For Ladies Only

She trudged her way to the cornershop as she had been doing for the last two decades. Nothing seemed to have changed in all these years. Neither the shop with its prominently displayed goods nor the lady with the sleeveless blouse and cotton sari universally known as Boudi (Bengali, sister-in-law). Neither the shop boys, who had been in their teens when she had first started frequenting the shop, nor the tea-vendor who brought them hot cups of tea twice a day, appeared to have aged. The only change was in the floating generations of students who descended every evening in herds to buy toiletries and personal items.

Boudi’s older customers continued to frequent her shop for two reasons even after the first supermarket opened in the small town. She was the first one to have caught on to the idea of home delivery and she had the incredible knack of responding to her customers’ demands while taking in news of their families, the latest gossip and fashions. Her regular customers would not visit the shop at the peak hour when she would be catering to her largely teenaged college-going female clientele seeking advice on treating acne and pimples but mid-morning when Boudi was in a mood for a bit of tittle tattle. Boudi, who was privy to so many confidences, was the most reliable grapevine in the neighbourhood . She could not only reel off the names of the sons and daughters of the families who had topped the high school board exam but also list the universities in which they had been accepted. She would know about who was dating whom even before parents got wind of what their daughters were up to and predict the season in which the wedding was likely to take place.

She spied her neighbor Mina’s topknot from the corners of her eyes way before her buxom figure, modestly wrapped in an off white sari, appeared in her field of vision. Mina had come looking for her trusted brand of coconut oil which she swore was the secret of her grandmother’s unlined face and that she religiously applied all over her face and body to keep the wrinkles at bay.  The purchase took barely a minute as the rest of the long list she handed over was to be delivered home. But Mina tarried outside the shop after an exchange of pleasantries and filled in Boudi on the whereabouts of her son who had recently left to join a university in another city as the instructors in this university did not come up to his expectations. Boudi nodded in complete agreement, “Of course, just think of the new Physics teacher. She dresses and looks like a Bollywood star. But can she really teach? Good looking women can never be good scientists”, she pronounced in an authoritative tone. Mina was happy to volunteer information about her son’s problems in finding an affordable rental, an easy-to-get-along- with roommate and a trainable cook. Mina hung around in the hope that she might run into someone she knew. Her prayers were answered when the heavy gold jhumkas and bracelets glinting on Saraswati’s supple, dusky skin announced her arrival.

“How are you? Has your daughter joined the dance school”? Saraswati greeted Boudi in her cheerful voice as she strode across to the shop. Then she noticed Mina and included her in her smile. “You have a beautiful skin! What do you do?” Mina inquired opening her eyes wider. But Saraswati was not one to give away the secret of her genetically gifted flawless skin and quickly diverted the conversation. “I am so glad you stood up for your daughter against your old-fashioned family and let her follow her dreams. She is going to become a nationally acclaimed dancer, mark my words, and thank you for making her one”, she felt entitled to jubilate with Boudi as she had felt obliged to support female education by educating the friendly neighbourhood shopowner. She would have like to linger and catch up with Mina but she turned on her heels when she got a whiff of the resident doctor’s plump, garrulous wife waddling her way to the shop. That woman with her squeaky, high pitched voice could get on anyone’s nerves except on Boudi’s who had to humour her for she was a very dependable customer whose shopping list miraculously increased in direct proportion to the number of minutes Boudi listened to her travails.

As she turned to her right, she came face to face with Payal who performed the task of shopping for vegetables with the same earnestness as that of cooking. Having to command an army of half a dozen retainers, Payal always looked harried, “I wish I had ten hands like the goddess Durga”!, she exclaimed before stopping to admire Saraswati’s kanchipuram sari with a temple border, “Where did you buy it? You must give me the address of the street where the store is located”. The daughter of a textile merchant, Payal prided herself on her ability to discriminate between fabrics and hurried away to her car. The cornershop was the best location for mid-morning chitchat. On this day, all the ladies in her circle of friends appear to have descended there on some errand or the other.

She did not particularly enjoy conversing with the lady doctor who spent more time admiring her patient’s outfits than listening to their symptoms but there was no away she could avoid her now as Kusum was making her way to her with a sweet smile. As Kusum couldn’t keep anything to herself, she blurted out details of the share of ancestral property that she had recently inherited. She was going to get herself a pair of chic diamonds instead of heavy gold items that the tasteless women in the campus wore even as she greedily eyed Saraswati’s old-fashioned jhumkas, “Did you get all this gold from your parents for your dowry”, she politely inquired. Saraswati, always one for one-upmanship shot back, “Yes, my dear. My mother gifted me a 100 tolas of gold for my wedding. You must come and see it sometime”. But Saraswati could make her escape as Kusum was already looking over head to catch the attention of another friend with whom she could trust with her good news.

It was always a pleasure to exchange notes with calm, unruffled Roma whose gentle smile soothed Saraswati’s hot temper. A good listener who rarely volunteered details about her own life, Roma stopped to inquire about the health of Saraswati’s family and offered some advice on buying fish. Roma was always one for getting a bargain and was completely focused on not being duped into buying stale produce. As she listened to Saraswati, her eyes darted about searching for others she might know and took in the entire scene in a single sweeping glance. She found Saraswati amusing but her brand of sexually tinted jokes were not exactly her cup of tea and she politely excused herself stating that she had to rush home to cook lunch for her children.

This is when Saraswati noticed her crouching in the shadows and engulfed her in a bear hug, “Where have you been hiding? I haven’t seen you for ages”, Saraswati squealed in delight. She looked around her and found the young tailor, the middle-aged bookseller and the elderly greengrocer enjoying the drama with a suppressed smile. But Saraswati loved attention and her voice grew louder and gestures wider whenever she thought she was being observed. “Who did you spend your winter vacation with”? Saraswati teased her as she turned red with embarrassment. She tried to wriggle her way out but Saraswati let her go only the condition that she would ‘bare all’ during their ride back home. Besides the farmers were already getting ready to pack their produce and Saraswati had been promised organic greens by the old wizened woman who grew them in her backyard. 

At midmorning, the women had the farmer’s market all to themselves. Except for a few straggling males who had made a quick run to pick up essentials on their spouses’ lists during the official tea break, there were no male shoppers. Most of them had been there as soon as the farmers had opened their baskets and set up their produce to fill up their bags with just picked vegetables and fruits and fish just caught from the river. She avoided the morning rush to avoid making eye contact with her bedraggled pajama clad male neighbours. The cacophony of shouting greengrocers and fisherwomen, the smell of unwashed bodies, the jostling and elbowing, the slush and the grime turned her off. But as luck would have it, she stumbled on the two stragglers she wanted to avoid at all costs, the pompous new recruit who had been sent on an errand by his newly wedded bride and her immediate superior with an unkempt beard and knowing grin. She lowered her eyes and pretended not to notice them, and they played along. But Saraswati spoilt the game by shouting a greeting at the younger man “And how are you young man? Have you found the furniture store?” while flashing a brilliant smile at the middle aged one and she was forced to acknowledge their uncomfortable presence.

But she quickly slipped away to pack some freshly made desserts from the sweet shop. There was no escaping her coworkers in the marketplace, she realized, as she espied the big boss reading out from a handwritten list the items that he needed for his house party. She moved to the other side of the shop so that he wouldn’t notice her and placed her order in a low voice with one of the shop boys. But the payment had to be made at the main counter and she would have to walk past the big boss. She tried to hand over the cash to the shop boy but the owner’s loud inquiry “How much”? betrayed her presence. She managed a quick nod and a hint of a smile in the big boss’s direction when she heard Saraswati calling out. By the time she was out, Saraswati had been able to get updates on the greengrocer’s son, the fishmonger’s daughter, the flowerseller’s wife and the baker’s father. Imagine she even remembered their names. She marveled at Saraswati’s interest in one and all from the richest to the poorest who she came across. She had a kind word and advice for each one of them. She, on the other hand, found conversation a torture and the visit to the cornershop a chore to be gotten over with as soon as possible. In her attempt to duck out of her neighbours’ view, she forgot to collect the most important item for which she had made a visit to the market – her favourite brand of Darjeeling tea.