The Pani Puri Seller

The mall was crowded with people. Just at the entry gate was a bus stop where people waited for public transport. Inside in the coffee house were coffee lovers, friends, lovers and family; beside which was famous cigarette shop of the mall, where bunch of college students puffed expensive brands. At Adlabs counter, people stood in line to purchase movie tickets. Watchman at the door looked tired by his tedious job of opening and closing the glass door, his colleague checked belongings so carelessly that one could easily sneak-in even with weapons in his bag.
The fancy restaurant on the first floor had bluish glow. Intoxicated fumes mixed with smoke and alcohol completely filled its space, and people appeared as shadows in the background. Everyone talking at peak of their voice. Absolute chaos!
I quickly came out of the restaurant. But it disordered the peace of my mind. I was terribly hungry, I hadn’t eaten since morning. My eyes began searching and my stomach began screaming for food. The signboard arrow pointed towards 2nd floor “The Food Court”. I just cannot control hunger. But more than I was hungry, I felt suffocated, so I climbed downstairs as my lungs demanded urgent need for fresh air.
I walked out of campus and started breathing heavily. It was 8pm and it was Malik’s birthday. Here I was waiting for my lazy friends, who still hadn’t left. “Will have to wait for another 40 minutes”, I told myself looking at the traffic conditions.
Light filled every corner of campus, inside and outside, to attract crowd. The font of advertisement on the hoardings were huge including the ones for movies. All these attractions made the mall noticeable from miles away.
People inside the campus looked slow and satisfied, where as just outside the wall people rushed towards bus, rickshaw and some waited to cross the street. I felt low but kept looking around and walked towards the Samosa shop outside the mall where group of people in their 40s sipped tea and smoked cigarette. Beside the samosa shop, I noticed an old man selling paani puri in “candle light” dark. He looked weak and poor. It always makes me feel sad when I look at people in their old age struggling to earn money, when there is no surety of anything. He stared at me for a while and asked me if I wanted to eat paani puri. I changed my mind and walked towards him.
Quickly he picked one steel plate from the pile and rubbed it with cloth, although it looked unclean as it was. I asked him to avoid onion in the masala, but the poor man hadn’t prepared any. Other paani puri shops nearby had tube light, masala and more over customers.
“It’s totally okay bhaiya”, I tried to make him feel that it didn’t mattered to me, “just don’t make it too spicy.” He smiled back, took one puri, dipped it in a small chatni pot followed by large paani pot and offered me. Chatni and Paani flowed through his hands and drops splashed on his preparation table, which looked very unhygienic. As I finished eating, he asked me if the paani puri was good, and repeatedly asked the same question 5 more times after each of the remaining 5 puris. I remember a curious look on his face which would turn into smile every time when he heard, “Its perfect!” After eating all 6 puris, I offered him 10 bucks and requested him to keep the change.
“You are the best customer Sir. Let me offer you one more puri,” he insisted and made me one more puri with entire honesty. It reminded me of the birthday party that I was going to attend. More than I felt pity for the old man, I felt guilty inside for uselessly wasting money on such parties.
I took 100 rupee note from my pocket and asked him for change. I saw him checking his pocket, then running from shop to shop asking for change. I silently left the place with prayers in my mind.