Thursday, January 8, 2009

My life- street business

In the early morning recently in Katmandu there are less numbers of micro- buses seen in comparison to summer season. Basically in January kathmanduties do not come out along the road due to the sever winter. Bus drivers and conductors perhaps feel in vain to call people in empty road full of mist. That is why they do not.
In rush, students pass by, at once they disappear, no one except a bundle by the road side waiting for clients- I really hate winter season. The heart- trembling cold in the early mornings who know my pain how hard it is. This is no one but street business life.

I walk out at 4:30 from my house carrying basket on my back, in it there are biscuits, Chui gum, cigarette, chocolate and so on walking twenty five minutes on foot I would able to reach at my business place where I do sell things.

My name is grand mother. All people who come to buy I am called grand mother. ‘ hajur aama kati ho yasko? They ask prices’. Yasko 5 rupaya ho nani. My grandchildren are everywhere in the nation. Once upon the time I was sister for all, and then turn to mother and now a grandmother. Time has faded me up without knowing.
Unknowingly my life faced many changes on this street business life. I know none. In initial phase, I had no ideas about customer services the way to deal with. The prime time of my life had on the road. I was happy too. My business was going on very well. Gathering all around, next to my shop, at tea shop people would have been seen chatting and having fun. Many of them would come to smoke cigarette. I knew that they were not only to buy cigarette, rather they were to talk with me. Gradually I came to know more about latter that what on earth people think. I got blushed with angry. I want to ask questions to them. But I cannot though I wanted to.

Now days I have been drawn in deep thought. I have begun to analyze people. Different types of people having different nature more than thousands come and go in a day. I will not see people alike. Where do those people go? I get surprised that about fifty percent don’t get back from. No one knows this miniature creature. Across the road there is a tree I don’t even know its name but I know that it is only eyewitness for me. It has tolerated several winter seasons without any complaint just watching that new life would start in the spring season.

My life does not have even a spring through out the phase of my life. The way of looking is changed. It has been a child a father of today. In yesteryears who called me sister have been grandparents of today, however, my business is same, my basket is not changed, and the way I wear the clothes are same. My time table is not changed; it will start from five o’clock and in the evening until it becomes dark. (A torch light holding on the hand, carrying on the basket on my back going home back), this is my life- street business.

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