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Veggie delight

Manning a vegetable stall,our correspondent tips the scales right

Manning a vegetable stall,our correspondent tips the scales right
Debu Mondol,my mentor for the day,is a man of few words. His knowledge of vegetables may border towards the sublime yellow-skinned cucumbers actually are the sweetest,never buy an okra whose tip doesnt snap off in the first try,but Mondol,who has been a vegetable vendor at a north Kolkata market for more than 25 years,is definitely not a peoples person. On a muggy April dawn,as I watch him set up his shop he refuses our help,my attempts at building a rapport with Mondol is met with non-committal hmms and steely nos Should I hold the balance scale like this ? Hmm. Should I try and chat up the customer? No.

A day ago,when I approached him with the proposal of having me as an apprentice for a few hours,his reaction was an emphatic yes. What then is the problem today I wonder? Does he not approve of my shorts? I cant let you man the counter for more than 10 minutes, he snarls,cutting short my reverie. Im supposed to observe Mondol at work for about an hour and then,when the peak sabzi bazaar crowd has been dealt with,I can man the stall for 10 minutes.

Mondol takes his place behind mounds of gleaming tomatoes,green peas and cucumbers. I wait for the customers to troop in,instead there is a trickle. Our first customer,who arrives a good 15 minutes after we opened shop,is a matronly lady who seems to be a regular. She smiles at Mondol,he nods back a man of few words remember? and then she enquires about the price of the brinjals. She expertly makes her selection and hands them over to Mondol who then proceeds to weigh them I keenly observe the way he holds the scale. She pays for them without haggling,then moves away. This is a cakewalk,I tell myself,no haggling,and no dealing with accusations of cheating with weight. Sigh. If only I knew. Within minutes,we were inundated with screaming,sweating,threatening and cajoling customers. Each of them had some problem or the otherthe palak look limp,capsicum are overpriced,there is something wrong with the weighing scale,I dont have change.

Im almost wincing in panic,though Im little more than a spectator to this psychological warfare it takes more than patience to deal with overzealous shoppers,but Mondol is cooler than any cucumber he sells. He deftly convinces his customers that the palak were picked by his very hands that very morning from the fields behind his home. The capsicum,at Rs 50 a kilo,is the cheapest in the market,he claims. And to add a little bit of drama to the show,he makes the doubting customer weigh the ware at another stall to prove the accuracy of his scale.

Now I know why Mondol is a man of few words. Suddenly,like they arrived,the swarm of customers disappear the peak hour is over Im told. The market is almost empty now,save a stray late shopper or two. Mondol looks at me and makes way. I need no bidding; I shift to where he was sitting,carefully so as to not upset any of the vegetable heaps. Minutes tick away and people pass by displaying no interest in our wares. And then suddenly,there is hope in the form of an amiable housewife with a toddler in tow. She stops by our stall and eyes me suspiciously. God,I should have taken off my eyebrow ring,I tell myself. Luckily,the gleaming heap of tomatoes proves to be a distraction. She helps herself to a basket and makes careful pickings . Ek kilo, she says. I hold the scale up and weigh the ware. I look at Mondol for approval,he nods and mouths Rs 15. Pandrah rupaiya, I beam. She hands me the exact change and walks away. As I breathe a sigh of relief,Mondol smiles at me for the first time.

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