Mos Eisley is a spaceport on the hot planet of Tatooine in the Star Wars series. For some reason, Dragon Mart’s hustle and bustle reminded me of that hive.
Oddly enough, my first visit to Dragon Mart was just days ago. When I entered, I noticed how hot it was. Then I noticed the throngs of people. It was like a packed bazaar, filled with (and I’m genuinely not being racist) Chinese shops.
I’m not going to comment on my shopping experience, but these are some of my observations while I was there:
The general dressing sense of the crowd there is…weird. For example, there was a man walking with a t-shirt, with a blaze starting from the bottom of the tee, so from afar it looked like his nether regions were, quite literally, burning up.
Then there was the loud Indian family. I’m Indian and I know these types. Screaming their plans at the top of their lungs, and honestly not noticing or caring the hostile looks people throw their way. Kudos to the 7-year-old who could NOT stop talking about the state of his nether regions and how far away the bathroom was from where he was at the time.
The spoilt brats made their appearance. I was sitting with my brother Karan on one of the seats in the public areas, and had the misfortune of sitting next to a family with four children, who really got on my nerves. One child ran to a shop and picked up a toy and ran back, the owner coming after her, hoping the father or mother would pay him money for it. He got lucky. The father asked how much it was and said he’d take it. Although why anyone would pay Dhs 30 for that, I do not know. Other children got annoyed that the little girl scored, ran to the shop themselves and picked up three more stupid toys and… daddy pulled his wallet out and paid. They were so spoiled, they would stand in front of passers-by and not get out of their way, tried to intimidate other children and generally made a right nuisance of themselves.
The maid with this family…I felt sorry for her. The mother was no where to be seen, just one, very old and frail-looking, woman looking after those kids. She must have been past 50, or it could have been the stress of shepherding the children that made her look that way. She was dressed in the worst clothes imaginable; I would not wish that on my enemies. The cloth (she passed close to me once) looked itchy and scratchy, it was frayed at the edges, it looked as though it had been through the wash more times than it could withstand (did she not have more clothes, I wondered?), and she just…looked uncomfortable. More so, when one of the kids began hitting her with the toy, and the family she was with (only two men, no mother-figures) laughed indulgently.
Then there were the customary stares I’d forgotten existed. Okay, I didn’t forget…I’d just pushed it out from my mind. Karan got slightly upset with the heat, and the noise so even though we sat down somewhere to help him relax (uh yeah, next to the spoilt brats? Fat chance), he was uncomfortable enough to sometimes cover his ears or his face. That brought the stares aplenty. I just glared back until they looked away. In addition, I used to not pay attention when children, or young adults stared because I thought, well…they’re kids. No more. I’ve realized it only means they come from a family that hasn’t taught them better, and neither do they have a decent friend circle who can correct them. I’m glarin’ away, sparing neither adults nor the younglings.
Come Han Solo … fly me outta this place.