Mrs Goody Two Shoes XIV

Show me the money!

When it's the festive season, people whom you have never met before appear on your doorstep for baksheesh

It was one of the rare Sunday holidays I had got. It had come after such a long time that I wasn't quite sure of how to handle it. I felt like I had stumbled upon a long-lost crush, and a surge of emotions had rushed back, leaving me staring at him like a shy and awkward teen, fiddling with her dress, fumbling for words, the longing evident in her eyes although she tried hard to act cool and hide it.
Coming back to the heart of the matter, the long-awaited Sunday had arrived, finally, and for me, it was like a time-bomb was ticking away. Every second was bringing me closer to the closure. I quickly drew up a list of things I had to cram into the day. I had even woken up at 6 am to make sure I had a few extra hours; lying in bed for long would have been such a waste anyway.
I started ticking of items on the list. Start the day with green (great as an anti-oxidant and for a glowing skin): check. Read the morning newspaper at a leisurely pace, with lulling music in the background: check. Take a hot shower with bath salts and.... ting tong! Aaargh. Absolutely no sense of timing, whoever it was. It was the sweeper, with his paan-stained, nearly toothless smile. "Madamji, Diwali bonus."
It was eight in the morning on a perfectly blissful holiday for heaven's sake. "Jaggu, you never come before 11 or 12 to collect the trash," I rebuked while rifling through my purse for a fifty-rupee note. I was a little annoyed, but the rebuke came out like an indulgent admonition, and made his smile wider, especially when he saw the money in my hand. Well, I can never do better than that. One has to keep everyone happy after all.
After a steamy (don't get any wrong ideas) shower, I slipped on my soft, pink slippers and was tending to myself with some foreign creams when the doorbell went off again. It had started to sound similar to RGV's effect in 'Bhoot'. This time, it was the guard of the locality. I figured out he was the guard from his uniform, stick and whistle. He just stood there, hand extended.
The series continued throjavascript:void(0)
Publish Postugh the day. I was accosted on my way to the market and back, I was hounded when I was taking a quiet evening stroll. The day was turning out to be a horror movie with a psycho angle -- all I could see was hands, and more hands, slowly approaching me from all possible directions, with haunting voices echoing around, "chanda, baksheesh, bonus..."
The last bell rang late in the evening. I dragged myself. Four fat kids in festive outfits stood at the doorway. "Aunty, chanda please, for laddoos." I was baffled. Four over-healthy, rich, spoilt brats, who would do well to go without the laddoos shamelessly standing there. What I felt like was slamming the door. What I did was give them the last bill I had in my purse.