(C)

I was just letting the last drops of mousambi juice trickle down my throat, wondering how to slake the thirst that was back again, when something tugged at my trousers. It was a small bareheaded urchin with a stack of poorly colored tricolors in his hand.
”Only two rupees” he said.

It is irritating being accosted by an urchin hell-bent on selling you something. Specially since there is no earthly need for it. A little tricolor in my hand as I finished my shopping for the Sunday would look ridiculous.


But it was a hot day. Hot and humid. The sun scorched- blisteringly and even a few minutes out of the air conditioned confines of the swank beauty salon, I had been in, was making me feel dizzy. He had been out for a while, the wet patch on his shirt clinging to his back said so. No with much success either. The stack said it all. And a child, even ingratiatingly irritating a knowing adult canniness on his face, no trace of cherubic childlike innocence, is a child. Something melted. I bent down.

“Two rupees”
”You can have it for 1.50”
Now this I was not going to do. After a hair trim that had cost a hundred and twenty, I was not going to quibble about a mere 50 p. A 50 p for a mere flag. Loose change that I throw away so carelessly.
“No, no”
“Then which on would you like” I could even make a choice from the pitiful stack.
“Anyone, you give me one that you think is good”
He fumbled through the entire lot.
I noticed he little badge on his grimy shirt.
“And this, do you have these too”
Little Priya would probably like one.
“Wait” and he sprinted.

I followed foolishly behind. In the middle of a crowded shopping complex, chasing after an insignificant little urchin, to get something, I really did not need. I mean I am as patriotic as the next person, but I do not need to wave out my patriotism with a badly printed plastic flag, with vermilion not green. But something made me go on.

A cheap stall in a little bye-lane, I would never have known existed. Smelly, dirty, with a few somnambulant dogs scratching lazily. And more tricolors.
“A paper flag, give me that one” At least it had saffron.
His face fell: ”That’s only one rupee”
“Take two for it”
“Badge madam” This was the older brother, a grown up, grimier version of the little imp.
I fumbled in my hand bag-
“No change, only a 10 rupee note, how much is the badge for”
“Five”- then a hastily conferred “No, she is our first customer”
I was given a newspaper bag. And Three-rupee change.
When I opened it at home, it had two flags, one vermilion, the other saffron, and two badges.

I still do not understand the cost break up. But both Priya and I are going to hoist our flags tomorrow. And wear the tricolor badges.