In Mon Repos, at the junction where Agriculture Road meets the Railway Embankment, behind a makeshift stall with cherries and a few cashews, sits Kowsilla Takechand.
Kowsilla has been selling fruits at this spot for a “long time”; this is all she knows how to do. It is a trade that was passed down by her parents to their children. While her siblings sell ‘greens,’ she chooses to sell fruits.
“Anything I get I sell,” the fifty-five year woman says while trying to fix the large umbrella which shades both her and the fruit from the sun. In the mornings,