The wet bustling street

Pratibha Dubey

The smooth and grey shiny street
Falling on the wet road is the sparkling light
enhancing the effect of Rain drops from the last night
In front of me was the bustling street
I was looking at the sight
When a vendor came with sweet
Rapped in a plastic sheet
Pink, tempting cotton candy with sugar coat
I bought one candy stick
While walking in the rustling street
My eyes got caught by a singing group
They were singing some folk song
Dancing around playing gong
Every seller selling products aloud
The loudest the seller, the crowded its teller
Making every buyer their target
The voices were echoes in the market
People were rushing and rustling on the busy street
While it was as hot as burning disc
On sunny sunday of September
The market was set as 'sunday bazar'
There was loot on the market
I heard some vendor shouting - "loot loot sab par hai choot" sale on every product
I got distracted
With the voice and the glimpse of shiny object adorning the shop
My eyes stopped on a rickshaw wala
He was wearing a dusty kurta
Struggling for cash
Juggling around some rice sacks
As I was hypnotised to the site of that juggler
My hypnosis were broken with the auto's horn
The auto driver said to me to make me scold - "madam side hato, jagha do" (madam
please give me space)
As I further walked down the violently, rushing street
I was amazed by seeing a little girl as seller
Selling the earrings of oxidized silver
With different designs of moon and stars
I went to her and asked for price
She smiled and I bought two of them
Just cos of her beautiful smile
On the other side of road I saw a boy
Selling colorful balloons
Holding a baby who kept crying
His brother I assumed
The excitement and energy he had
To sell all of them
Some water I offered to give strength to his voice stem
As the morning turned into Twilight
The streets were light up with side lights
Crowd turned into a massive trong
I could still hear the singing and sound of gong
Heating street had come to the calm
But the hotness of the Market was still on flames
It was a perennial crowdy rustling roads, a shoppers abode.
Got attracted and hungry as the chaat wala set his stall
The smell of tikki and bhaji were catalyst happiness of the soul
The market suddenly got good aroma
You can smell the food in different street
The noise of oil on hot disc
The steam of momo and smoke of hot plate
The laugh and joy got doubled
With arrival of night