a Talesmith Short by Rajesh Muthuraj
If you ever visit DMart on a Sunday evening, look closely. Amid the chaos of carts crashing, kids crying, and loud announcements of “Buy 2 get 1 free on toilet cleaners!”, you’ll find a distinct species roaming the aisles: The Poor Men with Trolleys.
They are easy to spot.
Expression: Lost.
Movement: Slow but obedient.
Purpose: None.
These are husbands who came in with confidence “We’ll finish shopping in 20 minutes” and three hours later, are still circling Section 7, following their wives like GPS systems that occasionally bump into racks.
The Entry of the Brave
At the gate, you’ll see them, standing tall, smiling, pushing the shiny trolley like a king’s chariot. Five minutes later, they’ll be stripped of dignity and energy. Their wives will be holding the lists, their children the snacks, and they’ll be left with just the trolley, the only thing in the store they can control.
“Ravi, stay with the trolley.”
The sentence every married man has heard at least once in his lifetime.
Ravi obeys. He holds the trolley like it’s a life partner of its own. He doesn’t know where he’s headed, but he’s moving, because standing still means trouble.
The Trolley Men’s Parade
There’s something majestic about watching them in formation:
- 10 men
- trolleys rolling in slow motion, forming what can only be described as “The D-Mart Convoy of Despair.“
One sighs near the shampoo section.
Another stares blankly at toothpaste boxes, questioning existence.
A third man has gone rogue, missing since the grocery section, last seen near Pickles & Papads, still pushing but with no destination.
Their leader, of course, is Ramesh, the veteran. He’s been coming to DMart for eight years and knows every aisle by memory. He’s even marked “safe zones”, places where wives rarely venture:
- The broom section (no one ever compares brands here).
- The electronics corner (wives say, “You wait here, I’ll check clothes.”).
- The freezer aisle (perfect for standing dramatically with frozen peas and deep thoughts).
The Great Billing Queue
After two hours of intense product evaluation, comes the final battle: the billing queue.
The wives, exhausted but victorious, dump 127 items onto the counter, all labeled “necessities.”
The husbands, meanwhile, stand silently, watching the bill climb faster than petrol prices.
They try to look useful, arranging items, re-packing, scanning QR codes, but everyone knows the truth: their job ended when they picked up the trolley.
At that point, one of them mutters to another, “Next time, I’m pretending to have back pain.”
The others nod in solidarity.
The Exit and Enlightenment
Finally, they walk out, bags loaded, wallets light, spirits broken. Outside, they see another poor fellow entering DMart with a shiny trolley and a hopeful grin.
They give him a look, that tragic look that says, “You’ll learn, brother. You’ll learn.”
As they load the car, their wives discuss the next week’s offers, and one man whispers, “We should start a club.”
Another replies, “Already exists, it’s called marriage.”
Moral (The Talesmith Style):
- A man may control a car, a company, or even a country, but inside DMart, he controls only a trolley.
- The trolley may have four wheels, but the man pushing it has none of his own willpower left.
- Marriage teaches patience, but DMart tests it.
- And remember: the true measure of love isn’t how long you’ve been together, it’s how long you’ve waited near Section 9 holding a trolley full of detergent, rice, and regret.
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