Sugar Daddy

Some of us are more famous for being directionally challenged, than successfully letting go of ‘things’ from their handbag. In my case, the famousness extends to both, in no particular order. As some may generously describe there is a higher permutation for the earthen plates to realign till the destination finds me v/s me seeking out the destination.

Landmarks, they say, are an easy trick. So I go by landmarks. Large neon signs, the smell of a bakery round the corner, a hut at the curb. But it’s not always that easy I discovered late one night, when the neon sign was out of order rendering the hut into darkness, as it stood still next to a lonely bakery out of business!

But life’s not always that harsh. I have found solace in one such landmark that has claimed to challenge the earthen plates and has not moved for the last 20 yrs. A sugarcane cart. A 5 ft man has been selling sugarcane juice from his manually operated cart for as long as the last 20 yrs. As a lone warrior he talks about how he’s been around long enough to experience the changing topography, depleting ozone layer, increase of methane in the atmosphere and other such decade defining events.
The first thing that caught my fancy about this arrangement was not his expertise on life but the fact that in today’s technologically advanced era he still uses a manual juice extraction machine. An electronically operated one would churn out twice the amount for the time it takes him to swing a whole 360 degrees on his handle for 1 cane.

After getting past my initial expression of ‘are you for real?!!’ I was deeply moved by what I thought was an attempt to save the environment. I felt sorry for the situation and did the unthinkable (no! not buy him a machine. Though the thought did cross my mind once, and then I moved on very quickly). Feeling pressured to bond, as I quietly sipped on my tall glass in his company I launched upon him my array of questions.

Very soon all my suggestions were being scoffed upon and run down into the rising dust. “Your fingers never come back” was the reason for his decade long association with an obsolete machine. “the electronic on machine sucks your hand in, if you get too close” . If not love for environment its love for the limbs, equally important. Suggestion number two: “maybe you should try taking the afternoons off, it’s so hot, you stand without a shade and still serve into the wee PM’s.”
“best business in the afternoon, when the schools and colleges get off” . Strike two!
“Ok what about the monsoons?” I wondered. That’s when a blue print of a shed and ‘yearly plan B’ came into swing. Was I not listening when he said he’s been around! Actually it was more of a relief to not hear the words ‘shut shop’, cause I’d be lost without him.

Not that there is a left or a right turn situated on the plain he stands. And not that I can easily tell a left from a right without being given two tries, but the close proximity of his cart to home, makes me feel a little..well..less lost, a little familiar with my surrounding.
Day in and day out as I leave or return to my humble abode, there is a strange security in seeing him around. I subconsciously find myself looking out for him to gauge how much further away from home I ‘m. The sight of his cart seems to inject the last dose of adenosine triphosphate when a much prescribed 10 mins evening walk begins to break me. He’s become synonymous with ‘being home’.