‘When was the last time you were happy?’ This question was thrown at me by a phoochkawala of Nadra like a finger-wagging class teacher.
I was groping for an answer. I really couldn’t recall instantly when I was really happy though the festival time happened to go past me just a couple of days back.
During the pujo days I enjoyed a long drive in my car. The days inevitably started and concluded with lip- smacking foods at Highway Mirchi.
Still I couldn’t get myself find out the time when I was happy.
‘You’re sweating as I ask of happiness!’ The phoochkawala said with a half-smile as he dipped crispy phoochkas in a pot of tamarind water. The shredded green chillies were stirred in the water. They started floating with some renewed verve in the exceptionally clean steel pot that glittered in the ‘toony bulbs’ that went off and on rhythmically in the upper part of phoochka cart as evening was looping around. A Kumar Shanu number was playing in tiny speakers of the cart bringing back the lilting melodies of the nineties.
My quota of four phoochkas was done and I handed out a slightly creased ten- rupee note to the phoochkawala.
I hastened to my Activa 5G that I parked at the other end of road that went towards the direction of Kalna;the evening being slipped into night quite fast.
‘Dada, hold on… Just a minute…’ The phoochkawala shouted as I was about to kick- start my scooter as the Activa refused to start on battery.
‘Take this hibiscus plant.’ The phoochkawala downed a potted plant on the footrest rubber mat of the scooter.
‘I give away plants to my first-time customers.’ He said.
‘I know you people live in apart-ments and live apart from each other. Keep this plant with you. It’ll give you some happy company.’ The phoochkawala signed off.
I didn’t correct him that I live in my house.
Reaching home I hurried up to the roof and put down the pot there.
From next morning I watered it even if it rained to make sure the plant remembered me.
This morning the plant flowered.
The red hibiscus swayed in mild breeze.
‘Thank you, phoochkawala,’ I said as I ran my fingers over the flower that seemed to smile at me.
I got the answer. I must be happy.