A big bazaar

I sped out in the afternoon today after dashing madly through a story and its various crises, major and minor, lots of editing, some page-making and a whole lot of strategising and panicking. I was headed for the local supermarket, in search of interesting veggies, some sundry groceries and some lunch, a situation that had become dire only because the food in the office cafeteria was so dreadfully bad that my stomach threatened mutiny every time I put some of the vittles available downstairs into it. So I hailed myself a cab, glowered with steely eyes at the driver who leered at me in his carefully adjusted rear-view mirror and chatted with the friend who came with me.

We got there and found the supermarket mercifully not too crowded. We could walk through the aisles comfortably enough, managing to swing our baskets without emasculating any of the helpers standing around chatting about life, the cricket score and the cost of living index. I trotted purposefully around, collecting bits and pieces in my basket, knowing what I wanted, what I should want and what I should never ever consider looking at, leave alone buying. The first included cheese, the second, greens, the third, chocolate cookies.

My stop at the vegetables counter was the longest. I browsed bovinely through the leafy greens, examining methi, looking at spinach, gazing longingly at a leek (which was gazing meanly back at me from its shelf out of my reach), peered into a mass of curly lettuce and backed rapidly away from a turnip leaf that seemed to be moving of its own volition. Crying craven, I loaded my basket with cut and processed veggies – corn, bitter gourd, cauliflower, beans and more – and then gathered up bean sprouts, mushrooms, brightly coloured peppers and carrots. I did look long and hard at a zucchini, but it was so convoluted that it awed me into retreat.

Finding my friend in the slowly increasing crowds was not easy, but we managed to make contact. The lines at checkout were mercifully short and the service surprisingly quick and efficient. We grabbed a cart, loaded on our packages and headed for a cab. En route, I found myself a salad, talked my buddy out of heading for the sweet shop across the path and bundled her into a taxi for the office. Protesting wildly, she lectured me bitterly all the way back, saying that it was her last chance to binge before she started a rather stringent diet and that she would never forgive me for making her forego a treat she well deserved and would now dream about and crave for the rest of the day…week….month?

So today I drive myself back home with a carload of groceries. Well….veggies anyway. Tomorrow, who knows, the new driver who presented himself to my father this morning could take over my life.