The shop was closed for two hot and humid summer weeks.
All the neighbouring shops were open for business. The electrical gadgets conked off one by one. The ironing machine , the mixer-grinder, the cooler. It was as if the electrical goods were also lamenting the absence of the avid repairer. Upon enquiring , we came to know , there has been a death in the family . Some said it was the shopkeeper, some said it was the owner . I presume , they were the same person.
When the shop opened , brisk business resumed . It was as if it had never been shut down.
I had to get the mixer repaired , ASAP . It was the cool smoothie season and things became "lumpy" , in the absence of one .
Three strange young men manned the shop now . I asked , out of politeness, the whereabouts of the older man , and was met with indifferent stares. The boy at the bench continued to thread some cotton threads through a coil of glistening copper wires ,a gadget that was probably a motor of sorts . Another turned and flicked the TV on with grimy remote cracked at the base . That was when I noticed his biceps.The biceps were menacing balloons of flesh, with engorged veins creeping like vine on the surface . Then one saw it . "Arnold " , in capitals , and a perfect replica of the famous muscled man's visage tattooed on the peak of the fleshy mound, complete with black aviators.
Another tattoo on the neck said" I love gym ". The "O" of the love was a small red coloured heart, with the two halves cleverly shaped into ,what else, bulging biceps .
This was a man with some serious love of body-building. What was he doing in a grimy electrical shop in a dingy part of the town , it was difficult to tell.
Another person with his dreams gutted , songs muted and treasures of the soul looted.
All the neighbouring shops were open for business. The electrical gadgets conked off one by one. The ironing machine , the mixer-grinder, the cooler. It was as if the electrical goods were also lamenting the absence of the avid repairer. Upon enquiring , we came to know , there has been a death in the family . Some said it was the shopkeeper, some said it was the owner . I presume , they were the same person.
When the shop opened , brisk business resumed . It was as if it had never been shut down.
I had to get the mixer repaired , ASAP . It was the cool smoothie season and things became "lumpy" , in the absence of one .
Three strange young men manned the shop now . I asked , out of politeness, the whereabouts of the older man , and was met with indifferent stares. The boy at the bench continued to thread some cotton threads through a coil of glistening copper wires ,a gadget that was probably a motor of sorts . Another turned and flicked the TV on with grimy remote cracked at the base . That was when I noticed his biceps.The biceps were menacing balloons of flesh, with engorged veins creeping like vine on the surface . Then one saw it . "Arnold " , in capitals , and a perfect replica of the famous muscled man's visage tattooed on the peak of the fleshy mound, complete with black aviators.
Another tattoo on the neck said" I love gym ". The "O" of the love was a small red coloured heart, with the two halves cleverly shaped into ,what else, bulging biceps .
This was a man with some serious love of body-building. What was he doing in a grimy electrical shop in a dingy part of the town , it was difficult to tell.
Another person with his dreams gutted , songs muted and treasures of the soul looted.
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