Rashika. (Part-1)

Rashika spent her childhood days strolling around the streets of her locality. Every now and then baba arrived with a packet of orange flavored lozenges which were then not available in sealed wrappers. Baba owned a tailor shop nearby. He loved to stitch but Rashika was never happy that his profession was that of a tailor. Rashika had always seen him talk about trams more than of clothes. Since 20 years, the tiny tailor shop standing amidst the busy lanes of Shyambazar had always seen flocks of customers coming in and out. The opening pavement on the opposite side was flocked with bus commuters. The tram depot was nearby and every time Talib uncle passed round the corner, he used to ring his bell and wave at Baba from the driver’s cabin.

There was a small road on the immediate left of the shop that divided the lane into two halves. Rashika always took the right lane with her mother everyday to arrive at the small temple situated at the old junction where buses came to halt. The other lane was always a mystery for her. Mother had strictly warned her not to venture there.

 Baba had a thing with excessive brightness. He never liked the government install large helium bulbs across the street that divulged into four wide roads. He never complained about it but it was just that his face showed a gloom every time he watched the light flash across the streets turning the colorful scenario into deep white texture. Perhaps baba liked the yellow ones more. Baba was always concerned about the dirt on the statue of Bose riding his horse erected at the junction of the four way intersection. When Rashika said her Baba to clean it himself, baba smiled at the child and handed her another toffee. It was his own way of answering Rashika. Everytime.

(pic-http://swarnalidreams.blogspot.in/2012/03/guest-3-meet-swastik.html)

The three attendants at baba’s shop never complained no matter how busy it got especially during the festive season. Readymade garments were already making a mark but the shop managed well with passing years. The tiny shed over the shop needed urgent repair. The entrance however was well maintained with glass cabinets displaying the finest fabric in the market. The entrance had a glass panel door so as to avoid overcrowding during peak seasons. Baba thought it wasn’t needed anymore. There was hardly any crowd like before. Rashika however loved the glass panel for she always used to peep inside before entering the shop. Whenever baba noticed her glancing through the translucent pane, he rendered a smile.

Customers now had different preferences. The old folks were busy crossing fingers over the cotton roll to check the quality, some people on the counter were bargaining for a deal, then there were college teens who had applied for some job and were searching formals. Kids were less in number now. The new attractive market that had developed over the walking lane flashed big fluorescent white lights over shinning, colorful garments of kids. Parents preferred those shops now. When baba took Rashika to buy a frock on her birthday, she refused to buy from those shops and told baba to stitch one for her. Baba again smiled with the toffee in hand. She was gifted with a red frock draped with ribbons on the sides which she always held between her fingers while walking. Her mother had warned her not to use the frock everyday for it would get smeared in dirt. Rashika never cared. Baba had gifted her that frock. Let alone baba decide!