A frail woman occupied the footpath of the bustling bazaar. She had laid out her old worn-out saree on the blocks, folded to make a perfect square. On the left side of the saree were cut pieces of newspaper stacked meticulously. They were cut in various sizes. On the right side were earthen pots. In each pot were goodies that she sold. Pieces of tamarind, raw green mangoes, star fruit, and wood apple. In another corner of the saree on a piece of paper was the masala she sprinkled on the fruits before serving. She was a happy old lady. She smiled at everyone before handing over them the fruits.
"Have the mangoes become expensive?" the old man asked the lady, as he looked at the pack the lady readied for him. He wore a soiled dhoti and a once white kurta that had now turned yellowish. Holding his hand was a young girl of six. She was clad in a yellow frock and wore a pair of oversized brown slippers. She patted on the man's waist and pointed towards the raw mangoes. She wanted more.
The lady looked at the old man, and then at the mangoes, she had packed for him. Four pieces for ten rupees. But mangoes were off-season right now. This is what she could afford to give for ten rupees.
She looked at the girl. She was still looking at the mangoes. Smiling at her, the lady added two more pieces. "Thank you so much, but you need not..." the old man began to say. "It's Diwali." the lady said, flashing her toothy smile.
The old man looked at the little girl. As if she had read his thoughts, she opened the bag they had brought to the bazaar. It had a box of mithai inside. She took out two pieces and began to give it to the lady.
The lady looked at the old man with unsure eyes. He grinned and said, "It's Diwali."