I was walking around in Khan market. I had to pick up my new fancy glasses. They are those narrow kind and I can see the whole frame in my vision. Everyone likes them so much that I’m wearing them anyway although I miss my old big glasses. I know I will change back very soon.
I looked around the market for the perfect black top for a skirt I bought a few weeks back. I haven’t found it. Whenever I like something my sister says, 'It’s LS ( Low Society)' whereas my skirt is 'HS (High Society)’ Whenever she approves of something I feel like I look fat in it or else it’s just too expensive. Finally I bought a double sided belt.
I walked into bookshops out of habit. I asked for tarot cards. I already have six decks. I found a new one but didn’t like the illustrations much. I loved the journal and book it comes with. I stayed undecided for about ten minutes in each shop and then finally walked out twice.
As I waited for Papa to come and pick me up I walked around window shopping, looking at people, firangs and cute cuddly babies. Only in Khan market have I come across a small and beautiful shop which sells aromatic products like flowers, candles and incense etc. That’s what I call niche.
I quickly got myself a veg burger when Papa called. He bought some lovely flowers for home from a vendor while I gobbled down my burger. It was a truly messy affair. As we walked towards the car I felt a shower and I looked up expecting to see a leaky tank or desert cooler. A second later it started to pour. People were gasping in amazement. We got into the car and got on to the road. Electricity thundered in the sky and went off on the ground. We got stuck in traffic. A hailstorm ensued and we waited to the sound of radio as the traffic lights were out and everyone had managed to get entangled at the crossing. The traffic cop came soon.
We began moving at slow and steady pace. The irritating RJ kept talking on the radio. I heard the remix version of my favorite song from Zinda and despaired. Papa understood perfectly. He hates remixes more than anyone I know. We reached the Nizamuddin bridge and he said’ There will be four broken down fiats stuck on the road and it will take us 45 minutes to get home.’ We counted two cars and eight auto rickshaws broken down on the road. Dad switched to tape and sang along with it. He’s most happy when he’s singing. We got home safe and sound. Right at this moment he is celebrating the rain with a drink and a tape of his favorite songs…phir wohi shaam wohi gam wohi tanhai hai… dil ko samjhane teri yaad chali aayi hai
Nobody writes songs like this anymore. I think they just can't.