The Sari Shop Read Online Free PDF Page B

what rich man? My life is utter hell. Lakshmi went to her uncle’s wife’s brother’s marriage. And the same thing happened that happens every time she goes to attend a wedding. Comes back with her head full of rubbish. Says, I want this, I want that, we don’t have this, we desperately need that. And, mind you, it always happens.
Always
. I keep telling her, Lakshmi, when you see that others have something, don’t let your heart burn. Be content. Learn to be happy with whatever you have. But you know these women. This time she comes back in sulks, and, mind you, this is after she had bought a new sari and blouse and bangles to attend the wedding. Even after that she comes back with her face all blown up in a sulk. She comes and tells me that Munna wants new shoes just like Jaggu’s son’s. Bata shoes with laces! Can you imagine? Even my elder son who goes to school has never worn Bata shoes. And he doesn’t care either. He would go around barefoot if we let him. As if it matters what kind of shoes a little child wears. Isn’t it enough for her that she has bangles and a new sari? But, no, these women can drive you mad. I knew the reason why she was saying all this. I told her plainly. I told her, Lakhsmi, Munna is three years old. He doesn’t even know how to wipe his own nose properly. He doesn’t want newshoes.
You
want. Because your heart burns when you see Jaggu’s wife putting new shoes on her son’s feet in front of all the relatives. How can I help it? I am not a rich man like Jaggu. Jaggu has a small electrical appliances shop of his own. And he isn’t a very honest man either. I am sure he cheats each of his customers over a rupee or two. I told her. But does she listen? No. Pretends I am not even saying anything. Going yak, yak, yak herself all the time. And in the end, she always curses my poor dead mother. Why
she
has to be dragged into all this six years after her death, I don’t know. I am not going home till late at night,’ Gokul ended with a sigh.
    Then he asked Ramchand, ‘Do you want to come?’
    Ramchand was about to refuse. He had a headache and the vague uneasiness had turned into a sour taste in his mouth after Mrs Sachdeva and Mrs Bhandari’s visit. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hear Gokul grumble all evening. But then Gokul usually didn’t grumble for long. And the thought of going back to his room and cooking a lonely, tasteless meal with the light of the kerosene stove illuminating the peeling paint on the walls made up his mind.
    ‘Yes. Let us go,’ he said.
    Then Gokul turned to Hari and asked him, ‘Hari, do you want to go to Lakhan’s dhaba?’
    Hari didn’t hear him. He was on his knees on the floor, mopping up some tea he had spilled earlier. He was also singing at the top of his voice, his eyes shut in concentration, swishing the wet rag about anyhow. Gokul clicked his tongue in exasperation, went across to Hari and thumped his back. ‘Hari!’ he yelled. ‘Come, let’s go and eat.’
    Chander was about to leave too. He was wrapping his woollen muffler around his head. ‘Shall we ask him also?’ Hari whispered to Gokul.
    Gokul looked uncomfortable. ‘No, no,’ he said hurriedly.
    ‘Why?’ Hari asked, curious as ever.
    Gokul looked exasperated but answered him in a low voice, ‘He goes out every evening with other friends. Old friends from the factory he used to work in before he came here. They drink and all.’
    ‘Oh.’ Hari subsided. Then he took his own sweet time wrapping up. After he was done, the three walked out of the shop and started towards Lakhan Singh’s place.
    It was cold outside and the evening fog was building up. They shivered as they talked. Along the way they were joined by Subhash, Hari’s cousin. He was a shrewd looking young man with a very raucous laugh. He worked at Ladies’ Fancy Store nearby, which sold many things – parandees, bangles, lampshades, bindis, objects made of glass, brass and polished wood that came under