liverpool street station

I witnessed a very very (scarily almost) familiar scene today.

uncle sitting reading newspaper lackadaisically on uncomfortable grey seat. kid runs up and sits next to him, giggling uncontrollably. "i- bought- two- bags- from- one- shop!!!!", kid pants. "hmm.. what did your mother say?" uncle is absorbed in the observer.

more uncontrollable giggles as aunty comes up. "that went well! and it isn't raining that much today. what do you think?"

uncle agrees, "no, not raining much at all. what do you think?"

aunty is satisfied, "no, not raining at all. and your son wanted two bags. there was a discount. we bought them. ahh.. all his desires are getting fulfilled today. since it isn't raining that much either."

kid is suddenly hungry. "i- want- chowmein- now! unnggghhhhhhh!"

taken unawares, i look around for a chinese take-away. needn't have bothered.

"shouldn't we go home and eat it? it will be messy. and it's at the bottom of the bag. i'll have to take everything out first. and we can heat it up at home. it will be nice and hot. and here, everyone will watch. let's eat it at home," aunty rationalises.

undecipherable tantrummy sounds from kid. "okay", aunty agrees, "you eat it here, we will walk. slowly now... don't drop it on your new bag. ahh.. all his wishes are fulfilled today."

they leave happily, aunty pulling a 70's leather shopping bag on a late 80's shopping bag trolley. kid prances around them, waiting for uncle to dig his chowmein out of his backpack.

yay! middle class bengali-hood survives in this urban phantasmagoria yet.