Selling chocolates in English at 1am

Mumbai — the ‘melting pot’ of an assortment of cultures, is home to millions. The inflow of people never stops and neither does the city. Everyone seems to be in a hurry, and as accustomed I am to this fast-paced life, at times the mad rush gets to me.

I’m no reader and beyond a point I can’t stare at screens [computer, cell phone or television]. Conversations have always been my way to learn, unwind and discover, but my work timings does not allow me to indulge that often.

I walk the streets of Mumbai, when most people are an eternity away from waking up. Why do I haunt these streets at odd hours? It gives me a chance to appreciate what the city has to offer.

However, I am not the only one. Apart from rag-pickers, drunkards, cops and local party karyakartas, I always manage to run into kids, few amo-ng an estimated 35,000 who call the streets their home.

Most people loathe them, assuming they are drug addicts with no future; few sympathise with them. The reality of these children is naked but what this iniquitous city has taught them is the art of flattery and conversation.

One night, sitting at Worli Seaface after work, a boy carrying a rucksack walked up to me. He seemed like just another runaway kid, making a living selling food to tourists. And before I could refuse, he said, with perfect English diction, “Would you please be kind enough to buy some chocolates, ma’am.”

I was stunned, and I think he could sense from my expression that it wouldn’t be too difficult to convince me. A few requests later and I parted with my money.

He said his name was Prince. I wasn’t convinced, though, so he told me his real name, “Akshay Singh” [name changed].He wanted quick business; I didn’t want the conversation to end. I asked him where he was from and if he went to school. He said, “I live close by and study in an English- medium school.”

Why was he selling chocolates at 1am on Worli Seaface? He said his family had migrated from Uttar Pradesh and needed some extra income.

Before I could continue, he cut me short. “How many would you like to buy, ma’am?” he asked. Being questioned had made him uncomfortable, so I said, “I’d take two please.” The entrepreneur in him refused to give in and he tried to convince me to buy more, but I only had that much change on me.

I ran into him a few of times. Each time, he did not break his business rules and just asked me if I wanted to buy chocolates.

He, however, had probably realised I was more interested in knowing about him than in his goods. Nonetheless, I end up buying whenever I run into him. Who wouldn’t mind eating a chocolate in the middle of the night; with the sea for company?