A Market Morning

Around two years ago, on a Thursday morning, I woke up feeling insanely blue. The thought of going to college felt unbearable. After minutes of reflection and thorough calculations about my attendance percentages, I decided to bunk. However, I couldn’t go back to sleep. I felt weirdly restless. I hopped out of bed and decided to take a walk. Staying in Basavanagudi had its perks (a lot of them), Gandhi Bazar was just a couple of lanes away. I got dressed, grabbed my camera and headed straight to the flower market.

It was quarter to eight, and the market was just coming to life. Vendors were settling into their usual spots, prepping for the day ahead. Fresh loads of flowers had arrived, flooding the morning air with rich scents. The Sun shone shyly, giving the colorful flowers a tinge of contouring.

           

The following day was Vara Mahalakshmi Vrata and thus, it was busier than usual. People bustled through the market looking at what every vendor had to offer and most importantly, at what price. Women examined the freshness of the flowers with great suspicion and bargained aggressively. Husbands who came alone for the purchase, most of them stopping on their way to work, seemed greatly confused with the sizes of the garland they ought to buy. Some resorted to video calling their wives, others held up photos of their deity’s frame to the vendors, hoping for guidance (thanks to modern technology, these men could ace garland shopping). Camera in hand, I camouflaged into this chaos. 








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