Cool trash

In London it may be the first call of the cuckoo that singles the dawn of summer, but in Shillong it should be the “ice-cream” vendors who do a brisk business as the sun keeps ascending. Those up countrymen, who carry satin blue wooden boxes on their shoulders, are the real harbingers of summer. It is an entirely different matter that they cannot pronounce the word ice cream (the way they pronounce, it should be spelt as “S-cream”,) but what they trade on is sheer trash. A slab of ice made out of contaminated water, compounded by hazardous chemicals which add atrocious colours, are passed off as ice cream. For the unsuspecting clients, particularly the children, it is the easiest way to invite troubles, health wise.