Pakoras

Last year when I was in Peshawar, I needed printouts of my ID, and some other stuff. The ink in my disused printer had dried, and buying ink for it was a costly affair. It was cheaper getting my papers photostatted from a local shop. I asked my driver to drive me to the nearby market. I had barely stepped out of the car, when a little boy asked for some money. “What are you going to buy?” I asked him.

“I would like to eat pakoras.”

I laughed at that, and told him to wait. I didn’t have any small notes to give him, plus I didn’t know the selling cost of pakoras. There were two men ahead of me in line. They were having a great number of printouts, and my turn wasn’t coming any sooner.

The little fellow was fed up with waiting, and came again to ask me. I felt sorry but told him to wait. I couldn’t get out of the line, otherwise I would have lost my turn, as few others had turned up, and were waiting for their turn.

As soon as I was done, I called the little boy, and asked him how much he wanted? Another boy who was older than my young friend sidled up, and told me he wanted to eat pakoras too. I asked them, “Is there someone else with you people who would like to eat?” Two others came at a run. I paid for their treat.

Before leaving I laughingly asked my driver, “Would you like to eat some too?” He smiled and said no, and so we left for running my errands.

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