everyman

I sat up straight on my stool to look at them, wondering if they were lost. The man in the group held a crumpled paper cup in his right hand while he dug the other into his pocket. The women climbed out of the rickshaw and surveyed the neighbourhood. The stares of a few ten strangers made them feel like perhaps they were out of place here. The rickshaw driver handed over what looked like two ten rupee notes to the man who then folded them hurriedly and stuffed them into his wallet. He looked a bit lost as his eyes scanned the area. His hand held on to the cup anxiously. It was empty but I could say with certainty it was probably filled with rabri from Shankarji's shop just until about a minute ago.

I've been to Shankarji's. It's not my favourite rabri falooda but he prepares them to order unlike the other storekeepers here who just store them in the refrigerator until a customer comes along and asks for it. The ice Shankariji uses is questionable though. Was it Pankaj who told me that? No, it was Ramesh. He swore he'd never drink anything from Shankarji's again ever since he saw that kid from Prakash's shop drop off the ice that morning sometime around Holi. Ramesh lived next door to Prakash and he knew where Prakash sourced the ice from. Prakash didn't own any freezers. He paid some four hundred rupees every night to use the meat freezer at Ahmed's. He didn't own any containers either. Ahmed rented out his poultry crates for two hundred something extra. So, Prakash would fill up some three drums of water and load them onto a rickshaw and ride it to Ahmed's where he would then transfer them into the crates and leave them to freeze for six hours. Are six hours enough for ice to form?

Ramesh seemed confident when he revealed that Prakash did not wash the containers before he filled them with water. He thought it wouldn't be long before someone fell ill after having the falooda. Does Prakash not wash the containers to save time? Does water really need a minimum of six hours to freeze?

I don't know how long Prakash has been supplying the ice to Shankarji's and it has been over a month since I last had anything from there. Maybe it was the same ice and my stomach handled it. This man doesn't seem like his stomach will be able to handle it. I looked at his hands as he passed the cup on to his left hand. I called out, “Bhaiya!”, and stretched my left arm out and pointed towards the other side of the road. He looked at where I was pointing and then at me, smiled, and silently mouthed what seemed like a thank you before walking over all the trash on the road towards where my fingers had just pointed. He raised his left hand and let go off the cup into the green receptacle which had a sticker that said, 'Dry Waste Only'.

He was looking for a dustbin. They were clearly out of place here.