Tea stalls used to open their shops. They would start igniting their big earthen stoves with dungcake, charcoal and wood. They would sit and fan it. The smoke used to have a certain flavor which mixed with the fresh air would flare my nostrils.
Sudha Dairy vendors would be receiving their quota of milk for the day, almost in the dark, to sell. Some students on their bicycles or walking towards their respective tuition classes.
Two other things which actually were my motivation to go out with him were, fresh sugarcane juice vendors and a guy who used to sell Maakhan Misri (white butter mixed with sugar). It was kind of a ritual and he never failed to oblige (actually he had to otherwise the sleepy kid i.e. me, on his shoulder would turn out to be a rouge in no time).
That Maakhan Misri seller knew that I was his permanent customer. He used to charge 50 paise for one ball of sweetness. Now again the way he used to mix the white butter and sugar with a spoon and would make it perfect round was the attraction there.
There were other things also which I remember, pretty much etched in the memory, chirping birds, men and women of different shapes and sizes, the big Mandir(temple) bell and its sound echoing in pure silence, red ball of light aka sun coming out of nowhere etc etc.
Most of the things are still there except for that Makhan misri guy that serenity, probably a lot more bikes and care. But these things are not same anymore. Somehow they lost their charm. Have I grown old? Or were it those shoulders which had the magic and charm? That warm tap on my head, that patience with which all my questions got answered.
I guess it was you grandpa.
GIF Image Courtsey: http://heathersanimations.com
