In our small town, there were no supermarkets or malls. When we needed vegetables we either went to the
mandi
, the vegetable market that was set up in the open turf near the town centre, or vendors brought them to our localities to sell them. In our neighbourhood, there was a regular vendor who came every day to sell us vegetables and the women were quite familiar and happy with his fresh vegetables and rates. It was a very convenient system.
At one time though, our regular vegetable vendor had been absent for a while and I heard my mother and aunts complaining about it daily as they had to trek to the
mandi
to do their shopping. This meant a walk of about 15-20 minutes and additional expenditure when they had to pay to haul the vegetables back in a rickshaw. With a household of over twenty people, buying fresh vegetables was a daily affair and the disappearance of our vendor who came to our locality really bothered them and put an additional trip to the market in their day.
So it was with a sense of joy that we heard the familiar hawking coming from the street after an absence of about a week. But it was a different voice that sent out the familiar refrain. All of us ran out to see and that was when I set my eyes on Veenu, our old vendor's son.
He explained to us that his father was sick and had been unable to do his rounds that he had been doing for thirty years, and was understandably distraught about it. He felt like he was letting us all down by making us go far to buy vegetables and giving us unnecessary trouble. So he had asked his son to take up his post till he recovered. And so here was Veenu.
At that time I was unaware of what we would get up to, and I remember holding back a little while my mother, aunts and elder sister crowded around his rickety bicycle and bartered with him for the produce. I was a young girl and not really interested in cooking yet. My sister was taking up her training in the kitchen for the moment to prepare her for her upcoming wedding, so I was off the hook. I didn't really care much what they bought or what they cooked.
After a while when the excitement of the new vegetable seller died down and my mother moved from her place with her vegetable basket, I got a clear view of Veenu. I had not noticed him before with all the ladies rushing forward and the fuss of the bartering and the general delight of the vendor finally showing up.
But when I had my first clear look at him, I noticed that he was quite good-looking. He had very soft brown hair that he wore a little longer than usual and beautiful brown eyes. He always had a smile while bantering with my mother and aunts and an easy familiarity and confidence while interacting. His dress of shirt and pants, though not at all expensive, still was better than the
kurta
and
dhoti
of his father. I liked him.
Veenu became a common thing during that time, merrily hawking his vegetables down our street, most of the time coming into our courtyard with his small basket to bring something that my mother or aunts had asked for in advance the day before. His sunny disposition and easy smile while bartering endeared him to the neighbourhood and before long he was even more liked than his father. This meant he could command slightly higher prices and he was obliged by the matronly ladies and young girls of the locality. Maybe this suited their family well, because we didn't see his father return for a long time... almost three months.
Almost every day of those months, I peeked at him from a first floor window or the balcony when he came, making as if I was just hanging out. It wasn't like I was infatuated with him or anything of that sort. He was just easy on the eyes.
A few times our eyes met when I was looking at him. Sometimes he just spared a small glimpse when there was someone with him, but when he wasn't being watched by anyone, he usually looked up and our eyes met for longer periods of time. He usually gave me a smile while looking at me. There was definitely interest there too.
Usually, Veenu came around ten in the morning, the prefect time for the midday meal to start being planned in the minds of the women. His calls came regularly at that time from the street; we could have set the time with his regularity.
One day, after nearly a month of his starting to sell the vegetables on our route, he was late. It was already ten-thirty and he was nowhere to be seen. My mother and aunts were impatiently banging stuff together in the kitchen, grumbling under their breath at him while keeping an ear cocked for his call. They all had planned to go to the market for some shopping for an upcoming wedding, and had planned to cook lunch before leaving, but now their plans were starting to fizzle out.
Their mood was getting darker by the second as they cooked rice and dal with some leftover
bhaji
from the day before. It was definitely not enough and they would have to cook at least two dishes again later on in the day for the meal at night. Usually we just ate the same thing for dinner with an additional
sabzi
but they didn't need to cook twice like they would have to do that day.
When midday came and went, they finished their cooking and called us to lunch. I hurriedly finished the
dal-chawal
and
bhaji
, eager to escape the black mood. Then they cleaned up and left, taking my sister with them. I had told them I didn't want to be stuck with them buying jewellery or saris. All that stuff didn't interest me then and that was how I was left alone in the house.
In only about fifteen minutes or so after they had left, I heard the familiar call from the street. It was Veenu with his vegetables. I chuckled to myself and murmured a small curse under my breath. He could have come a few minutes earlier and caught my mother and aunts. They would have blasted him with their words but at least bought what they wanted for the night's meal.
I wondered whether I should buy anything or not, whether to even open the front door and see what he had to offer. My mother or aunts had not left any instructions on what to do if he came, so I was still in two minds when an idea occurred to me. I decided to play with the poor guy a little bit... just test him to see how far he would go. Nothing outrageous, just some fun was what I had in mind.
Veenu came up to our door and knocked.
I was ready for him. I opened the door. "Why are you so late today?" I asked even before I had the door fully open.
"Sorry, sorry! I got late today as the
mandi
started out late. There was some municipality pipe leak and the whole place was flooded, so they had to deal out of the backs of trucks and autos. It was such a pain trying to find all my regular people and trying to get vegetables out of the madness. It was too much confusion everywhere," he explained. He craned his neck in to peek behind me. "Is your mother in?" he asked.
"No, but show me what you have," I demanded.
"Your aunt wanted some potatoes and tomatoes yesterday," he said. "I got them for her. Is she in?"
"No, nobody is at home. They all went out to the market," I said.
"They should have just waited for me," he said as his face fell.
"No, no. Not to buy vegetables. Just to do some other shopping. What else did aunt want? Do you know?"
"No, she just said to get potatoes and tomatoes and I have them here in the small basket," he said, heaving it out from the bigger one on the back of his bicycle. "Do you want anything else?" he asked, his smile accompanying the words.
I hesitated a bit, letting a frown come onto my face. "I don't know. Did they say anything else yesterday?"
