Question

essay on a visit to a fish market on the occassion of birthday

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Answer 1

Answer:

plz mark as brillient

Explanation:

My father and I don’t share a lot in common, but what we do share is a love of good food, and a keen eye for a bargain. As a child, I normally accompanied him on his trips to the fishing docks, holding my nose and gripping the back of his shirt, observing as he bargained hard for the best fish, vegetables and meat.

A year ago, I was back in India for a visit with my family, and I felt like I needed to revisit the docks with dad. Dad was reluctant to take me. With my Westernized ways, I was likely to drive up the price of fish. ‘Come on, dad’, I pleaded, and he grumpily agreed. We were up at the crack of dawn, and I precariously balanced myself, side saddle, on his rickety motorbike, and we rode off to the market. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, but the dusty haze was rising – the day promised to be hot. The spicy-sweet smells of cooking and wood fires were in the air and the sounds of the city awakening were loud and strident. There was a time when riding with dad like this was commonplace, but on that day, I clutched at his shirt and the back of the bike, trying not to wince as he recklessly bounced over potholes, all the time trying to balance my notebook and camera.

Answer 2

Answer:

$\bf \huge\: <strong>Q</strong><strong>u</strong><strong>e</strong><strong>s</strong><strong>t</strong><strong>i</strong><strong>o</strong><strong>n</strong>\: \:$

• Essay on a visit to a fish market on the occassion of birthday

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$\bf \huge\: </strong><strong>Answer</strong><strong> </strong><strong>\: \:$

• My father and I don’t share a lot in common, but what we do share is a love of good food, and a keen eye for a bargain.
• As a child, I normally accompanied him on his trips to the fishing docks, holding my nose and gripping the back of his shirt, observing as he bargained hard for the best fish, vegetables and meat.

• A year ago, I was backb in India for a visit with my family, and I felt like I needed to revisit the docks with dad.
• Dad was reluctant to take me.
• With my Westernized ways, I was likely to drive up the price of fish.
• ‘Come on, dad’, I pleaded, and he grumpily agreed.
• We were up at the crack of dawn, and I precariously balanced myself, side saddle, on his rickety motorbike, and we rode off to the market.
• The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, but the dusty haze was rising – the day promised to be hot.
• The spicy-sweet smells of cooking and wood fires were in the air and the sounds of the city awakening were loud and strident.
• There was a time when riding with dad like this was commonplace, but on that day, I clutched at his shirt and the back of the bike, trying not to wince as he recklessly bounced over potholes, all the time trying to balance my notebook and camera.

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