Rahul goes shopping

Year 1991

“Rahul!!! Go get me some sugar from the nearby shop” shouts my mom from the kitchen. “Why cant you go get it?” I retort. Not that I did not want to, it was just that never really bought anything on my own till that day. I was filled with more of trepidation than laziness. My mom was already having a bad day, and I knew there was no use haggling with her over the issue. So off I go, holding on tight to a one rupee coin in my sweaty palm, and ambulating gingerly along the familiar road to that nearest shop. Mind you, I being a keralite, and having started to live in the suburbs of Madras, now Chennai, I was not well versed with the language of Tamil.

I reach the shop, and I struggle to be seen by the shopkeeper, for unlike now I was really small then. I stand on my toes and stretch ahead and finally manage to catch the eye of the shop keeper, and manage a meek “ ara kilo chakkara thange”, give me half a kilo of sugar. Though I was not too good with math during that time, I knew that I was supp to get twenty paise in return for one kg of sugar cost 1.5 rupees, besides mom had told me I would get that much in return. I handed him the money and was waiting eagerly to get the balance, for I had almost finished my first transaction, or let us call shopping. That was when the most dreadful thing happened, the shopkeeper the gave the money that I had given to him to the person standing next to me. “How dare he give away my money to this stranger?” I wondered, and before I realised, I was screaming at the top of my voice “ath ennote rupa, ennote rupa”, that is my one rupee, my one rupee. I did not know what took hold of me that day, but I sure know I made a big fuss out of it. “shari pa, ithu vanthu nee kodutha oru rupa than, aana evangalode balance, purinjko kanna”, yes the money was given by you, but this is now the balance of this gentleman, the shopkeeper was trying to make me understand. But no matter what, I was not ready to let go of the money I had given. I was on the verge of tears when I snatched the one rupee coin from the gentle man besides me and ran home, not buying the sugar or not caring to what those people had to say. On reaching home, with watery eyes, and after having recited the whole episode to the best of my abilities in the most animated of ways, I was expecting my mom to pat me on my back and say “well done son”. But instead, I threw her into a fit of laughter.