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Souvenir of the Season

The place where I lived, would bring a plethora of things, the marching season. From shopping rainy shoes, rain coats to repairing broken umbrellas. By the time the schools would  reopen, the monsoon would full flegedly begin. And, to protect us from rains, the aim was to get all of the said above.

We stayed in Tivim, then, and the closest market was Mapusa. In our vernacular, we called it “Mhapshya”. Here, the markets are assigned days. A market will be full flegedly on whichever day it falls on. My father would take us to Mapusa on Fridays. Friday was not just a day to shop groceries but we would love walking through each street and its corners. Strolling by the market, I would see foreigners hopping in.  As a kid, I find it very funny how the local vendors in their everyday language, would try to convince them for higher prices. The foreigners in return would  pay them well.

As I hold my father’s hand and walk by the streets, the colorful, fancy rainy shoes hanging on the stands- especially the ones with tiny heels, fascinated me. My father, on the contrary, was never an impulsive buyer. He would first take me to the whole of the market and then end up in a shop called “Bata”. He, then, believed that it is the only brand which is the superior of all (and he continues to believe the same). I would not understand the “brand thing”, then,  yet personally, never liked any of the patterns there, for I used to be allured with the street shops much. Untill 5th grade, I studied in a convent school, which went by the rule “only black shoes”. Another challenge was, I would seldom get a shoe of my size. Some shopkeepers would smirk at us and tell my father may be he needs to place a special order because my feet is “extra small”. But, thanks to Bata. There, I would get a black color sandal with the right size.

Here it doesn’t just rain but at times flood making people’s lives difficult to move.  I remember something relating this. I was in fourth grade and my class teacher had assigned me a small piece of talk to deliver on the 15th August. That day, it was raining torrentially. As a 9 year kid, I reasoned it was “Okay” to bunk the school that day. Next day, my teacher called me and inquired about my absence. She, of course was upset at me, but same time made me understand how important it was to attend the 15th August.
And since that day,  untill my schooling, I  never missed a 15th August, 26th January, and 19th December.

Today, while walking across the market, the market which falls on Monday, I saw some parents hustling to get their kids rainy shoes, rain coats, umbrellas- all of which that would protect their kids from rains.

Safe rains!


Priya Dalvi

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