Scenes from a mall

Most of those who have known me over my 55 years would say that I did not live up to my potential. After all I am a graduate. My father left me a fair inheritance. That I could not quite hold on to, leave aside build upon. Now I sell trinkets and knick knacks at the shopping mall. I do not own a shop, I have a kiosk that is located adjacent to the taxi queue.

I am not going to get into what happened over the years, my follies and misadventures at business and why at the age of 55 I sell trinkets and knick knacks instead I will just tell you about my day.

I quite enjoyed my breakfast. I usually do. My wife is a wonderful cook. She made breakfast and I made the coffee. But we did not eat it together. She had quite a few chores in the morning so she continued with them while I ate my fill. She joins me everyday at the mall in the afternoon to help me with my kiosk.

She ironed my shirt and picked out a tie for me. I usually do not wear a tie to work. I do not own a pair of formal shoes and wearing a tie along with tennis shoes does not seem quite right. However I saw the tie that she had chosen and decided to wear it all the same. As my wife fussed over the knot I stole a kiss. That made her blush. She looks gorgeous when she blushes. No she is gorgeous. She just is. I tried my luck again but this time she moved away and the kiss landed awkwardly on her ear.

I packed some of the merchandise that had recently arrived into my station wagon and made my way towards the mall. It’s quite a long drive. It took me almost an hour and a half today as there was a little more traffic than usual. But it’s was not all that bad. I like the radio and I had my thoughts to keep me company.

I got to the mall just shortly after 9 and could not park in my usual spot. I had to walk a bit longer than I do daily and the boxes of merchandise did not make things easier but I managed. Though I must admit I did sweat a bit. Sweat does not bother me. I quite like it actually. I particularly like the feeling of sweat drying on the body coolly.

The young man and girl from Philippines, who handle the coffee kiosk and the doughnut shop, were already there but as usual not doing any business at that hour. The boy and the girl were having an animated discussion.

He has big ambitions. I like his drive. I think he will become quite successful and rich one day. The young girl seemed to listening intently to what he was saying. But it was quite obvious that the words were just sounds to her for she is quite enamored by the young man. She knows that I know that she likes him. I looked at her and rolled my eyes and she pretended not having seen me make that face.

I opened up my kiosk and arrange the new merchandise – wrist watches, play things for kids, a mini key board that was also a radio and played 150 prerecorded tunes - all fanfare versions of western classical music and folk tunes and of course there were quite a few new trinkets.

The man from Pakistan came and set up his kiosk behind mine. He sells all sorts of electronic goods and cellular phones. Like always he was talking loudly on his cellular phone. The man cannot finish one sentence without uttering some abuse or the other. It’s in his manner of speaking. He is hard working and perpetually trying to fix some deal or the other. He owns two more kiosks in the mall which are manned by his nephews. The poor chaps get an hourly round of abuses from him. These days he is not talking to me because I did not lend him 500 Dihrams.

The young girl from Philippines had customers, 2 young men from Russia or near about. I could hear her say, Hello siirrr in her sing song tone. They could not speak English properly and made fun of her accent. I found that funny, Russians making fun of her accent when they themselves have so much trouble conveying what they want to say. She looked helplessly at the young man hoping for a sympathetic glance or gesture but he was busy adjusting his till. I could not help but shake my head. I thought about doing something to help the young girl improve her chances with the young man.

An Indian woman accompanied by her two young daughters stopped at my kiosk. The mother quite liked a set of Golden metal earrings and the young girls were looking at necklaces and bracelets. The mother checked the price on the box and her brow stiffened. I could tell that she was trying to figure out what price to peg it at. The girls had picked out one necklace with blue stones and another which was light Silver.

The mother said “6 Dihrams, too expensive”.

I shrugged my shoulders.

“How much for these”, the older of the two daughters asked.

“4 and 5.50 each”, I said.

“Too much”, the younger of the two said. Obviously she had taken more after her mother. The Older one still looked keen on buying.

“I will give you 10 Dihrams for the earrings and the two necklaces”, the mother said.

I looked at what they had picked out and checked the prices on the boxes knowing very well what the costs were. “Sorry madam, special items. Fixed price. 15.50 Dihrams total”, I said.

“That other shop there sell for much cheaper than you. This not worth what you are asking”, the mother continued.

“Ok Madam for you 12 Dihrams” I said knowing that she would agree.

She took out a small coin purse from her hand bag and gave me 12 Dihrams. The younger girl already had the blue stone necklace around her neck as they left.

“So you fooled the stupid Indian woman early in the morning to pay you 12 Dihrams for your junk”, I was surprised to hear the Pakistani say. He obviously had gotten over me not lending him money or maybe he needed something else. For some reason he always spoke to me in English despite knowing that he could talk to me in Urdu his own language or in my language, Arabic.

I knew he was not being rude or mean. He was just being himself.

“Us sales guys, we will all go to hell. It is our job only to fool customers”. He continued.

“See boss you did not lend me 500 Dihrams, it hurt my heart. I am no thief, I am an honorable man. If I take money, I return. But I say to myself maybe you having tough time so I forgive you”. He said

“So I think you managed to get it from someone else. See friend, you and I work close together. We are also friends. I think that it’s best not to borrow or lend money, especially from friends. That is the best way to make sure that friends remain friends.” I answered hoping to ensure that the question of borrowing money would not crop up again.

“You are a wise old man but you know what good a friend is, if he not help you in need”, the Pakistani sure had a knack for argument. He hurried back to his kiosk to attend to a woman looking at his cell phones.

The young girl at the coffee counter was looking again at the young man. Like always he was busy with work.

I went over to the young man and asked him, “How are you today?”

“Alright”, he replied a bit sullenly.

“You do not sound alright. Is anything bothering you?” I asked.

“No nothing”, he smiled hesitantly.

I looked him in the eye knowing that he would continue.

“I used to work for 18 hours a day at home. I did not finish college because my family needed money. I came here to save more money so I could be completely self sufficient and also send money home. Here I am, I work just as much in a day and I am still not able to save much money. I need to find a new job.” He spoke agitatedly.

“Things will work out fine for you. Just keep on working with dedication and sooner or later something good will come along. Look at the bright side, you are young and smart and I think your pretty friend there likes you”, I said with a gesture of my head to point out the young girl.

The young man just smiled but it was a warm smile and I think he was reassured.

“Bloody Russian whore! Wants the latest model of cell phone for 200 Dihrams. It costs 885 and she says she will pay 200”, it was the Pakistani.

He continued, “What does she think? That she can come and flirt with me and I will just give it to her. I will not even screw her if she was the last woman on earth and God came and told me that I was going to die the next day. Sali, kutti, randi, bhain-chudi, She must be making 1000 Dihrams every night just spreading her legs for every horny dog that comes around. Has she ever tried earning an honest living?

“How do you know that she is a whore?” it was the young man from Philippines.

“Hey you Chinki, you sell your coffee. Your kinds are no better. All Chinese and Russians here are bloody prostitutes…bloody living a life of Haram”.

“I am not from China and I am not a crook like you are”, the young man retorted angrily.

The Pakistani took a step toward him threatening but I stopped him. Just then his cell phone rang. It was his nephew from the other section of the mall. Had he picked up a bad time to call! The Pakistani muttered something and walked away to intervene at his nephews kiosk on some sale. He looked at me and gestured if I would look after his kiosk. I nodded my head.

A young Arab boy was going along with his mother. He saw the mini key board and walked over and started to play a cacophonous tune. He was quite happy doing it and I was happy to let him.

“Mummy, I want”, he said.

“No”, came the mothers reply firmly.

The boy stamped his feet and just stood there with his arms folded. The mother tried to pull him away and he started wailing.

“You are bad, you never give me anything that I want”, he said and tried to grab the key board. It fell on the ground and the back cover came off.

“Look what you have done. You broke it”, the mother shouted at him.

“Do not worry madam it’s just the battery cover which has come off. It is not broken”. I consoled.

“Sorry, he is quite a devil” the mother replied

The son thinking that he had broken it was quite docile now and hid behind his mother.

“Say sorry to uncle”, she scolded him.

“Sorry”, he replied tamely and walked away with his mother.

I put the battery cover back on and put the key board on the shelf.

“I do not understand it. You could have made her buy it saying that it was broken”, it was the young man said from over his coffee counter.

“That would not have been right and the fact is that it is not broken. It’s best not to play up on the greed of children to make their parents buy things”, I replied.

“Best of luck! You will definitely need it considering the fact that half the things that you sell are meant for children. You will never get a job with McDonald’s”, the young man replied wittily and I could not help but smile.

“How much for these ties?” it was a big man probably a German. “I have a meeting to go to and I spilled Mustard over mine”, he continued.

“One for 15 Dihrams and 25 for two. This Red and Blue Oxford stripes would go well with your black suit but this is for 20”, I said.

He looked at me as though I was out of my mind and walked away. He stopped in front of the men’s hair salon for a few seconds pondering over something and then walked in.

“Strange man. 15 Dihrams should be pocket change for him”, I heard my wife say.

I immediately felt happy seeing her. It was hot outside and she looked flushed. Her cheeks were the colour of the morning sun. I offered her my stool and took out another folding chair from under the kiosk.

“You want some water”? I asked.

She took out a small bottle from her bag and took a sip. I rubbed her hand and she smiled.

“Hello madam. Good you are here, now your business will pick up. The men will come to look at you and of course you can monitor your husbands charity”, it was the young girl.

She and my wife were friends. My wife kissed her and said something that made the young girl go scarlet. I guessed that my wife had made some joke about the young man.

The young girl looked at the young man and that confirmed my speculation.

From across the corridor I could see the German man who was keen on buying a tie pay 50 Dihrams to the barber. He had had a shave and his tie was wet with water where the Mustard stain used to be.

It’s strange how a consumers mind works. I thought to myself. The man had a dirty tie, he could have washed his tie in the men’s toilet for free or bought a new one for 15 Dihrams but instead he decided to get a shave and pay 50 Dihrams.

I and my wife had lunch at the food court. She had gotten a packed lunch box with her. My wife is friends with the Indian girl at the Mexican counter in the food court and she heats up the lunch in the microwave when her supervisor is not looking.

How I wish I could sleep for an hour or so after lunch but that’s a luxury I cannot afford. I and my wife headed back to our kiosk.

Business picked up after lunch and there was not a moment when we did not have someone browsing at the stall. A group of Japanese tourists picked up some Dubai souvenirs and T-Shirts. A middle aged Indian gentleman picked up quite a few multi coloured pens. I figured he would have quite a few children at home but was surprised to see him put one in his pocket. I guess he did not discriminate and felt that purpose preceded all else.

The evening progressed and along with it the pain in my knees. I wife offered her chair to me. I insisted that she continue to sit. The young man from the coffee counter saw this and promptly came over with his folding chair. I tried to refuse but he did not agree.

“Shabash chinki, shows you have respect for elder people or do you think that the old man will adopt you”, the Pakistani commented with a smile.

“I would not mind having a son like you”, I cut him short.

“It was only a joke do not mind”, the Pakistani said.

“I did not mind it. After spending everyday with you for 6 months, I know you”, the young man smiled.

The evening passed along and by 10 pm business picked up as the evening shoppers all queued up for a taxi next to the exit. Someone or the other came over and looked at the stuff. Trinkets, toys, scarves, cheap watches, pens…stuff that they do not really need but still want them all the same as it catches their fancy.


By 12 we were winding up. My wife counted the cash. Business had been good. I started packing up the merchandise.

Two Indian men and one woman were standing next to the doughnut counter. One of them wearing a Black coat took out and Orange can and asked the young girl if she would keep it. The other two, presumably husband and wife laughed. The girl declined. The man in the Black coat turned towards my stall, he looked a bit lost.

The young man from the coffee counter teased the girl in their language. I did not need to know their language to guess that the young man was teasing her about the man in the Black coat.

Two young boys walked over from the taxi queue. The elder of the two picked up a set of round magnets and threw them in the air. The magnets stuck to each other in mid air. The young boy caught them as they fell down. The younger one laughed gleefully. He took the magnets from his brother and threw them upwards but he threw them with too much force and one of the magnets went towards the Pakistani’s stall. Fortunately nothing was damaged. The Pakistani shouted all the same, “Oye khote de puttar. O whose children are these, mind them”.

The Indian man in the Black coat seeing all this burst out laughing. This irritated the Pakistani further.

The elder boy was a bit taken aback with the Pakistani’s outrage but the younger one wanted to play more with the magnets. His mother came over and made him keep the magnets back on the shelf. The young boy looked very disappointed and turned back to look at them as his mother dragged him away. I picked up the magnets and walked up to the kid and gave them to him.

“No thank you, we do not want to buy it”, it was the kids mother.

“It’s a gift for the little one, you need not pay me”, said I, having no intention of selling it to them.

“Your husband will make you bankrupt”, the Pakistani turned and said to my wife.

As I turned back, my eyes met the Indian’s. He smiled a perplexed smile.

I walked up to my wife and she smiled and I quickly bent down and kissed her on her cheek.

“Adam, Adam and Eve”, I could hear the Indian mutter. I wonder what he meant. His married companions laughed at him. I definitely think that he was a bit drunk.

We packed up and the young couple from Philippines helped us carry some merchandise to our car.

The drive back home was quick and pleasant. I drove with the windows rolled down, sang some old songs that were being played on the radio with my wife and held her hand throughout the journey except when I needed to change gears.

I had a good day. I think I have had a happy life. What do you think?