An Unsuccessful Shopping Trip

Before I begin let me tell you that this was an O level's topic, and all the characteristics of me, my mom and my house are completely and totally fictitious.
Enjoy!

It was a pleasant Sunday Morning, and as usual, I woke up late. Brushing hair out of my eyes, I went downstairs for breakfast to find my mother all dressed up, swinging a huge purse in her arms. Eyeing me, she smiled broadly, greeting me good morning. Then she pointed towards the egg and toast on the table, and said, “Hurry up, beta, we have to go to the market today.”

I groaned. It was a beautiful morning, and I wanted to spend it lounging about at home. Nonetheless, I obeyed. I picked aimlessly at the breakfast and slurped up most of the milk. Then I went upstairs to change.

Pretty soon, I was ready for the shopping trip. I stepped down the stairs to find my mother waiting for me. She rattled the bunch of keys in her hand impatiently, and I accompanied her to the car.

Once in the car, I asked my mother what she had to do.

“There’s a one day sale at Khaadi” she smiled eagerly, naming her favorite fabric store. “And I want to check out the winter wear.”

“Right” I moaned.

Upon reaching the shopping mall, my mother headed for the car park. The parking area was packed with all sorts of cars indicating the typical ‘Sunday’ rush that would be awaiting us inside the mall. Finally, we found a suitable place to park the car, and stepped inside the mall. The place was abuzz with noise and activity. Ladies of all shapes and sizes were roaming about, most merely window shopping. Children, too, were pressing their noses at the sweet shop glass or admiring sunglasses and shoes.

Since Khaadi was on the second floor, my mother dragged me to the escalator, and we stepped on.

Upon reaching the upper floor, I swiveled my eyes around, searching for the store. It was hard to miss. An orange-yellow board stood out amongst the others.

Very soon, we were inside the store. My mother went straight to the ladies’ textiles section, and began browsing eagerly for the dark winter prints she so loved.

I looked about plaintively for any interesting dresses. The shaggy khaddar kurtis hung on iron rods in the girls’ section were bright shades of magenta, green, and black, too dark for my taste. I ignored them.  For awhile I stood admiring the duly colored dupattas, featuring little cute prints, but I soon got bored.

I went to my mother instead, who seemed to have settled on dresses she wanted to purchase. Heading towards the cash counter, my mother approached the salesgirl questioningly, “What will be the discounted price?” she asked.

“Discounted price?” the girl asked, apparently confused. “I’m afraid you must be mistaken ma’am, for there’s no discount!”

My mother stared at her, agape. “You mean-there’s no sale?” she whispered hoarsely.

“I’m afraid, yes,” the salesgirl replied.

“Who told you about the sale?” I asked my mom.

“Anum, my friend,” she replied, aghast.

We left without the clothes. Khaadi as it is, a branded store, the prices were much too high.

As it turned out later, my mother’s cheeky friend had tried to play a harmless prank on my mother.