"What do you think? Should we take some mangoes also?" he asked his friend.
The friend looked out. "They look yummy. The man likes mangoes. Maybe we can get some banganapalli. They look big and ripe," he pointed out.
The man pulled up at the kerbside. The two got out and walked towards the stalls on the footpath. The vendors called out, each quoting a competitive price. "You will not get such mangoes, sir," said one, taking out a mango whose aroma drew them to it. "Come here sir," another called.
Before the two could decide, there was a flurry of activity and the vendors started closing their stalls. But the Corporation van was on them before there was much progress. An official got out and grabbed a few mangoes. An assistant tested it and shook his head. All mangoes were confiscated.
"No sir, mine don't have artificial ripeners," one pleaded, but the mango didn't stand the test. Almost a 100 kilos of mangoes were packed up and taken away.
Shocked, the two friends thanked their stars for their narrow escape. "The b------s! Just to make a quick buck! No care about how it will affect the buyers!" he ranted.
The friend shook his head thinking of the men. "Just for a few hunderd bucks! Pathetic how cheap these men can get! What more can you expect from this class!"
"It's a health hazard! I think these vendors should be banned from returning, the orchards should be shut down. It is criminal! You remember how people developed allergies after consuming these last year! I don't know how the government cannot control this! Inefficient fools!"
The two reached their destination. "You have it with you?" His friend nodded.
They got out of the car and walked into the shabby office, the briefcase between them. They were shown in to the proprietor's room, who welcomed them, his face wreathed in smiles.
He put the briefcase on the table. "This is Rs 25,000, as I promised on the phone. Thank you for withdrawing your son's name from the tennis match."
The host brought his hands together and said, "He was anyway a wildcard entry...not much chance, I suppose."
The man smiled and he left, his friend on tow. "Why did you do it? If that boy wasn't good enough, yours would have won anyway , no?"
The man shook his head. "Mine is no good either. But he is very passionate about the game. I didn't want to disappoint him."
This was a poison plaguing the society that the Corporation couldn't test and confiscate.
The friend looked out. "They look yummy. The man likes mangoes. Maybe we can get some banganapalli. They look big and ripe," he pointed out.
The man pulled up at the kerbside. The two got out and walked towards the stalls on the footpath. The vendors called out, each quoting a competitive price. "You will not get such mangoes, sir," said one, taking out a mango whose aroma drew them to it. "Come here sir," another called.
Before the two could decide, there was a flurry of activity and the vendors started closing their stalls. But the Corporation van was on them before there was much progress. An official got out and grabbed a few mangoes. An assistant tested it and shook his head. All mangoes were confiscated.
"No sir, mine don't have artificial ripeners," one pleaded, but the mango didn't stand the test. Almost a 100 kilos of mangoes were packed up and taken away.
Shocked, the two friends thanked their stars for their narrow escape. "The b------s! Just to make a quick buck! No care about how it will affect the buyers!" he ranted.
The friend shook his head thinking of the men. "Just for a few hunderd bucks! Pathetic how cheap these men can get! What more can you expect from this class!"
"It's a health hazard! I think these vendors should be banned from returning, the orchards should be shut down. It is criminal! You remember how people developed allergies after consuming these last year! I don't know how the government cannot control this! Inefficient fools!"
The two reached their destination. "You have it with you?" His friend nodded.
They got out of the car and walked into the shabby office, the briefcase between them. They were shown in to the proprietor's room, who welcomed them, his face wreathed in smiles.
He put the briefcase on the table. "This is Rs 25,000, as I promised on the phone. Thank you for withdrawing your son's name from the tennis match."
The host brought his hands together and said, "He was anyway a wildcard entry...not much chance, I suppose."
The man smiled and he left, his friend on tow. "Why did you do it? If that boy wasn't good enough, yours would have won anyway , no?"
The man shook his head. "Mine is no good either. But he is very passionate about the game. I didn't want to disappoint him."
This was a poison plaguing the society that the Corporation couldn't test and confiscate.
Getting serious! Nice story!
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