drinks. On the other hand his wife who is covered head to toe is trying to calm her daughter who is crying over the torch light toy which an old vendor is constantly marketing to her.
Chotay, gets the food meanwhile. He now sees that the father who was previously agitated with his whining daughter has sacrificed to her will and spent Rs. 150 for the little frenzy toy. The man asks chotay the amount to which he says Rs. 85. The man takes out a bundle of cash from his upper pocket and then handovers a red glistening note to him. He offers him the change to which he refuses. The joy on receiving Rs. 15 tip is surreal for the little lad.
Now the hustle bustle of the cars has somehow lowered and families are seen in search of parkingin the jammed pack streets. It is business time and the entire area is waiting to welcome the hoard of people.
On the right side there are numerous shops that are almost 8×8 in size stacked with bundles of clothes. Pajamas, t-shirts, shirts are kept one over the other according to their sizes. Some are displayed on the walls with hangers running over the ropes whereas on the other side of the counter, young men wearing t-shirts with catchy pick up lines such as‘faasla rakhain warna pyaar hojayega.”,“I am single” etc. fitted to their thin bodies and their flashy jeans torn in a manner that their flesh exhibits are doing business.
While families past by these shops, strange chants are heard such as ‘baji, idhartou aye’, ‘bataye kya chahiyaya?’, ‘humaray paas zananab hi hai or mardana variety bhi’ seem to agitate the young girls while they try to protect themselves from the out of nowhere pushes of these frustrated young men.
From far away you see a healthy man wearing shalwar kameez and blue aviators. With a chiseled face and broad smile enters the market holding a rectangular wooden board with different shades correctly placed. A wide variety of shades he has that are trendy as well as conventional. It is something about him that reflects positivity and freedom.
A young teenager approaches him wearing flashy pink t-shirt and colorful bands on his hand. He offers him the so called original Ray Bans in Rs. 180 claiming that he would resemble Shahrukh Khan in them. What a bitter lie.
A family is now making their way past the street jammed with boys. The mother being particular about her young daughter holds her hand briskly and tries to cover her up, protecting her from the evil gazes of these men.
The family makes their way to the chaat stall where chotay is on his feet to serve his customers. They order 4 chaat and drinks while the girl who seems irritated with the sour onion smell chooses to just gulp down on her chilled drink.
Chotay just keeps on starring at them. His gaze is fixed on the little boy who is playing with his father’s gigantic mobile phone. His dimples start to appear when he sees the father feeding the little boy with his own hands. The boy keeps on complaining that it is too spicy but the father promises to buy him candy once he finishes. There is some strangeness in the father’s eyes. His love is contagious and can be felt by chotay standing far away from him.
For chotay so much unsaid seem to drop as glistening tears from his eyes. His dreams untold, his voice unheard but with hope in his eyes; he turns back.
