A DAY AT SUPERMARKET

You know the day of the month where all of a sudden there’s a pain in your belly and a minor ache in your head & you get nauseous!? Well, I’m not really talking about the day of the month wherein you find out that you ain’t pregnant. There’s that. But, just like periods, there’s a day in every month where you set yourself on a small trip, not less an adventure with your mum to THE SUPERMARKET. There are mixed feelings running up on your mind. You ain’t sure whether you should be sad because you’re going to get exploited with all “driving” the trolley over & over again or happy because you’d get to buy lot of cheese & chocolates! Supermarket is like the destination of dreams & and nightmares. Because, firstly, there’s food. Secondly, it’s full of mothers & with a bossy minds for then.
The day at supermarket probably marks the only day in the whole month where you make yourself useful. Because hey! Riding a trolley ain’t no job of a kid. *Eye rolls* Apparently, it is. Being a child of your mother, it’s your birth right to take the charge of the trolley. You are probably given birth to do that. Don’t believe me? Observe sometimes. There would be minimum age limit between you and the guy/girl holding a trolley, the guy/girl walking his/her trolley towards the spice section, the guy/girl with a trolley standing beside the guy/girl with a trolley beside you. Yeah! It’s all a loop.
Mark my words, the day you visit a supermarket is the same day, the whole population of the country decides to shop in. The. Same. Supermarket. And everyone decides to go to the same aisle as you go. Then occurs the riots! Collisions between two trolleys is no less than the collision of titanic with an ice berg. Untangling the wheels is no less than untangling your earphones when you take those out of your pockets. And if you refuse or ignore the person behind your back with a trolley regarding them “excusing” you to get aside. You’re blessed with curse and a hit on your ass. It’s ever pathetic when kids have the trolleys. I’m like “yo mama! Your kid is too young for such a huge responsibility.” If and only the mothers listen to my inner voice and deny their kids from getting the hold of the trolleys. They start shedding tears at the top of their voice! Never goes a day whereby a kid doesn’t cries in a supermarket. Sometimes, it’s like a competition held between them regarding who cries the most & the loudest.
Kids aren’t the worst part of the supermarket. The worst part of a supermarket is *drum rolls*. Hold up! Lemme look for my mum! She was just in front of my eyes! She’s gone! Where’s she! How can she leave me alone? “Honey, I shrunk your mom?” She was right there! She’s gone. Wtf. How am I supposed to find her in this place filled with holy cow number of humans! Am I supposed to show a picture of my mother to the people and ask if they’ve seen her nearby? And I set a journey on “finding mother-mo”. I take a couple of rounds throughout the supermarket and I find her no where. Holy shit! The third time I find her, she’s deciding the brand of spices which needs to be purchased. I swear, she wasn’t there the second time I came to the place to find her. Plus it takes forever to travel from one aisle to another. Like I said, it is a loop! Literally. No sooner you realise that the weight in your trolley has almost gotten double than your weight. Unless, you’re me. That’s another word for a potato- shaped person. And, you’re exploited for the labour for the day.
However, when you get to choose your personal food (snacks which is no-one allowed to see or touch), that thing is worth than all of the shit you’ve experienced in that place. I mean it’s like a drop of water for a thirst person, wage for the day for a labour, a ray of hope for a person who had lost all of it.
Furthermore, when one try to reach the cash counter. There’s already a laarrrgggeee queue. I mean, one couldn’t guess whether it’s a supermarket or a government office. The employee at the cash counter is lazier than a koala and suddenly you get too much interest in the moving hands of your watch with an upsetting frowning face. Coincidentally, it’s your bad luck if there occurs to be a fight between a bunch of customers regarding who kicked whose ass. As in, who run their trolleys into whose ass & blah blah. Your luck’s even more bad when coincidentally, you run into a “known” person and he/she asks what the hell were you doing here. And you’re like, “Hey, I, uh ,actually, I came to get my hair done. But in middle of everything, I lost my mum, got my arse bumped, watched a WWE, judged a who-cries-the loudest competition and what not. Okay. Bye.” Throughout the small talk, the cash counter guy/girl hasn’t completed deciding whether the cash given to ’em are real or clones. Gandhi’s head is properly shaved, now effing get my transaction under process. I got a life to live! “So here goes your 200₹ cash, a 5₹ coin, and two melodies. Have a great day ma’am.”

Love. Laugh. Live. 🙂

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