A Choice of Existence

Vihram and Anwar—both unfailing, vigilant observers—kept their eyes peeled like binoculars such that even a small fly wouldn’t go undetected.

- Sreelekha Chatterjee

Any movement on the road that turned toward the space they were posted alerted their senses, as they positioned themselves with their weapons.

Their bodies taut, every muscle tensed, even their sweat would temporarily halt from free fall to avoid their attention from being distracted in any way. The moment they saw a living soul, they would be ready to strike. It would be a matter of minutes when the person would land up in front of their citadels and “boom”—their bombardment would start,hurled toward the target individual—the full panoply of their power.

If readers thought this to be some battlefield and the two men to be soldiers, then they wouldn’t be fully wrong. It was no less than a war that happened every day of their lives.

The only difference was that the area where they were stationed was the city road, and their forts were their vegetable carts set side by side. Their watchfulness was meant to spot any potential customer that they detected proceeding toward them. Their attack was that of their cannons of words that they burst on the interested customer, who would initially face a dilemma of choosing between the two greengrocers.

“My vegetables are as fresh as the morning sun.” They would often say in unison, adding to the purchaser’s confusion, refusing to be enthralled and misled.

“The other guy is selling stale veggies, all infested with worms. Don’t ever choose to buy from him, or else you are going to regret it.” These were their usual words of appreciation for one another and perpetual suggestions to the willing customer.

Contrary to what they stated about each other, they both brought fresh vegetables and the best ones in that particular market where they stalled from 5 a.m. until midday.

So the customers got even more puzzled.