Delivery – Only on call
Payment – Cash
Living in the town’s fishermen’s quarter in a dilapidated yellow shanty are two brothers. Sons of the former leader, which is to say is an honorary title, of the fisherfolk. The older took to the father and became one amongst the fisherfolk and the younger more rebellious in nature doesn’t have a stable profession.
Their mother died when they were very little and so all the upbringing had to be done by their father, who wasn’t any good at it. He’d leave early in the morning to fish and then take that fish to the marketplace, sell them off, settle the credits and return home late in the evening. The elder brother took care of his younger sibling and his father when he got old and ill, till his father passed away.
Both brothers are unmarried. The elder is a pious obedient fisherman; the younger is a rebellious vagabond with artistic skills. They’re both my father’s age.
My father told me that the younger brother had ventured into the city in his prime and came back 4 years later with a good amount of money and a lot of paint.
I tried asking him (the younger brother), he doesn’t talk about that phase of his life now. He just smells of rum and paints and draws on walls.
Although this one time he was very drunk, had red eyes, a slouched back and a paintbrush in between of the ring finger and pinkie of his left hand, he said barely, “I want credit. Then I will know I’m good.”
Then satisfied, turned around and continued his artwork, as if he’d communicated his message clearly. I smoked the rest of my cigarette and left.
– Milkman 1996