expensive

Music was playing softly through the speakers hung in the corners. Songs from a decade to two decades ago, that brought smiles of nostalgia to the crowd that this place wanted to attract. Once that crowd came in, young adults, people in their early twenties, people almost at their twenties, once this crowd came in, others would follow. Or at least that was how the theory went. It had somehow worked out that way. The place was clean, the crowd at this time, when the sun had not yet set, but it was not high up in the sky either, at this time, around four in the evening, was not large, but that was to be expected. It was neither lunch nor dinnertime. Why would there be any people here. Yet there were.

People were draped in expensive shawls, wearing watches that sparkled in the light. They were doused in makeup, and she could see the women smiling with the restraint that the culture had taught them, their culture, the culture specific to their class of society, the men laughing in full. She kept her ears and for the most part, her eyes, on the table next to her. Sahib and baji and their son were sitting there. Sahib lounging easily on the rigid seat provided, baji hunched by the child. She waited for a snap or a motion of either of their fingers that would indicate that they needed her. They ate some very small pizzas and salads, but they looked nice. Thin. She wondered how much they would cost. Probably a huge part of her salary. Her mouth watered. Her stomach growled, she tightened her core, willing it to stop making sounds. Her eyes wandered. There was a young couple, probably unmarried. There were two boys on the table in front of her. One was laughing loudly. Obnoxiously. There was a group of people. No one else had brought their children at this time. The place was clean, behind her, she felt the chill from the ice cram bar. Her eyes had glanced over it before she forced them away. So many colors, so many choices. Again, her tongue watered. She sighed, and looked down at the table. A snap called her to attention, and she went over to the table where sahib and baji sat.

Unbeknownst to her, a boy from the table in front of her was watching her. He felt a pang of pain in his heart. Here he was, spending thousands of rupees on the simple salad in front of him, and there she was brought to serve, where she could look and not eat. The bastards hadn’t even asked for water for her. A simple ice cream? Nothing. His heart twisted, as if a fist had grabbed it, and clenched. The food almost felt like ash in his tongue. He swallowed, a large gulp stuck in his throat. A snap brought her to attention from staring demurely at the table in front of her, and rushed over to the table with the husband, wife, and their infant son. His friend said something, and he laughed, but it felt hollow.