Content Writer India

 

 

About contentwriter | Contact Us

Useful Articles

More Short Stories

Submit your Story, Article or Poem

Know More About Our Services

Contact Us contact@contentwriter.in

Advertise With Us

 

 Is the Grass Really Green on the Other Side?

Sheila was walking down the main road, which was bustling with traffic. She waited to cross the road. Her mind was relieved as she had just paid all the long awaited pending bills. Suddenly, a car honked loudly and she dodged in surprise to the corner of the road. Wearily, she crossed the road. The approaching mid-afternoon heat made her look longingly at the plush, air-conditioned mall. It looked like a giant-sized monster and served only the rich.

 

Sheila smirked at the caption "For one and all". Thinking of it, she thought wryly "What with the inflation and the prices skyrocketing, this caption safely eliminates people like me"! She shopped for her groceries at the corner store in her locality. All she had to do was, get down the stairs of their tiny flat in the apartment and turn to the shop just few steps away.

It was convenient, easy and hassle-free. Not to forget, the reasonable prices were an added bonus. The corner store was run by an elderly, kindly lady who occasionally gave pretty decent discounts to the regular customers.

Sheila, sweating and sighing ,thought-" Well, well, I could do with some air-conditioning right now. I feel as if I have been steamed in a pressure cooker". It would be grand to go to the supermarket, stroll quietly, pushing the trolley listening to soothing instrumental music playing in the background.
But, she reminded herself, that she had to go home, buy groceries, cut vegetables, grind fresh spices and start cooking. She had almost reached the bus stop to catch the 13 A bus, which stopped right outside her home. Waiting at the bus-stop, she desperately longed to go into the mall and
shop. It would be fun to shop in the mall after getting cooked up in the killer heat.

Taking out a small heart-shaped mirror from her bag, she checked out her toilette. The mirror showed a pretty reflection. A big black bindi and smoky coal-coloured kajal enhanced her beauty.
Adjusting her saree, she walked towards the supermarket. Thought not so well to do, Sheila was always elegantly dressed, which made her friends envious. A cool, welcoming breeze wafted over her as soon as she stepped in to the supermarket. Her gaze swept over the huge rows of shining, giant steel racks, neatly organized with all kinds of goods. With very few customers, the supermarket didn't have much activity going on. A few feet from the entrance were the cashiers at their counters, looking bored. One of the cashier,was scrutinizing sheila carefully. Annoyed, sheila glared at him rather angrily. With haste, she walked ahead and took the first trolley as she thought of buying few vegetables. Sheila couldn't help admiring the way everything was arranged systematically. Pyramids of tetra-pack juice boxes and colorfully netted mesh holders with chips packets, caught her eyes.

Impressed, she walked ahead and she came across the "pulses" section. An assortment of many hued dals were packed attractively. Rajma beans coloured earthy red, looked triple its usual size, moong dal looked astonishingly green and the kabuli chana looked like a fresh snow flake. Taking a packet of moong dal,her eyes spontaneously checked for the price, a reflex action which had resulted after many years of budget-management. She wanted to make crisp moong dal ki vadiyan for her chidren. They loved the dish and so did her husband, who found it particularly appetizing after a long day's work at the office.

Horror-stuck at the price of the moong dal, she compared the price of the dal to that of her beloved grocery store. There was a whopping difference of ten rupees. Well, for a lady like sheila, who was not really stingy, but didn't let even 25 paise to be spent unreasonably, this price was very hard for her to swallow. She was about to put the packet back, and just then as if from nowhere a girl dressed in the supermarket's uniform of a gaudy ornage shirt and black pants appeared. The sales girl asked in surprisingly good English" May I help you"? Sheila turned in surprise. The sales girl ,with a smug expression, was looking at sheila and her eyes kept darting between the dal packet and sheila.

Flustering, Sheila immediately put the packet into her trolley and shoved it forward. She was ,uttering to herself angrily-"Do they have salespeople to help their customers or to embarass them??? will this girl stop following me around"? Pushing her trolley to the next rows, she stopped abruptly as a exquisite smell tingled her nostrils. She looked around and found the odour emanating from the "PERFUMES" section. There were bottles of every size and shape, with liquids of all hues ranging from aqua blues to pale gold. One particularly caught her eye, as the perfume was being tested by the sales girl on a customer at the perfume counter. The bottle was round and made of beautifully carved glass with a jewel like cork to close it. Longing filled her sensible and grounded mind, to possess the beautiful piece of work with the lovely scented perfume. Sheila looked at the lady, who was trying out the perfume on her wrist. The lady was tall, slim and dressed in a lavish peach shaded, sequined saree. Her jewellery was minimal but chic and overall, there was a general air of sophistication about her.

The lady turned away from the perfume counter and her gaze met sheila's. Sheila mused "She must be rolling in money. I wish, we could swap lives". Then she thought of her loving husband and children, and felt guilty." It's not that I am complaining about life, but some extra money wouldn't do any harm to me." With this thought, she moved on, wondering where the vegetables section was. Searching for it, she came across the "COSMETICS" section. Here also the various sub-categories were emphasized neatly for the shopper's convenience. "Herbal, biotique, gels, scrubs....."sheila read on.

 

The costly facial scrubs were arranged in a dominant position at the centre of all the racks. They seemed to be in a emphasized position enough to woo its lady customers. She looked at the label of a facial scrub which had on it written-"for your gentle skin, we recommend this scrub ,which has the goodness of apricots from the hills and walnuts grounded together, with a hint of luscious orange."

This awoke a thought in sheila-"The description is more apt for a fruit salad at an up market bistro." Having always relied on home-made remedies for herself, this was all fascinating to her. A mashed banana applied to the face for an hour, made her skin satin-smooth and dewy fresh. On contrary to all the exotic hair conditioners, her remedy for smooth hair was two eggs from the paanwallah store.

Yolk and the white, beaten together, supplied her hair with all the necessary elements. It made her hair ,bounce and shine, as good as the unbelievably sliky, straight hair of the skinny models shown in shampoo commercials. Puffy eyes were set right by the left over cucumber pieces from the afternoon lunch. She was lured by the different range of cosmetics. slowly, she started picking up different cosmetics and put them in her trolley. All cosmetics individually served variety of purposes-some combated the age ageing of skin, some made the complexion rosier, whereas special gels made dark circles vanish, other creams gave a pearl-glow to the skin. For Sheila, it was heaven to pamper herself once in a while. Initially, she scanned whatever she put in her trolley, for the prices. But soon in a trance, she forgot all about prices and budgets. As she was putting away one more of those branded creams, she caught a glance of the time ticking away on her wrist watch and panicked as it wouldn't be long before her  children were home.

After much confusion ,she reached the" Food section". Staring at the bright, colourful packages and tastefully wrapped boxes of food, she stood transfixed in the middle of the way. A huge, cuddly brown bear on a chocolatey box of cornflakes was waving at her. In the noodles rack, a happy ,healthy oriental family was grinning at her to" come and take away the yummlicious noodles". The freezer was stuffed with frozen ready-to-eat patties, puffs, tikkas, rolls, curries. Looking at the frozen french fries, veg. spring rolls, she thought of her children's delight if these would be their evening snack today. Happy at the thought and thinking of her children's excitement ,she started loading her trolley with a frozen food packet of each type. Superb, she thought! Interrupting her ecstatic thoughts, a deep voice came from right behind her, saying-'excuse me". Sheila, looked at the tall ,rich lady whom she had seen trying the perfume on her wrist. The tall lady was helping herslves to liberal packs of frozen chicken rolls, prawn cutlets and other such ready-to-eat goodies. Wistfully, Sheila pushed away her trolley towards the cashier counter. She had a slight, unusual feeling of envy rising in her looking at the tall lady. She thought-"I am sure, she never has to bother about electricity bills and school fees. It must be grand to live like that."

The tall lady's lovely saree, her hour glass figure obviously achieved at an out-of the-reach hi-fi gym), the brimming trolley -all these made sheila depressed. Rather forlornly, Sheila awaited her turn at the cash counter. The tall lady, looked at sheila from a distance, thinking she was so pretty and elegant in her cotton saree. Our tall lady mused-"She must be very rich. The air of confidence and  her elegancy is of a totally different league. A league of people with bulging bank accounts and plush, comfortable homes". Passing through the rows, our tall lady caught her reflection peering back at her from a glass door. The image peering back at her was of a half-starved, hardened women standing. Dressed in her best saree from her limited wardrobe, decked with carefully preserved ,chic imitation jewellery, she had achieved the look she wanted.

But, suddenly, the same image, upset her. A small voice inside told her that being rich was not about pretty sarees and stylish jewellery. It required panache, an elegancy which had little to do with what one wears. The tall lady thought cynically;-"I am sure all this confidence and panache comes from a whole lot of money stuffed away into one's account." She had literally saved each and every extra penny to buy that saree worth eight thousand bucks. Accumulating these savings over a period of 3 months, she would get ready for her uninterrupted hours of glorious pretense-coveted trip to the supermarket. Due to the bonus her husband had earned this month, the coveted trip to the supermarket had come much earlier. Clutching her semi-precious stones embedded purse, she headed towards the second counter sadly, where she saw shiela standing.

Sheila herself was in a thoughtful mood. The contents of her trolley were being billed by a rather bored looking cashier. The cashier in a robotic tone said-"your bill is Rs.3895" Sheila felt the earth beneath her feet had fallen apart when she realized that she had tried to spend more than she had. In a micro-second, her self-respect was blown to pieces and humiliation swept over her. Disallowing this to fog her brain, she recovered quickly enough to pretend by rummaging her purse and then said'-"I have forgotten my credit and debit cards at home. Could you keep my purchases aside? I will pick it up in the evening or I will send my chauffeur." And with that, even without waiting for a moment, she walked away with ease and her head held up high in the air. In her mind, she had come back to reality and welcomed it, promising to herself fervently that she would never get carried away.

Our tall,' rich" lady had watched all this from a few steps behind with a melancholic expression on her face, thinking-"Wow, this is called attitude, confidence. The classy ease with which she spoke in the situation comes is attributed to the fact of her being rich. She walked away unflustered whereas I would have never been able to do that. What with all my inferiority complex, its just not possible for me to do so!". Thinking this, our tall lady, put out her precious savings of 2 months also a part of her husband's meagre bonus) to take away home the lifestyle of the rich.

Contributing Story Teller   BOLISETTY DIVYA  22 years old and ready to colour the world with my stories. Writing is my passion. Though by qualification, I am an chemical engineer and a banker currently, my heart lies in literature. Passionate about reading since when I was 6 years old, I have read different athors from dostoevsky to sheldon,from agatha christie to kiran desai, but my favorite has always been O.Henry.  divyabolisetty@yahoo.com

 Common Job Profiles - Writing Industry

Web Content Writer

Website Copywriter

Creative Writer

Article Writers

Travel Writers

Research Writer

Copy Editor

Technical Writer

Ghost Writer

Translator

Proof Reader

Content Writer Blog

Writing Resources
Writing Tip : Children's Story Writing is a good creative outlet and can be used to inspire others.


 

Content Writing Services, India | Contribute Short Stories in English & Hindi

Sitemap

Home

 

Content Writing News | Online Writing Job Profiles | Content Writer Blog |  Online Press Release | Post Part Time/Freelance Jobs | Writing Courses | Latest News - Top Stories


Copyright 2005 - 2013, contentwriter.in , contact@contentwriter.in Creative Story Writing India | Free Article Submission Services