However, when we shifted to the big city, vegetable vendors were not known like most people around. They were what I call agadu (haughty) and you know for the life of me I can’t figure out which language gifted me this word. Anyhow, so in the sub-city of Noida (lovingly called Naveda by bus conductors from CP and city centre from the metro travellers who just discovered it), vegetable vendors had a giant showing in weekly vegetables markets- a different day in each sector.
Ma and papa would often frequent the Friday market. Friday market meant Gudiya and I were locked in at home- where we typically fought, watched a movie, or on kinder days posed for each other on the camera- we even have some shady picture proofs- she was always starry, I was always conscious (it’s amazing how that never changed). At the end of the market, we would be fed weekly popcorn and without fail, we’d get aaloo-nadur (potatoes & lotus stem), because they always used to get late, and hungry girls are hard to deal with. This was perhaps the quickest recipe my mother could churn just by the time we finished the popcorn.
|The suspect spices|
In standard tenth, I dragged ma to the Friday market, though my awkward teen-ness, to collect spices for a biology project trying to prove they had artificial colours in them. I don’t quite remember what I did about it anycase. But strange men passing lewd comments ensured I didn’t enter the market till this Friday post a lot of emotional attyachar. *Since papa was travelling, who’d carry the fat bags*.
So, the market is just as it was. Vegetables as my rickshaw-wallah had said, shockingly expensive,
especially that small piece of ginger.
agadu and into gimmicky comments, though of
course now I’m far more equipped to be mean back. The spices still looked contaminated, aunties still pushy, and I just don’t get these people who get there in their cars, and then honk, imagining people on the road with their vegetables would evaporate to create spaces.
I decided to act touristy though, clicked pictures. Generally for excitement, and making random people conscious. * Why should I be the only one to suffer *
I wonder if buying vegetables *like this* is the single most common reason for marital un-bliss. In my live-away-from-home experience I shopped for vegetables and *all* of that happened in a supermart, I was a Tesco regular used to a non-haggling, stand in a queue environment. In the future, as well, I might just vote for more (?) convenience. I’m not sure, I can entirely agree with Ma or Carrie even and say (vegetable) shopping is my cardio. And thus in the new rhythm, Friday markets may just stay put as the chronicles of my popcorn times.
PS: Happy birthday blog