MUMBAI ...TRULY THE CITY OF DREAMS

He is my regular fruit vendor, and has been since the past twenty odd years,  I have seen him grow from a single basket of apples and bananas to an array of exotic fruit in the past so many years.

His journey as I have mentally documented it is hard work equals success....nothing in between, maybe the odd corrupt cop and an irrational customer, besides that nothin...just nothing..

The husband wife  make a wonderful team, that most of us educated species can learn from.
They begin their work very early  morning, for most of us we have a luxurious two to three hours to wake up. They begin by  placing the picture of their God between the baskets, sweeping the place and setting up the fruit baskets, which most of the times the wife has procured from the wholesale market and is now offloading it from the tempo.Asked him why does his wife go and not him? the wife quickly replied that he sleeps at around 02/0230 am in the morning handling the various business transactions and hence .....

An hour or two later, and which time our eyes are beginning to open  they are well into the business, the ladies who go to the temple are always buying the fruits.
He has a huge brood, and has happily settled his daughters, of which he speaks with a sparkle in his eyes, surely any father would be proud

His sons two of them one is almost a Chartered Accountant and the other a Mechanical Engineer.His wife is continuously wiping and polishing the fruits the pears, the apples, the peaches, the dragon fruit, correcting him in between our conversations.

The best part about him is his positivity, the gratitude and the compassion and kindness he shows the odd beggar who stretches his hand towards his fruit...

My heart sings a song for Him and His wife as I wish him a happy day...
Knowing that he and his wife have made it in the city of dreams ....Mumbai and nothing equals hard work...
                                            


                                               

 

HAPPY PEOPLE,HAPPY PLACE.

The happiness people find is amazing in whatever sphere of life, one always finds their  HAPPY PLACE.

My visits to the vegetable market is an experience in itself, besides the exotic vegetables and fruits and their country cousins, it is with awe that I watch the happiness on the vendors faces, the light flirtations they have amongst themselves and the connect with each other is a little lesson I have learnt

They tend to the baskets of their produce with utmost care and love, wiping each and every one with a cloth, polishing the apples, till they can blush no more, the glow of the red and yellow peppers makes a sunny day even brighter, the humble green pumpkin (humble no more, check out the price!) has a lovely shade of green to it.

The vendor knows his flock, ask him if his produce is fresh, he kind of gets offended"What did you say?"

He is always willingly to chat with his regulars, and make new ones too, The push and shove are part and parcel of this morning rush in the bazaar, but the way the vendors are connected to each other is a story in itself, just a scream or a shout and a wave of a hand to the other side of the bazaar and he knows he has to transport some carrots quickly to this end to give the waiting customer.

Its always a 'Changing' story they are ever willing to lend out all the notes of loose change to help out their brothers who are haggling with a customer.

Very rarely do you see impatient ones, I had the experience of one such person, I picked a bundle of kotmir, as I was searching in his basket for a non flowering one, vendor saab flew into a fit, and asked me to take what he gave me, naturally I was upset and just walked away, but not without saying my bit to him, telling him how impolite he was and how he should allow his customers to choose, not that vendor saab cared too much with my walk away, I choose not to buy from him, my silent way of protesting.

The happiness that I have witnessed is really wonderful, wonderful to know that whatever place they maybe, (I have written about this in my previous blogs), in a bus, in a train, or even in the saabzi mandi, people find their HAPPY PLACE