The silent vendor

There was the usual hubbub when we descended the last slope from the tranquil tourist spot to the parking area. Vendors selling everything from mementoes to snacks were yelling in the hope of attracting at least a few customers before everyone went off in their vehicles.

Then came the sound of an old-style bus horn. No, it was not from the parking lot. It was from a small makeshift shop selling tender coconuts. Suddenly, we were all thirsty and hungry.

As we went closer, he welcomed us all with a big smile and put aside the horn. Interesting, I thought. Instead of letting his own voice get lost in the cacophony of all the shouting from the other vendors, he was trying something different.

I was about to compliment him for that when he used his fingers to answer my question about the price per coconut. He wrote it on his palm and then gestured—he could not hear or speak.

After that it was a smooth conversation. Before cutting each ​coconut he would ask—just water or you prefer some malai also?

The first sip of the coconut water instantly took me back in time, when my family used to have a large coconut plantation. When city folks like me were visiting, someone would climb a palm and bring down tender coconuts. The water that I had just tasted had the unforgettable tang of very fresh coconut.

He gestured to me that every morning he climbed up a few palms in the vicinity and got fresh coconuts.

There were still four coconut halves with the glistening white meat waiting to be picked up and eaten when there was a sudden downpour. The bus was parked a little distance away and everyone was eager to make a dash for it. Skip what was left and go? Suddenly, he pulled out a clean bag to put the meat in. I asked him to pack it. He refused. “My hands are not clean, you do it” he indicated.

As the bus moved away, I wondered. Did I miss taking his photo? A selfie? Should I have got more information? It would have made such a wonderful post and garnered so many “likes”.

Then the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The few wisps of remaining clouds accentuated the blue that vied with the green all around to fill one’s eyes and heart.
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That was it. I realised the meeting with him was best stored in the heart, where it would stay far longer than on any screen.