Skip to main content

Lockdown shopping with the Uncles

Bangla Bazaar

Sunday morning

11am


Firuz Miah, Abdul Moin and Shorif Ullah sat in their respective chairs staring at the groceries in boredom. They were not getting as many customers as they usually would. As soon as lock down started in the UK people seemed to prefer to go to the well-known big brand supermarkets like Lidl and Tesco. Firuz Miah, the owner of Bangla Bazaar was worried his store wasn't as busy anymore.

"People go around the corner and queue for one hour, but they don't have the sense to come here!" scoffed Abdul Moin, who stacked shelves at the Bangla Bazaar.

"They think the Tesco and Lidls are better sanitised, that's the problem. They don't think we are clean enough", Firuz Miah said, sat at the till.

"Yes but there are crowds and queues there.  All those people coughing and sneezing and pushing each other around, fighting for toilet tissue, when they could walk around the corner and get all the tissue they want from here!"

"People are idiots. They have gone mad", Shorif Ullah the meat section manager added. "Some sensible ones, even the shada manush manage to find us and come here for the tissue, but the other idiots like to queue and fight on the main streets."

"This government is ridiculous too, not only the herds of people" said Firuz Miah, "look at what they do, they send everyone to eat. Eat out to help out, and they fed them so much and made everyone unwell. Now we are closing the country again."

"Ah don't talk bhai. This ridiculous scheme, just for 10 pounds. They feed us 10 pounds and make us go to our graves. What will we do with our 10 pound savings now?"

Sadik Miah a regular customer walked in and overheard the men's conversation. He couldn't help joining in to condemn the government. "The government has truly lost their mind bhaisabs. They are dishing out Covid grants left, right and centre. Where does all this money come from? "

"Who knows bhai? Allah zane," Shorif Ullah touched his head. "They used to say we have no money to fix streets, no money for schools and now Covid came and all these grants are being given. People are applying for all kinds of grants. Where is the money coming from?"

"People don't care where it's coming from," laughed Sadik Miah, "those that can benefit are applying jhoomse before they stop them."  He picked up a kodhu and a juice and went to the till, shaking his head, "ah Firuz Bhai, can I have these bhaki? I will pop by tomorrow and give you the money bhai. I don't have any change right now."

Firuz Miah's jaw tightened in annoyance. He indicated with his eyes to Sadik Miah that it was fine.

As Sadik walked out with his pumpkin and juice Abdul Moin said, "Kitha bhaisab you shouldn't allow them to pay bhaki. If everyone does this, we will not make a penny. Too many customers are saying 'write it in the book' and claiming they will pay later."

"What can I do? he is a regular and he does pay when he promises to," shrugged Firuz. "I have to keep the regulars happy."

"By the way Firuz bhai," said Shorif Ullah from the meat section, "I hope you are not taking cash from people anymore, you will catch Covid from it. Make sure you ask them to pay by card."

"Ah you don't have to worry too much about that Shorif!" Abdul Moin folded his arms as he continued to sit on his chair. "They knew Covid was coming, they made the paper money into plastic. These notes are plastic and washable now. See?" He took a ten-pound note from his pocket and ruffled it to show the lamination. "Firuz you should wash your coins at the end of the day though. Best way to protect yourself. I heard people are washing their notes too."

Firuz agreed. "Yes they planned it alright. The government knew Covid was coming. Suddenly changing all notes to plastic. What a conspiracy and they are getting away with it."




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Enchanting One

Morris sat at the best seat at the bar. It was one of the most expensive restaurants in London, high end, dimly lit, decorated lavishly, the music - trance like, the best drinks and the finest cuisine.  He held an old fashioned in his hand, and was seated in the darkest part of the room; the arm with the drink resting on the edge of the bar, his legs crossed over as he leaned back against the chair giving him the best position to survey the room. He wore a perfectly fitted three-piece suit made of the finest wool. A bow necktie completed his affluent appearance, and his jacket hung open, showing the waistcoat beneath which was moulded perfectly against his broad chest. Morris gently tapped his finger against the glass as he scanned the room and watched the girls walk past him.  The waitresses, the heiresses, the hostess, the girls who were here for a birthday meal and wouldn't be able to afford this place on a casual night out; the wives of the wealthy barristers and investm...
3 comments
Read more

A Viewing

“Our second son works as a manager in a bank and his wife is a Nurse.  She is here with us of course.  Our fourth son is at university and my son Juber as you know has completed a law degree”. It was a chance to display the successes of her family and Mrs Islam was not one to let go of an opportunity to list each of her children’s occupations including professional titles or what she understood of them.  She wasn’t one of the more staunch mothers who would not have shied away from mentioning which university her children had attended being knowledgeable about University league tables and the prestige attached to particular faculties of higher education.  Mrs Islam wasn’t an egotistical woman but she discussed her children’s occupations and achievements as much as any other family or mother would coming from a Bengali household; with a certain amount of pride and with the simple satisfaction of saying her children were educated.  It did not really matter whet...
Post a Comment
Read more

Victory Part 1

She had won, she had got him.  He was hers again and yet she was stuck here with nothing to do and he wasn't giving her any attention.  Gilbert sat with his friends in the room next door editing photos and drinking beer. Bushra sat on the bed staring at her phone trying to find some way to kill the boredom. She had travelled - correction took an actual  flight - all the way from Paris to see him and he was practically ignoring her. Bushra didn't want to complain because she really wanted them to make it work this time and she knew how he disliked women who complained.  He reminded her often enough. Gilbert had been telling her ever since they got back together that the others were too demanding, too negative. Mira apparently had dark negative energy and had always been argumentative. A woman who craved drama he had told her. 'Bushra, this girl, she would always want to go out, she never wanted to stay at home. I'm a traveler, it's what I do for a living as y...
Post a Comment
Read more