THE PEDLAR WHO MADE A FORTUNE
SELLING HIS WARES
Karachi, being the largest city in Pakistan offers opportunities for work and
Sindhi, Punjabi, Pathan and Baluchi people trickle into it from their provinces
to avail of the opportunities for work. These people are mostly illiterate and
therefore take up any trade as a job. Dreaming of scaling heights of buying
life's luxuries for their near and dear ones they settle here and are content
with the second best i.e. Roti, Kapda and Makaan which is food, clothes and a
shelter over their heads, a roof.
Pedlars are traders who offer cheap goods because they do not have overheads to
brother about like shopkeepers who pay high bills for rent, electricity etc.
These weather beaten folk brave the sun and the wind to earn their living.
Karachi with its yawning gap, the big difference between the rich and the poor
also offers a decent meal for the low income bracket. Some folks who have their
plots of land back home can cultivate vegetables and keep poultry and cattle for
meat, eggs, milk etc when they go back, but they find the change in Karachi an
equally good way of living. Karachi the city of lights is to them what Paris is
to the rich. Karachi has beaches for entertainment and its roadside hotels
offering all types of cuisine from Nihari, Biryani to Chapli Kababs are a
tempting delight for the palate. Lok Virsa promotes folk craftsmen and artisans
and the citiite is introduced to the crafts that are available at a nominal
price.
It so happened that sometimes on travels abroad a Pakistani had spotted a label,
‘Made in Gujrat’ on some china in a shop in London and paid through his nose for
the thing, considering the exchange rate for the pound, had he bought it in
Gujrat it would have been much cheaper.
I and my family are residents of Karachi; I was born and bred here. To me it is
my home. Not that I do not know any other city, but nothing compares to Karachi.
Our house is situated in a central locality of Karachi and therefore is easy
access to anybody who desires to visit us. It is easily accessible for Pedlars
also. Pedlars on bicycles and on foot come to our house which is situated in a
high rise building of Karachi. The Pedlars would shout from downstairs “Sasta
Maal Hai, Lay Lo” in Urdu which translated into English meant. “The wares are
cheap, buy them.” These and many more slogans were heard from downstairs above
the din of the traffic.
Once there was a Pedlar who sold home spun bed sheets. He had all these sheets
stacked on the carrier of his bicycle. I thought he bought them from a factory
on the outskirts of Karachi. Since they were slightly damaged (The damage
sometimes was not visible to the naked eye) he bought them at a cheap rate and
then he would sell them for a slight profit which kept his stove burning and his
families stomachs full.
My mom was very happy with the Pedlars. She did not have to visit the market
which meant she would have to drive her car in heavy traffic which she dreaded
doing. As young girls, we sisters enjoyed the visits by these Pedlars also. We
enjoyed them as grown ups too, most of all by the Pedlar who bartered clothes
for utensils. Since we were used to paying cash for whatever we bought, we found
this form of exchange interesting. Our mom would ask us sisters not to throw
away our old clothes and to keep them for this man who paid a monthly visit to
our house. He would shout from downstairs and my mom would beckon to the
chowkidar (guard) to let him come up. With a big dish on his head which in turn
held the smaller utensils he would come to our door step. He would assess the
value of our clothes and ask us if we wanted a particular utensil in exchange.
“Is this okay baji? (Big sister),” he would ask my mother. My mother did not
haggle much with him, because she knew that this was his only form of income.
He was poor and this afforded him the lentil curry and the Chappatis that he fed
his family. One day when I had a few clothes for him to exchange for the
utensils I asked the chowkidar (guard) to allow him to come to our flat, up
stairs. “Assalaamalaikum baji (Big sister)”, he said to me in his friendly tone.
“Waalaikummus salaam,” I responded. After asking each other about how the rest
of the family members were we got down to business. “Baji, what do you have for
me today?” And I gave him the used uniforms that I had kept for him. And as we
prepared for the barter, I selecting the utensil that my kitchen lacked, my eyes
rested on a gown that he had. It had the signature of a famous Pakistani film
actress. I asked him where he had got it from and he told me that he had seen
the film in which the actress was and that he visited her house frequently, from
the outside only and since she had a big heart, the actress often gave her
things to her guard to give to me. I told him that this gown was worth a
fortune. Any fan of hers would pay a high price for this. “Really baji,” he
asked in his naive way. I told him to show it to his other customers and since
this was a very famous actress, a customer fan would willingly pay a high price
for it. And really so, as when he came a couple of weeks later he told me that
it had sold for a couple of thousand rupees and his wife had sat on the prayer
mat, thanking God for the amount which would buy the dowry for her daughter who
was to be married to her cousin. He invited my family to the wedding and lo and
behold the actress was also there. She came in plain clothes and sans make up so
she was not recognized and not mobbed. She was the trump card in his Game of
life and life seemed so beautiful and this was also a lesson for anybody not to
give up as life was not so bad after all.