The Sunday market experience was a little bit odd. A little bit problematic.
So we were driving into what seemed like a perfect little slot in the parking area.But just as the car was nosing itself in we noticed a stray dog serenely sitting there.
Some more serene sitting.
“Saala.”Said my father .A single word of wonder and annoyance.What’s the bugger thinking?This is our parking space innit?
It is ,I suppose.(What are my premises?)
At any rate,once in I stand around near the maachwala(fishmonger).He was chopping fish.His job and I’m no Maneka Gandhi.The Bengali in me sees fish solely as something to be eaten.
And he clinically proceeds to put the mouth of this fish on a blade and efficiently delivers a blow with a block rendering it lipless.Quivering edges where a mouth had been.
Funnily enough what popped into my head at this moment is the sophisticated argument I’d been reading in the morning regarding the exact meaning of human rights.I realized that the implicit assumption had been that rights were an inalienable part of life on this planet.Not something just thought up to expend superior intelligence.