howdy neighbour

I went down to my local xerox-shop last evening. Never been there before, it's always closed during our Cafe-Coffee-Day afternoon trips. Exams and lust for the philosophy professor drove me down there. I dumped my huge pile of borrowed notes on the counter and looked around.

A small shop, scantily-lit, slightly broken-down. A petite woman with a resigned, determined face started copying my notes. A child of about a year was playing just outside the shop. The woman kept a sharp eye on her. When she started crying, the woman gave her a rupee and told her to get a banana from the 'bhajjiwala uncle next door.' And she did. As she wandered in and out of the shop, she occasionally brushed against my leg. Very soft and fragile.

Everyone knows the shop. People kept coming and asking for 'Ram.' The woman demurely replied that he wasn't there. There was something about her, about her neatly worn sari and matching blouse, the simple parting in the middle of her hair. She couldn't and didn't want to be any other way. People....men came and were familiar with her. Asking for pens and printing-paper. Some neighbourhood kids playing nearby came running and scooped up the child, making her chuckle. My xerox was a long process. I watched. There is something connected and sure about the place. Mothers xeroxing certificates for a daughter's college application, drivers coming in long, smooth cars and holding out 500 rupee notes to be changed, elderly women out for evening walks in salwar-kameezes and sneakers....and no matter how developed Pune gets, tis heartening to know these little pockets of raw simplicity exist. Maybe the shop will never expand, maybe it will be demolished and be replaced by some grand mall or office-building, but for now....it's there.