Tarkaari

The morning starts early at Tarkaari in Kanakanagar. We are at M-8, which isn't a huge space, but we make it work for us. Usually, the crates arrive before the sun is even fully up. We spend those first couple of hours just sorting through things. My hands are usually stained from the vegetables by nine o'clock. It’s a bit damp inside because we have to keep everything cool and fresh. We have these old wooden crates that have been around forever. People from the nearby apartments walk over once they’ve dropped their kids at school. It gets a bit crowded in the aisles, and sometimes someone knocks over a pile of onions or potatoes. We don’t mind much. It’s just part of the day. The street outside M-8 is usually quiet except for the occasional bike or dog. We don’t have any fancy displays or bright lights. We just put the stuff out in the bins and let people pick what they want. Sometimes we sit on the stools in the back when there’s a lull in the afternoon. The floor is made of old stone and it’s a bit uneven in the far corner. We know most of the faces that come through the door. We don't do much talking other than telling people the price or how the harvest looked this week. It’s a basic way to spend the day, but it keeps us busy and we like the routine of the seasons changing.