For centuries Dharval’s family had been Dhobi Wallahs but his clients were now dwindling, no longer wanting the function the family performed. India was becoming too affluent. The Hyatt Hotel, his last pick-up, always had a consignment. He grabbed the bag and pedalled furiously to the muddy, polluted Ganges. His door to door six day clothes washing service was now done in three to keep clients happy. He beat the sari furiously against the rocks as he watched sewage float past and the swaddled body of a dead child. Maybe his clients were right. They should buy washing machines.
In response to Charli’s prompt where she asks:
December 9, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write about a looky-loo. It can be in the general term of “looking around” or it can be a nosy neighbor kind of tale. You can also go deeper into the prompt and have a looky-loo at another culture (or your own).
Respond by December 15, 2015 to be included in the weekly compilation. Rules are here. All writers are welcome!