Traffic

The late morning traffic is its usual self. All big vehicles try and get as close as they can to the traffic signal, something that guarantees them quick passage. Smaller vehicles squeeze in between the big ones, and the smallest ones fill up the tiniest of places, with total disregard for a sense of personal space and the law.

The new cars, I like them. They don’t have fumes coming out of them that are so black and sticky. But then, they are pretty snobbish too. They don’t buy my stuff. I think they think it is beneath them to buy from people like me — they prefer the big stores like the ones we saw last Sunday when Guna and I went to Malad. They have large glass walls from where you can see what’s inside. We saw it from the street, the guys in the blue uniform didn’t allow us near the store.

Raka told me this is the time to sell flags. He is right, many people buy these flags. There is one more day in the year they do this, I don’t remember when. I like these two days before this flag day. I am able to make more money. I usually go for the cars which have children, if they are about my age, much better; they usually buy these small flags and put them on the car’s dashboard.

I wish they would buy flags all year long. I could buy that book with all that money.

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