Andheri slow - II class

"Everyone wants everything and that too for cheap. They don't care how much effort and money goes into making something. They just want it at their own price.", she informed the old woman selling chikki made of peanuts and jaggery, in her shrill voice. She had chosen not to sit but to stand near the door and let the stale, rancid air of Mumbai pretend to be a pleasing breeze. She looked a little bizarre at first glance but a careful inspection showed that the dress had been put together with much care. It mimicked the retro look popularised by the movie "Om Shanti Om". Her hair was held back with a flimsy scarf while the blue of her salwar-kameez matched the colour of the one flaunted by the heroine. The bell sleeves, the glittering beads at the neck, the tight chudidar, the transparent dupatta, everything put together carefully. She wore large hoops in her ears, with a silver thimble adorning them, like a jarring note in a badly composed piece of music. She was old, trying to look young. Her lower lip jutted out, her teeth were stained with tobacco and her eyes closed to slits every time she flashed her toothy smile. The old woman merely sighed and lay down on the empty seat. The chikki cast aside. A baby squealed playfully in her mother's arms and stared at the world with her wide open eyes. She held out her arms but the baby shied away, burrowing her face is her mother's shoulder. "Your baby girl is very chirpy." she said "Isn't it? So bubbly and pretty. Aren't you? Will you come with me to do some business?" Business, dhanda, she said. And yet there was no malice in the word that is usually considered to be derogatory. For her it was a way of life. She failed to see the difference. It was just like selling sweets made of peanuts and jaggery. But for the right price.