A man needed a dream, a passion to live and die for, or what was life worth? He had made a mistake once in relinquishing her love. Far worse to yearn and ache, never knowing, than to try to make it happen and fail; far better to reach for the dream than pluck air.
Despite his roguish looks, Javed was in torment as he glanced in the mirror at his dyed black hair, the tiny wobbles of flesh fanning his cheeks and the portly frame. He was forty-nine, and dissipated. The doctor had warned him about his cholesterol. He took three tablets twice a day and had to remember the large white pill was to be taken first, before the smaller two. His lips twisted ruefully. Romance had to be more than a weak-hearted, pill-popping middle-aged man, who couldn’t chase a bus any more, asking a lost love if she had ever thought of him again. Then the image of the jeering crowds and the camel arose before him, and he was filled with new resolve. The camel had not moved then, but today he would move mountains with his hope. He would go to Mill Road to see Heera.
The telephone rang. ‘Sir Puzzle’, who had been standing near the till, jumped like an electrocuted cat. Every Tuesday and Thursday the elderly man wandered into the shop, lifted his cap with gallantry to greet the women and request new jigsaw puzzles. The harder thebetter, he pleaded with a twinkle in his eye, preferably with a piece missing.
‘Good morning, IndiaNeed,’ said Heera. ‘Heera here …
Heera
… The wheelchair? For the Arthur Rank Hospice? Yes, I’ll keep it ready for collection this afternoon … Yes, I’ll remember what you said earlier … No, it won’t happen again, Mrs Wellington-Smythe … Goodbye.’
Heera returned to the Staff Area and brought out a wheelchair from behind the curtain to park near the till. She noticed a video cassette lying on one of the smaller sorting tables.
‘My little nephew loves
Thomas the Tank Engine
,’ she confided amiably, ‘but I’d better check the tape first. Those Korean girls sold
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
, and that
eediot
customer complained after a whole week that it was an adult video. She bought it for her toddler’s birthday party, she says, and the children saw some hot Russian babe called Nikita with seven LittleJohns. What does she expect? This is not Blockbuster . But she kept the video a whole week, so how many “children” watched the Russian babe Nikita “by mistake” is what I’d like to know.
Arre
, I also found a video once, and it was called
Birds in the Bush
. So I nicked it from the shop for a day, and it really was about some rare Australian birds, but I didn’t complain ,’ divulged Heera with a chuckle. ‘Anyway, girls, sad news. Meera Patel’s husband died last week. Massive heart attack. He was watching
Jerry Springer.
Don’t tell anyone, all right? Meera told me she’s telling everyone he was watching
Newsnight
.’
Looking shocked, Swarnakumari moved to a table to arrange children’s books. ‘Poor Meera,’ she murmuredsadly. ‘Who will colour her hair for her now? Terrible,
na
.’
Discovering a second pair of trousers and a tweed cap in another black bag, Heera continued, ‘Her sister Madhuri was mixed up in some dispute with her English neighbour fifteen years ago. There was a common blocked pipe, and they wouldn’t decide who was going to pay for the repairs. Anyway, things got really bad between them and the neighbour called Madhuri a “black bitch” in front of her in-laws from Surat – can you imagine, during the Diwali days, that too! And then Madhuri said that during the night this
angrez
woman’s dog had done a wee over her rangoli pattern on the ground near the garage. She said it must be on purpose, naturally, because English dogs are so well-trained , they never do their business just anywhere, so how else can it happen? But of course, who knows the truth? The English neighbour may not have been to blame, but anyway, one thing is clear. I would not
Despite his roguish looks, Javed was in torment as he glanced in the mirror at his dyed black hair, the tiny wobbles of flesh fanning his cheeks and the portly frame. He was forty-nine, and dissipated. The doctor had warned him about his cholesterol. He took three tablets twice a day and had to remember the large white pill was to be taken first, before the smaller two. His lips twisted ruefully. Romance had to be more than a weak-hearted, pill-popping middle-aged man, who couldn’t chase a bus any more, asking a lost love if she had ever thought of him again. Then the image of the jeering crowds and the camel arose before him, and he was filled with new resolve. The camel had not moved then, but today he would move mountains with his hope. He would go to Mill Road to see Heera.
The telephone rang. ‘Sir Puzzle’, who had been standing near the till, jumped like an electrocuted cat. Every Tuesday and Thursday the elderly man wandered into the shop, lifted his cap with gallantry to greet the women and request new jigsaw puzzles. The harder thebetter, he pleaded with a twinkle in his eye, preferably with a piece missing.
‘Good morning, IndiaNeed,’ said Heera. ‘Heera here …
Heera
… The wheelchair? For the Arthur Rank Hospice? Yes, I’ll keep it ready for collection this afternoon … Yes, I’ll remember what you said earlier … No, it won’t happen again, Mrs Wellington-Smythe … Goodbye.’
Heera returned to the Staff Area and brought out a wheelchair from behind the curtain to park near the till. She noticed a video cassette lying on one of the smaller sorting tables.
‘My little nephew loves
Thomas the Tank Engine
,’ she confided amiably, ‘but I’d better check the tape first. Those Korean girls sold
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
, and that
eediot
customer complained after a whole week that it was an adult video. She bought it for her toddler’s birthday party, she says, and the children saw some hot Russian babe called Nikita with seven LittleJohns. What does she expect? This is not Blockbuster . But she kept the video a whole week, so how many “children” watched the Russian babe Nikita “by mistake” is what I’d like to know.
Arre
, I also found a video once, and it was called
Birds in the Bush
. So I nicked it from the shop for a day, and it really was about some rare Australian birds, but I didn’t complain ,’ divulged Heera with a chuckle. ‘Anyway, girls, sad news. Meera Patel’s husband died last week. Massive heart attack. He was watching
Jerry Springer.
Don’t tell anyone, all right? Meera told me she’s telling everyone he was watching
Newsnight
.’
Looking shocked, Swarnakumari moved to a table to arrange children’s books. ‘Poor Meera,’ she murmuredsadly. ‘Who will colour her hair for her now? Terrible,
na
.’
Discovering a second pair of trousers and a tweed cap in another black bag, Heera continued, ‘Her sister Madhuri was mixed up in some dispute with her English neighbour fifteen years ago. There was a common blocked pipe, and they wouldn’t decide who was going to pay for the repairs. Anyway, things got really bad between them and the neighbour called Madhuri a “black bitch” in front of her in-laws from Surat – can you imagine, during the Diwali days, that too! And then Madhuri said that during the night this
angrez
woman’s dog had done a wee over her rangoli pattern on the ground near the garage. She said it must be on purpose, naturally, because English dogs are so well-trained , they never do their business just anywhere, so how else can it happen? But of course, who knows the truth? The English neighbour may not have been to blame, but anyway, one thing is clear. I would not
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