|One post every day in November|
The light of the street lamps roused me and I woke up to find Dara busy in displaying his produce. The job requires dexterity and, as always, I was amazed at how competently he managed it. I lounged around but he neither abused me for being lazy nor kicked me out of my comfortable spot in one of the larger baskets. I know others who are not as lucky as I am.
As I watched, Dara, the vegetable seller, set about his task of positioning the mounds of vegetables in a manner calculated to catch the eye of the customer. Other vegetable sellers just dumped their vegetables on gunny bags on the ground. Not Dara. When he was done with his magic, you would be treated to the sight of mini-pyramids of tomatoes, capsicum, cucumbers, cabbage, lady’s finger, beetroot, carrots, French beans and baby potatoes. Even people who didn’t leave home with the intention of buying vegetables were mesmerized at the sight of those mounds so skilfully placed and ended up buying a quarter or a half-kilo of this or that vegetable.
The entire setup is a feast of colour and a riot of odours, and that I say not only of Dara’s stall but of this entire municipal vegetable market. For those who live life led by their senses, as I do, what can be better? I feel uplifted each time I look at Dara’s stall. Dara’s behaviour reassures me that there is a lot of good in the world, and the lush greens, rich oranges and earthy browns of his skilfully displayed produce tell me that we live in a world of abundance and that everything is provided by a kindly providence.
Dara is good to me. He lets me have a treat of a few squishy tomatoes that have had a hard time in the truck on the way here. The lycopene in the tomatoes is a rich source of Vitamin C and helps me keep my vision razor sharp. It is this wonder element that enables me to see mice in the dark. I see them very well, but I don’t give chase, much less eat them. If you had to choose between tomatoes and mice, which would you go for.
Nor am I, contrary to popular belief, very fond of milk. Being lactose intolerant, the mere sight of milk makes me want to throw up.
The vet at the municipal animal clinic told Dara that I should not be eating a vegetarian diet alone. He said that I am getting soft, and that in order to be the nimble, lithe creature that humans believe we are, I must receive my fair share of meat and fish. I scratched his face. That will teach him to make value judgements about others.
I won’t let anything come between me and my veggies.
This is not quite to my satisfaction, but, hey, at least I blogged.