Flashback
by Pragati Khanna
It was unlike any place I'd ever been. So many people, rushing here and there, bumping into each other. Women chattering. Men with huge carry bags, rushing after their woman. Some irritated young ladies with their infant like children thinking that what a mistake it was to bring them here, warning them that they won't get anything that they desire to get if they don't obey them. Their kids bursting with curiosity pointing out attractive things. Old ladies talking about the prices of vegetables and fish in past, criticizing the seller. This was when I first visited the fish market. Under constant fear of getting lost I held my mother's finger tightly. Observing every salesman and the crowd there in the market, I already had a quick glance at the growing population of India, which I had heard my dad talk about the other day. I noticed my mother arguing with the fruit-seller over a ten rupee note, which to me appeared as a rectangular sheet of paper which smelled like old socks. My mother's mood got spoiled because of that fruit-seller, so I didn't dare to irritate her. Out of the blues I felt a hand which pulled me and took me to the candy counter, and there came a sound of my daughter requesting me to buy her a new candy bar.
