There is this road which opens into another perpendicular to the former. Similar to majority of the roads constructed everywhere. I sometimes use this road to go to a nearby market or to buy fruits from one of these handcarts. There is a handcart amongst some others which dot this road. In the evenings, this is generally manned by a boy about ten years old. I address him as 'chotu', after observing that adults generally address young boys by this word.
Though he is just another young boy, i tend to think that this boy is endearing. I walk to him, unknowingly point at bitter gourds, ask him the price of cucumbers. He then corrects me and asks me if i want bitter gourds. I tell him 'No, i want cucumbers, how much is one kg?' He quotes a price and looks at me. The eyes are lined with kohl, a shining face, the shine added by some perspiration and some oil that has seeped in from his shock of dishevelled oiled hair.
I say nothing and i start walking away. He calls behind me 'Didi, come here'. He lowers the price and waits to see if i turn around and head back to the cart and buy it from him. What exuded from him was pure childhood innocence. Maybe, the thought of exchanging a few words with him made me go near his cart, even though i didn't want to buy anything from him. Maybe.