10-01-2019, 04:40 PM
"Mamma ice cream!!" seven year old Pinky yelled as she saw the gelato store in the mall and tried to run towards it. But Mansi held her hand firmly.
"Not now, Pinky." she said, dragging her inside the shoe store. "First we have to get your school shoes."
"But I want it now!!" she started jumping up and down. The kid had been a handful from the day she was born.
"Pinky, please don't make a scene!" Mansi said as the dozen or so customers in the store started looking at them.
"Yes ma'am, how can I help you?" a salesman walked up.
"We are here for these shoes for the Vidya Niketan uniform." she handed him the note from Pinky's school.
"Ice cream!" the brat pouted, but at least stopped jumping up and down.
"Yes ma'am, this way." he said.
Mansi took her sulking daughter towards the girl's section. The salesman measured Pinky's feet and then went to the store room in the back.
"Mamma, look at that!!"
Pinky had strolled over to the wall which displayed a lot of pretty designer shoes for little girls. Her mother walked behind her and admired the selection. They were all really pretty. The European sounding brand names suggested they were pricey.
"I want that one!" she reached over and picked up a purple sandal from eye level. Purple had always been her favorite.
"Pinky! Don't go around snatching shoes off the wall."
"But mamma..." she started whining again.
"Really pretty aren't they?" from nowhere, a sales girl materialized and started talking to Pinky. "Would you like to try them on?"
"YES!!" she shouted.
"We really don't need to..." Mansi started protesting, while looking at the wall to see if there was a price display. But the salesgirl was already walking towards the bench with Pinky in tow.
Mansi followed them, annoyed, as the salesgirl sat her daughter down and slipped her tiny feet into the shoes. Pinky stood up and ran to the mirror.
"We are here only for her school shoes." Mansi said to the salesgirl.
"Here you go." the salesman returned with that very box.
"Pinky, come here and try on your school shoes."
But the little one was standing in front of a full length mirror, admiring the designer shoes.
"PINKY!!" her mother raised her voice.
Pinky reluctantly sulked back. The salesman sat her down, took the purple shoes off and slid on her school shoes. Pinky, enamored with the designer shoes, held them in her hands.
"I want these!" she defiantly said.
"We'll see." Mansi didn't have a problem buying her the shoes if they were in her budget range.
Meanwhile the salesgirl had wandered a few meters away, and was talking on the cellphone. While the salesman helped Pinky tie the laces of her school shoes, Mansi walked towards her.
"How much..." she started asking but the salesgirl gestured her to wait.
"Yes, sir. Yes, sir. No problem, sir. The pumps and heels are still..."
She kept talking on the phone for a while. Mansi mimed the sign of money, pointed to the purple shoes and signaled, how much? She nodded and held up five fingers. Okay, five hundred. Not too bad.
Pinky was walking around in her school shoes while still holding on to the purple pair.
"Are they the right fit?"
Pinky nodded, and raising her beloved pair, said,
"I want these too."
"Yes, fine."
Mansi told the salesman to pack both pairs and walked to the counter with Pinky to pay. As they reached there, someone suddenly called out from behind,
"Mansi? Is that you?"
She turned around to see a vaguely familiar face that she couldn't quite place. It belonged to a woman in her 50s, with big designer sunglasses, and dressed in a stylish pantsuit.
"It is you, isn't it?" she came closer and smiled.
"Yes, but..."
"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked with mock disappointment.
"I am sorry. You look familiar but..."
"It's Reena Bajaj! From Happy Colony in Meerut!"
"Oh, right! How are you, aunty?" Mansi finally remembered. Reena was an army wife who had lived in her neighborhood for a couple of years. Their houses weren't very close, nor were their families. But she now remembered,
"I am great. Fancy running into you in here of all places. How long has it been? Almost 12 years."
"I think so." Mansi said, grabbing Pinky's hand as she was trying to reach for the box of shoes.
"I remember you were a pretty 16 year old then. And now look at you, a fully grown woman. And a mom no less!"
She then bent down to look at Pinky.
"And what's your name?"
"Pinky." the little girl distractedly answered.
"Ma'am. Your shoes." the lady behind the counter said, pushing a big bag with the two boxes.
"Thanks. How much is it?"
"It is five thousand six hundred and thirty rupees, including VAT."
"WHAT??" Mansi almost shouted and looked at the receipt. "I thought the purple shoes are five hundred."
"No ma'am, they are five thousand rupees. Esther Michaela." the lady said, flashing a condescending smile.
"I don't have that much cash on me." Mansi truthfully said.
"We accept cards."
"I...left my card at home." she said, not wanting to lose face by admitting that she didn't have a credit card at all. "I'll just take the school shoes for now. And come back for the other ones later."
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!! I WANT MY SHOES!!" Pinky, who had been listening to the exchange intently, started throwing a tantrum.
"Pinky, please behave yourself." Mansi grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her.
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" she flopped down on the floor and started bawling. "I WANT MY SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOES!! I HATE YOUUUUUUUUU!!"
Now everyone in the store was staring.
"It's okay. I'll pay for them." Reena aunty said, handing her card to the clerk.
"What? No way, aunty. I can't let you do that!" Mansi protested. Yes, they had been neighbors just for a little while over a decade ago. But even back then, they weren't friends or anything. Barely acquaintances.
"Nonsense, what are old friends for?" she put her hand on the young mother's shoulder and pressed it.
The clerk, not wanting to let go of the commission, quickly swiped the card. Pinky, who realized that her tantrum had worked, quietly got up from the floor and hugged Reena aunty's leg.
"What do you say?" Mansi asked.
"Thank you." the little brat said.
--
Ten minutes later, the three of them were sitting in the mall food court. Pinky had not forgotten about her ice cream. And Mansi felt obligated to buy Reena aunty coffee after the nice gesture she had made.
"Mamma, can I play in there?" the brat finished her ice cream and asked, pointing towards a ball pit nearby.
"Okay, but stay in my sight. You have been a very bad girl today." Mansi scolded her, but it was like water off a duck's back.
As soon as Pinky was out of an earshot, she turned to Reena aunty.
"Aunty, that was a really nice gesture, but you didn't need to do that."
"Nonsense." she waved away the protests, taking a sip from her cup.
"Pinky is a little brat who thinks tantrums can get her anything she fancies. On Monday when she's at school, I'll return the shoes and give you the money back."
"Mansi, you really don't need to do that. Consider them a gift. The little girl really has her heart set on them."
"She has the memory of a goldfish. In a week, she'll forget about the shoes and start demanding something else." Mansi sighed. "I hate taking her to malls. She just wants me to buy her everything she sees. And really, we can't afford it."
"Hmmm." she said. "What do you do, Mansi?"
"I'm a housewife."
"And your husband?"
"Amar is a history professor."
"Not too much money in teaching, huh?" she sympathetically said.
"It's okay. Not too bad. But we certainly can't afford to buy our little girl five thousand rupee shoes that she'll outgrow in six months."
"I see."
"But seriously aunty, give me your phone number and your address and I will come return the money on Monday."
"Out of the question." she smiled and shook her head. "About returning the money I mean. Trust me, I can afford such indulgences. But we should exchange numbers and meet though. I'd love to catch up in more detail."
She picked up her phone and asked me for her number. She then gave a missed call and Mansi saved her number.
"How is Bajaj uncle?"
"He passed away five years ago. Lung cancer."
"Oh my god! I am so sorry!"
"It's alright. I've gotten used to it by now."
"And how is..." Mansi tried to remember her son's name. He was a couple of years older than her and in college when they lived in Meerut.
"Nilesh? He's doing okay." she said.
"Is he in Mumbai too?"
"No." she said in a tone that suggested she did not want to discuss him.
"Do you live nearby?"
"Yes, Malad West. You?"
"Borivali east. Close to the station."
That's when her phone rang. She looked at the display, frowned a little, and said,
"Excuse me a moment." and walked away.
Mansi sat there looking at her daughter roll around in the ballpit with a few other kids. She was a handful but she was the center of her existence. She wished she could buy her everything she wanted. But money really was tight.
"Not now, Pinky." she said, dragging her inside the shoe store. "First we have to get your school shoes."
"But I want it now!!" she started jumping up and down. The kid had been a handful from the day she was born.
"Pinky, please don't make a scene!" Mansi said as the dozen or so customers in the store started looking at them.
"Yes ma'am, how can I help you?" a salesman walked up.
"We are here for these shoes for the Vidya Niketan uniform." she handed him the note from Pinky's school.
"Ice cream!" the brat pouted, but at least stopped jumping up and down.
"Yes ma'am, this way." he said.
Mansi took her sulking daughter towards the girl's section. The salesman measured Pinky's feet and then went to the store room in the back.
"Mamma, look at that!!"
Pinky had strolled over to the wall which displayed a lot of pretty designer shoes for little girls. Her mother walked behind her and admired the selection. They were all really pretty. The European sounding brand names suggested they were pricey.
"I want that one!" she reached over and picked up a purple sandal from eye level. Purple had always been her favorite.
"Pinky! Don't go around snatching shoes off the wall."
"But mamma..." she started whining again.
"Really pretty aren't they?" from nowhere, a sales girl materialized and started talking to Pinky. "Would you like to try them on?"
"YES!!" she shouted.
"We really don't need to..." Mansi started protesting, while looking at the wall to see if there was a price display. But the salesgirl was already walking towards the bench with Pinky in tow.
Mansi followed them, annoyed, as the salesgirl sat her daughter down and slipped her tiny feet into the shoes. Pinky stood up and ran to the mirror.
"We are here only for her school shoes." Mansi said to the salesgirl.
"Here you go." the salesman returned with that very box.
"Pinky, come here and try on your school shoes."
But the little one was standing in front of a full length mirror, admiring the designer shoes.
"PINKY!!" her mother raised her voice.
Pinky reluctantly sulked back. The salesman sat her down, took the purple shoes off and slid on her school shoes. Pinky, enamored with the designer shoes, held them in her hands.
"I want these!" she defiantly said.
"We'll see." Mansi didn't have a problem buying her the shoes if they were in her budget range.
Meanwhile the salesgirl had wandered a few meters away, and was talking on the cellphone. While the salesman helped Pinky tie the laces of her school shoes, Mansi walked towards her.
"How much..." she started asking but the salesgirl gestured her to wait.
"Yes, sir. Yes, sir. No problem, sir. The pumps and heels are still..."
She kept talking on the phone for a while. Mansi mimed the sign of money, pointed to the purple shoes and signaled, how much? She nodded and held up five fingers. Okay, five hundred. Not too bad.
Pinky was walking around in her school shoes while still holding on to the purple pair.
"Are they the right fit?"
Pinky nodded, and raising her beloved pair, said,
"I want these too."
"Yes, fine."
Mansi told the salesman to pack both pairs and walked to the counter with Pinky to pay. As they reached there, someone suddenly called out from behind,
"Mansi? Is that you?"
She turned around to see a vaguely familiar face that she couldn't quite place. It belonged to a woman in her 50s, with big designer sunglasses, and dressed in a stylish pantsuit.
"It is you, isn't it?" she came closer and smiled.
"Yes, but..."
"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked with mock disappointment.
"I am sorry. You look familiar but..."
"It's Reena Bajaj! From Happy Colony in Meerut!"
"Oh, right! How are you, aunty?" Mansi finally remembered. Reena was an army wife who had lived in her neighborhood for a couple of years. Their houses weren't very close, nor were their families. But she now remembered,
"I am great. Fancy running into you in here of all places. How long has it been? Almost 12 years."
"I think so." Mansi said, grabbing Pinky's hand as she was trying to reach for the box of shoes.
"I remember you were a pretty 16 year old then. And now look at you, a fully grown woman. And a mom no less!"
She then bent down to look at Pinky.
"And what's your name?"
"Pinky." the little girl distractedly answered.
"Ma'am. Your shoes." the lady behind the counter said, pushing a big bag with the two boxes.
"Thanks. How much is it?"
"It is five thousand six hundred and thirty rupees, including VAT."
"WHAT??" Mansi almost shouted and looked at the receipt. "I thought the purple shoes are five hundred."
"No ma'am, they are five thousand rupees. Esther Michaela." the lady said, flashing a condescending smile.
"I don't have that much cash on me." Mansi truthfully said.
"We accept cards."
"I...left my card at home." she said, not wanting to lose face by admitting that she didn't have a credit card at all. "I'll just take the school shoes for now. And come back for the other ones later."
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!! I WANT MY SHOES!!" Pinky, who had been listening to the exchange intently, started throwing a tantrum.
"Pinky, please behave yourself." Mansi grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her.
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" she flopped down on the floor and started bawling. "I WANT MY SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOES!! I HATE YOUUUUUUUUU!!"
Now everyone in the store was staring.
"It's okay. I'll pay for them." Reena aunty said, handing her card to the clerk.
"What? No way, aunty. I can't let you do that!" Mansi protested. Yes, they had been neighbors just for a little while over a decade ago. But even back then, they weren't friends or anything. Barely acquaintances.
"Nonsense, what are old friends for?" she put her hand on the young mother's shoulder and pressed it.
The clerk, not wanting to let go of the commission, quickly swiped the card. Pinky, who realized that her tantrum had worked, quietly got up from the floor and hugged Reena aunty's leg.
"What do you say?" Mansi asked.
"Thank you." the little brat said.
--
Ten minutes later, the three of them were sitting in the mall food court. Pinky had not forgotten about her ice cream. And Mansi felt obligated to buy Reena aunty coffee after the nice gesture she had made.
"Mamma, can I play in there?" the brat finished her ice cream and asked, pointing towards a ball pit nearby.
"Okay, but stay in my sight. You have been a very bad girl today." Mansi scolded her, but it was like water off a duck's back.
As soon as Pinky was out of an earshot, she turned to Reena aunty.
"Aunty, that was a really nice gesture, but you didn't need to do that."
"Nonsense." she waved away the protests, taking a sip from her cup.
"Pinky is a little brat who thinks tantrums can get her anything she fancies. On Monday when she's at school, I'll return the shoes and give you the money back."
"Mansi, you really don't need to do that. Consider them a gift. The little girl really has her heart set on them."
"She has the memory of a goldfish. In a week, she'll forget about the shoes and start demanding something else." Mansi sighed. "I hate taking her to malls. She just wants me to buy her everything she sees. And really, we can't afford it."
"Hmmm." she said. "What do you do, Mansi?"
"I'm a housewife."
"And your husband?"
"Amar is a history professor."
"Not too much money in teaching, huh?" she sympathetically said.
"It's okay. Not too bad. But we certainly can't afford to buy our little girl five thousand rupee shoes that she'll outgrow in six months."
"I see."
"But seriously aunty, give me your phone number and your address and I will come return the money on Monday."
"Out of the question." she smiled and shook her head. "About returning the money I mean. Trust me, I can afford such indulgences. But we should exchange numbers and meet though. I'd love to catch up in more detail."
She picked up her phone and asked me for her number. She then gave a missed call and Mansi saved her number.
"How is Bajaj uncle?"
"He passed away five years ago. Lung cancer."
"Oh my god! I am so sorry!"
"It's alright. I've gotten used to it by now."
"And how is..." Mansi tried to remember her son's name. He was a couple of years older than her and in college when they lived in Meerut.
"Nilesh? He's doing okay." she said.
"Is he in Mumbai too?"
"No." she said in a tone that suggested she did not want to discuss him.
"Do you live nearby?"
"Yes, Malad West. You?"
"Borivali east. Close to the station."
That's when her phone rang. She looked at the display, frowned a little, and said,
"Excuse me a moment." and walked away.
Mansi sat there looking at her daughter roll around in the ballpit with a few other kids. She was a handful but she was the center of her existence. She wished she could buy her everything she wanted. But money really was tight.
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