3 p.m.: Shyamdev Mandal sits at his shop, but he looks extremely annoyed.
“I have work to do,” he informs me, “so someone needs to attend to this shop.”
He continues: “I had asked the two boys (referring to his sons) to attend to the shop. But neither of them are to be seen. They must be smoking marijuana somewhere”
Shyamdev’s wife has gone to meet some relatives. He continued, anger oozing from every pore of his visage:
All this (he points to the shop and the goods stored therein) is for my boys. But they just don’t understand, the irresponsible motherf****rs. They were sitting around the whole morning, but have disappeared exactly when they should be here.
Even as he speaks, he stands up suddenly at the counter and steps out of the shop muttering: “I don’t care either. If they are not interested, why should I be? I have loads of work to attend to. Forget it all…”
Disappointment now writ large across his face, Shyamdev begins to shut the door of the shop.