Twang..twang..twang...
The thin, mattress repair wallah announced his arrival in the neighborhood.
We watched as he deftly strung his way through our lumpy mattress, his brows knit in concentration.
Clouds of wispy cotton covered the courtyard, as he skilfully twanged his huge, wide instrument with the enthusiasm of a musician practicing his guitar.
Hours passed.
Time to thread the mattress back again.
Finally he was done.
Lo and behold! Soft, fluffy bedding lay before us, tempting us to jump into it and snooze off into oblivion.
Tuk..tuk...
Afternoons found girls busy pounding away mehendi leaves to a paste in the courtyard.
We plucked them from the mehendi plant in the backyard.
A small stone was all that was needed.
Then the fine paste was applied carefully, palms kept outstretched till it dried.
The thrill of palms turning red after its application was contagious.
Ting..ting..
He pushed his cart deliberately and slower than usual, to tempt us kids.
Time for some of his stuff.
The ice cream man.
Knock..knock...
This house came in our way, on the way to school.
My friend, Sharada and I knocked on it and ran away.
Giggling, we imagined the irritation on the owner's face as she opened the door, only to find none.
We did it only twice, to the woman's good fortune.
Putter..putter..putt..
A luna and its good looking occupant stopped suddenly in front of us, as we girls were engrossed in deep conversation.
Flashing an embarrassed smile at us, he quickly tied his lungi, which had inadvertently slipped (or was it done on purpose?)
He then restarted his luna and sped off.
Phut..phut..phut..
Reticent Nair Uncle on his motorbike.
He sat erect and confident on his prized possession as he sped away with wife and kids in tow.
Everyday.
This man behind the counter at the flour mill looked prematurely old.
He was covered with flour all over, with not even his eyelashes spared. Scary!
With the deafening sound of grinding around him and the place covered with flour dust, how he managed to keep his sensibilities intact is beyond me!
Chalaaa....
The elderly Sikh watchman dismounted from his bicycle and looking at us toddlers playing nearby said this.
We were so terrified.
He looked dangerous with his big mustache and turban.
He's going to catch us, we thought.
We all ran as fast as our little legs could carry us.
To the safety of our homes.
