The Scratchy Guava-seller
The other day, I was going somewhere.
I was walking. Or I may have been in the car. Or a cab. Yes, maybe it was a cab.
There was a stop in front of the post-office. So my cabbie waited for the lights to turn. And I noticed a man sitting on the pavement in front of the post-office, perched on a lamp-post. He was selling guavas. The nice, paka yellow ones, the ones I like. Not the green ones which are hard to bite.
Except, that he wasn't doing much guava-selling at that particular moment. He had with him a long blunt knife, which he probably uses it to slice guavas for his road-side customers.
He didn't have any customers right then. It was in the middle of a very hot and sultry afternoon. There weren't many people out on the streets then. Not even in front of the post-office, which is usually very crowded.
He was using his knife, to scratch. The back of his knee. It was not a pretty sight. To watch the grimy, sweaty guava-seller scratching the back of his knee, with his guava-knife, on a crowded street. When I thought of the customers who would be purchasing his fares, later, in the evening, I shuddered.
I was walking. Or I may have been in the car. Or a cab. Yes, maybe it was a cab.
There was a stop in front of the post-office. So my cabbie waited for the lights to turn. And I noticed a man sitting on the pavement in front of the post-office, perched on a lamp-post. He was selling guavas. The nice, paka yellow ones, the ones I like. Not the green ones which are hard to bite.
Except, that he wasn't doing much guava-selling at that particular moment. He had with him a long blunt knife, which he probably uses it to slice guavas for his road-side customers.
He didn't have any customers right then. It was in the middle of a very hot and sultry afternoon. There weren't many people out on the streets then. Not even in front of the post-office, which is usually very crowded.
He was using his knife, to scratch. The back of his knee. It was not a pretty sight. To watch the grimy, sweaty guava-seller scratching the back of his knee, with his guava-knife, on a crowded street. When I thought of the customers who would be purchasing his fares, later, in the evening, I shuddered.
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