“Issh, it’s 10 o’ clock and you are still sleeping ?”

In came a kick to the belly. Harry jumped up from his sleep.

“Get up, you lazy bone and get some groceries. I need to cook our lunch”, Aunt Petunia boomed.

Harry was forced out of the house, a few notes of muggle money in hand. The bespectacled face of Gandhi stared at him sympathetically. No one else perhaps understood how he felt. Whose picture would be on the wizards’ notes, if they had one, thought Harry.

Sunday was the busiest day in Bow Barracks. Everybody was either returning from, or going to the church. Harry headed for the fish market. It was an utter chaos out there- everyone was madly bargaining for the perfect price.

Hilsa was the flavour of the season, but the Dursleys couldn’t afford one at a thousand bucks per kg. He bought some of the cheapest Katlas he could get his hands on. As it is he wasn’t going to get any fish. He would have to make do with last night’s leftover rice.

He had to buy some lentil and brinjals too. It had been raining since morning and Dudley would want Khichdi– his typical monsoon lunch. After he had finished shopping groceries, Harry still had some time on his hands. Returning home early didn’t appeal to him.

So when a tram came rumbling by, he jumped in. It was headed for the Maidan. He was lucky to get a seat by the window. The vast expanse of the Maidan Grounds reminded him of the school grounds at Hogwarts, of Hermione and Ron, and Hagrid. He was fed up of this holidays. He yearned to be back with his friends.

He could see the Howrah Bridge in the distance. He often dreamt of sitting on its topmost rung and enjoying the cool breeze from the Ganges. He missed his Nimbus 2000. The bridge was one of the few things in the muggle world that he wanted to come back to! Other than kachoris and jalebis– the smell of which suddenly reached his nostrils and reminded him that he hadn’t had any breakfast. He still had some change, so he dropped down from the tram, and had his fill.

And some hot tea! Ah! Butter Beer did have its competitor after all!

The tea stalls were bustling with customers. Today’s adda sessions had just one topic- a wizard called Messi. Who was this fellow ? How did the muggles know about him ? Harry made a mental note to ask Hermione when he got the chance.

It was time to take the walk back home. Harry noticed that the Puja Pandals had started coming up. Less than three months to go for the pujas, thought Harry. Pujas made him think of the Asura – who always reminded him of Lord Voldemort- they had an uncanny resemblance!

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of some terribly loud music. He found himself at the at the Dursleys’ doorstep. So that would be the new television and home theater Uncle Vernon had bought from Fancy Market at dirt cheap prices. Little did he know that it was the wizards’ discarded things that made their way to that place. It was hence no wonder that the muggles couldn’t start up most of the things bought from there!

Harry kept down the grocery bag and made his way to his room. His aunt would soon hand him the dusting cloth. Sundays were like this. He would only get some time to himself when the Dursleys took their siesta !

(This blogpost is an entry to the Blogging contest, a part of the book launch of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, in association with Kolkata Bloggers.)

Archya, in his own words, is the trying-to-be-global bangali babu, who is attempting to carve out a niche for himself in blogosphere, having had mixed results in Medicine Practice. In short, a struggling artist.
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