The Stationery Run
- july 26 ~ North Goa
The Shop was tiny. A small place where you always felt like you’re slouching a bit to stand was overflowing with every possible stationery item on the floor, in the racks, on the small centre table, everywhere.
The lady and the man, who I’m pretty sure were husband and wife, were about to shut shop when I entered in a rush wearing a helmet. As soon as I got in, I looked around bewildered. I had looked up a stationery shop heading back home via Mapusa, put it in my maps app while filling up on the Bombay-Goa highway, in hope that I would catch the store open in time to buy goods necessary in an experimental writing routine that involved sitting through the night.
As it turned out, I reached the destination 3 minutes before closing time– ‘you have arrived’ announced the app lady. When I looked up there was no stationery shop around, just a row of shuttered shops. It was almost half eight, and I after browsing the nearest stationery shops that were still open, it seemed like my plan would have to be scrapped for the night. In a final hopeless bidding, I decided to give another store a go, and after I updated the map, I zipped my scooter on the hilly roads of Mapusa, clumsily navigating an uphill stretch with my phone in one hand, balancing the wobbling scooter with my right.
The second shop, a seemingly popular place where college going students flock to for photocopies, was shut as well. A towering white light illuminated its front, sparkling the surface of a puddle on the road from the monsoon drizzle. I checked my phone–20:37. I might as well plan something else for the night, I figured.
Another red dot near my location provoked my attention, which I was now in the mood to subdue. But… what if… the what if never goes away, does it? Apparently, it seemed just across the road, just a turn away.
I parked my scooter on the main road and decided to follow the map on foot. And there it was, just on the left–an open stationery shop in the dead of the night. I entered excitedly,
and the first thing I saw was the lady shopkeeper who got up to greet me with a smile. ‘Yes?’
‘Do you keep writing pads?’
I wouldn’t be exaggerating to say my question triggered a beehive of commotion inside the little shop, because the lady brought out a dozen writing pads of all sizes that writing pads probably come in. Then I asked for lose A4 sheets, and that’s when the shop Uncle, who had been a passive observer got into action. What ensued after that was 20 minutes of pure stationery shopping bliss!
One after the other, they kept bringing out stuff I wanted to buy, showing me alternatives with so much excitement it was infectious. Stationery shopping is an entire genre of mood. On some occasions, they didn’t have what I wanted, but from some pile in the wall or the other, they would conjure up a lesser-known local version of it. I’m sure the three of us were having a jolly good time discussing old pens from years gone by (some are still available to buy!) and the lost trend of buying refills. ‘The new generation, they don’t buy refills at all,’ said Uncle, ‘they buy a new pen only. So mostly, we don’t keep stock of refills and cartridges.’
Then another customer walked in with her kid asking for a drawing notebook with sketch pens. I checked my phone–it was past nine. The three of us were silent for a second in acknowledgement of our shared experience. I asked them to add up my items because I didn’t want to hold up the queue.