The stationary store woman
The urge to buy something comes in the form of an acute diarrhea. You have to make a purchase or you spoil your mood for the rest of the day. Not to reveal the intimate details but the foul mood infects your fellow sufferers. I suffer from this form of diarrhea once in every two days. With controlled efforts, the bout may be prolonged to every third or fifth day but if then not intervened, the mess is visible to public eye. In the times of insurgency, the local stationary store comes to my rescue. Every commercial complex or for that matter even residential complex houses a stationary store. They are like the potholes encountered after every few meters. They are innumerable yet indispensable. Every galli, nukad or mohalla boosts of a stationary store replicate with everything from pens to pins and books to boards. The brands of objects vary from the richness of the locality but certain products bind the rages to the riches. They are the Karl Marx of Indian society uniting the slumdogs