‘I told you not to entertain her,’ he told Gappi.

‘She said she was dying of thirst, so I gave her water and she wanted to sit and drink it. Now you are serving her sweets!’ Gappi’s accusatory tone irked him.

Jaswinder gave the insolent boy a stare. Gappi was getting too big for his boots!

Rascal!

The old woman’s nasal voice rose. ‘The idiots don’t get it! I saw Goddess Durga in my dream a week ago! She said I was going to have a granddaughter soon, name her after me!’

Jaswinder rolled his eyes, ‘Next time she pays you a visit, just ask her what colour should I paint my shop walls so that it will turn out to be auspicious and increase my sales!’

Gappi and a few patrons tittered and that enraged the old woman.

‘You rascal!’ the old woman spouted in anger and turned her beady eyes to the customers in the shop. Wagging her index finger she warned them, ‘Don’t take his sweets, he reuses the oil and the houseflies have nested on his ingredients.’ Saying this and muttering profanities, she slunk out of his shop.

A patron, almost ready to bite into a succulent creamy pedha, stopped midway.

‘You will see, she will be Durga, and she is meant for great things!’

The customer eyed the old woman as she dawdled away. With a jaundiced eye he studied his sweet. A radio played a Punjabi song somewhere inside the shop.

Jaswinder cleared his throat, ‘Don’t mind her, she is senile. So you were saying, three-kilo barfi, and two-kilo jalebi? Should I get them packed?’

‘No, actually, I am not sure, I will just confirm with my wife and get back.’ The patron scurried out, not wanting to look at Jaswinder but clearly a little put off by the old lady’s insinuations.

Jaswinder abused the old lady under his breath. ‘Next time that old hag saunters into the shop, just shoo her away!’ He ordered the lanky teen, Gappi, who was least bothered with what was going on between the master, the old lady and the patrons. He wanted to get it over with and go fuck the boss’s wife whilst he was ostensibly helping her with chores. She gave him nice food after the sex. Bliss!

The old lady continued her jabbering all the way to the end of the lane, annoying Jaswinder no end. It made the boy smirk. Thankfully for Jaswinder, she turned the corner and he could breathe a sigh of relief.

Just then a worried-looking man, Kartar, in his early thirties, robust and well-built, wearing a white crumpled kurta over his lungi, entered the shop. His turban was half done and beads of sweat glistened on his face.

‘Sorry, have you seen my mother, Veerji, she has run away again!’

‘Yes! She has gone that way! And why don’t you keep her chained! She is a menace!’ Yelled Jaswinder as the son, Kartar Singh Kahlon, sprinted out of the shop, hoping to find his absconding mother in the bustling market.