Shop By The Road.
I could hardly recognize her from the last time I saw her. The laughter of the lovely little girl who came running into her brother's arms still rang in my ears as I stooped into the small shop. This was a lonely stretch of road that ran climbing up and down the hill slopes. And you wouldn't find another shop in an hour's journey. I first came here many months back, when our bus broke down near here. A jolly young man gestured us welcome, out of an old shack by the road, while he quickly wiped the only bench with his other hand. The shop had one small shelf, one chair for the guy, and one bench for furniture to boast of. The shelf held an array of plastic jars with pickled mangoes and big gooseberries, some homemade snacks, and fries. A small drawer to the side held a few packets of cigarettes and a few bundles of beedi. Though the shop possessed only a few things, everything were kept very neat and organized. The guy at the shop, Ravi, was a man of good spirits, w