That undiluted smile…

Today I am happy. I saw my building watchmen with a smile on his face. This means that he was really happy. Seeing a smile on a worn out face which has stayed too many months without seeing one’s family is a rare phenomenon. Afterall we humans are social animals. The reason for the smile was attending his daughter’s marriage for 20 days to his native place in some small village of northern India. Now it’s not the first time that I have seen him smile. My usual hi or a query asking about his dinner would earn me his smile, a simple answer coupled with a simpler smile. But at the back of mind I always knew that… that forceful contractions of those face muscles to give a shape of a smile has been practiced with repetition and regularly performed. So damn plastic. But not today. Today it was different. So damn real. So damn undiluted…

Now the question lies that what fascination does a smile on the face of a watchman has to me?? It is a well thought question. I being a 25 years old guy am always expected to be fascinated by smile of any random pretty chick. Sometimes true but not always. There is more to a guy’s life that “pretty chicks”.

How many genuine smiles do you get in a day? (Except for the ones from your loved ones ofcourse) The milkman hardly smiles, cab driver hardly smiles or office peon hardly smiles. Even the smiles given by the office colleagues are many times so not genuine. We are used to plastic gestures every day. The high end restaurants we visit have the most artificial smile pasted on the waiters. I always prefer them without a smile.

And when we consider a building watchman for that matter… He has the least reasons to smile. We normally crib about our working hours of 8 to 9 hours and low salary of Rs. 30 to 40 thousands. Now if you increase the working hour to 12 hours and reduce the salary to peanuts, that’s the average watchman you get. He has lot to crib. Have you actually ever seen your watchman go on a leave? Rare phenomenon. Even the job is damn boring. During my college days I used to sleep at 4am. I could see my building watchman through my window and have spend good amount of time pondering over his sad lonely image getting bored in the chilling cold nights, waging a war against the mosquitoes with loneliness and sleep to haunt him till the morning. And for the morning shift there is regular dosage of being ignored and looked down upon. That’s I guess is taken for granted. Poor people being looked down upon. Hardly anyone feels bad about it anymore.

He has a life too. But 3/4th of his life will be spending with building people who treat his just like a class 4 worker. He is the most familiar stranger to everyone. No wonder the watchman is the first one to get suspected during any theft. His poverty is a curse for his moral values too I guess. Still we find so many takers for this job. Most of them immigrants from poor regions of the country. Slogging hard here to make few lives worth living in their villages. It’s odd to see a human confined to abstinence from family and social life. But these immigrants are helpless. They have to earn the livelihood somehow. The big corporate offices and malls may be a sign of our growing economy, but the helpless poor security guards working there are sign of human emotional and social life getting screwed. I am sure that they would leave this sick job at one instance if they get a livelihood at their native place. They are least fascinated with this fast paced, uncaring societies of modern India.

My building watchman is working in my building for the past 7 years. In these7 years, his kids have grown up. He missed seeing them grow. One basic urge of every father. He has lived without his wife long enough for him to actually forget the love they share. His marriage must have become just a formality now. But still he lives on in this alienation society to make a future for his son, a happy married life for his daughter. Thankfully the latter has come true. His daughter is getting married next week. He will go to his native pace for 20 days after a gap of 2 years. The happiness is over flowing in his gestures. While distributing sweets, he is unable to contain the joy. His joy has made my eyes glitter with moist. I loved the moment. Wanted to freeze it and gift it back to him for him to keep it forever. But some thoughts are way beyond the practicality.

But though the 20 days of happiness are far too less in 2 years of solitude, they are enough to bring that undiluted smile on his face which is worth a million in this city full of plastic smiles.

One Hell of a Night….

This is a true story of one night in my life, which lets say was not as any other night. All the characters, places and events in this story are exactly how things actually happened. Names of people are not revealed keeping in mind their privacy. And also as a statutory warning, I do not recommend any of the things mentioned in the blog to anyone. It’s highly subjective. Enjoy.

Sunday afternoon on 20th June 2010. I am at my brother’s engagement ceremony. People are cheerful. But I am so damn sleepy. My eyes are red. Body is tired. And lots of flashy images of previous night are running through my head. What a night it was. It was like you catch a flight to Hawaiian Islands but land up in African grasslands. Wow. Diverse places and characters. All in one night. And a very real fact had dawned upon me. That Mumbai city never sleeps. And so didn’t I.

It all started on previous day evening. I was supposed to catch up with a one of my best pals to just chill out on a Saturday evening. Also hang out with my cousin a bit and then I had planned my night stay at my friends place. But such a nice simple easily achievable plan was never achieved.

On that Saturday, when I left office at around 5:30 pm, one of my office colleague whose home was on the way decided to accompany me. We met my friend in Borivili station (It’s one of the suburban railway station in western railway in Mumbai). That’s it. That’s the only point till which we were able to stick to our initial plan. Now I get a call from my cousin saying that he won’t be able to meet us because of some priority work. So we three, my office colleague, my friend and I decided stick together for a while and munch on some food. We never imagined that we were gonna stick together for way longer than “A WHILE”. For food, the only criteria a restaurant has to fulfill to get us in is that it should serve liquor. And being the super class brainy children of Homo sapiens, we all decided to board a bus to search a restaurant rather than walk and search. (But must say it was a brilliant idea). Hopped into a nearest bus and the journey started with both eyes glued to the roadside for search mission of any eating, drinking joint. And after 15 long min, I spotted a flashy little restaurant named “Night City, Restaurant and Bar”.

We got down from the bus. Entered our newly found discovery. The clock on my wrist showed 6:30 pm. A warm welcome from the doorkeeper, a lovely smile from the waiter, a generous handshake from the manager… It all felt so nice. But the place was damn noisy. A orchestra was playing the latest bollywood number with the loudest music I have ever heard in a closed room. Suddenly the name Night City seemed to be Sound City… Or rather “City of record noise pollution”. But still the ambiance was nice. We were enjoying it as the waiter was ushering us to our seats. We also noticed many young beautiful women dressed up in most feminine attire standing randomly and enjoying the music. And that’s when it SUDDENLY occurred to us that we had accidentally landed up in a LADIES DANCE BAR. Now a discussion for a strategic plan to get out of the restaurant immediately (that too after such a warm welcome from such heavily build men) could not happen because of ear splitting music. So we just grabbed our seats without any fuss. Looked at each other with confusion and curiosity. Had to get out of that place quickly. So ordered one beer and a Thumps Up. But it would be unfair on my part to not mention the amazingly beautiful girls trying to flirt all around across 360 degrees. If we would have ignored the fact that the lovely girls around us were prostitutes, I am sure there was a possibility of Love at first sight. That’s all I can say to describe the beauty of those girls. Never in my life had I experienced such strong seduction power of feminism. SOS. We had to get out of there as soon as possible.

We ordered for the bill and paid a whooping ten times higher cost for what we had ordered. Imagine a Rs 20/- Thumps Up costing you Rs 200/-. I guess the entertainment tax was too high considering what we experienced. The captain servicing us would not let off my hand when I shook his hand. He hinted for a tip, which actually made me think of kicking his butt. But looking at his size I just politely kept shaking his hand till he released it with disappointment… sensing that the tip was a distant dream. When we were out of the restaurant… We started to curse ourselves for the misjudgment. I suggested out of frustration to head towards marine drive. And we all three went. Another mistake.

We reached Marine drive at around 9:30 pm. Enjoyed taking in the cool breeze from the sea. Remembered the women we loved and the women we lost. And then suddenly one of my friends wanted to buy a computer part from lamington road. It was 11:45 pm. Still we went. But all the shops had closed down. Now my office colleague suggested hurrying up to the nearest station which happened to be Grant Road, so as not to miss the last local train. But unfortunately I had seen the movie “Ek Chalise Ki Last Local”. So I suggested them not to hurry. And we leisurely walked towards the grant road station. We reached at 12:45am. Way before Ek Chalise. But the last train had left at 12:40 am. I cursed the movie and my friends cursed me. Now the option of hiring a cab was out of reach considering the night charges. So we decided to hunt for a restaurant for dinner. But let me tell you something. At 1 am at night, not a single shop is open in Mumbai town. But luckily for us, we found one young chap who had also had the same fate as ours (missed the last local). He was a local and agreed to take us to the nearest restaurant. And we three went.

The restaurant we reached at was closed. Only the shutter was slightly opened. I thought it to be a shady joint. But when we entered it, we were amazed to see so many people having their dinner. The cabbies, the hawkers, and beggars. It was chaos. But we still managed to get a seat. The hygiene was of least priority at that place. To such an extend that when we were having our cold drink, what we considered as ice crystals in our thumps up turned out to be washing soda from the not so properly washed glass. But the food was amazing and damn cheap. Delicious food I must say. Lip smacking. And then we saw two foreigners enter and sit besides us. That moment was crazy. Two sophisticated foreigners eating in such a shabby place. It happens only in Mumbai I guess.

After food we rested at one of the footpaths. It was 2:45 am. We had to kill time till 4:30am (That’s when the first train starts) And we had loads of it to kill. Kind of hunters. Deadly time killing machines. We got chairs to sit near one Pan Shop which was partially closed. The shopkeeper was sleeping but every now and then, odd people disturbed him for buying something or the other. But we soon found one massage guy. And we took his service. Damn cheap and damn good. Felt like king. But then we started getting lot of unwanted attention from odd people. At night in Mumbai, there are many. So we decided to go to the nearest ATM where we could rest. Coz it has light and watchman.

But on our way to search an ATM, we got lost and landed up in a RED LIGHT area. Again loads of prostitutes. What the hell. I guess god was simply tempting us with the worlds most basic sin. But we didn’t give in. Many pimps started offering us the best deals. I never knew that one hour with a women costs only Rs 600/-. And there was continuous inflow of beautiful prostitutes in that area. We got scared. Just imagine the worst case scenario. 3 young guys are caught by police in a red light area at 3:45 am. Who would believe that we were innocent? So we hurried up. Again cautiously, as we did not wanted to attract any attention. And then as if the nightmare had come true, we saw cops. Staring at us. We cursed the entire night. But luckily for us, the cops were there to use the services themselves. Phew… So they didn’t bother us. Sometimes corruption really saves you. HeHe.

We reached the Grant Road Station at 4:40 am. The feeling of being safe from the cops and jail and social embarrassment was so damn posted on our faces. Now that’s what I call as Facebook. But instead of taking train to home, we again decided to go to marine drive. I know it sound crazy. But we did. And enjoyed the morning cool breeze from the sea. I finally reached my friends place at 8 am. Slept for only 2 hours as I had to attend this one engagement ceremony of my cousin in the morning. And that’s how I was so damn sleepy during the ceremony. But that night was a night to remember. And decided to never roam Mumbai at night.

But rules are to be broken. And that was just the beginning. After that first night, there have been so many nights wherein I have spend my nights roaming in Mumbai (town) on bike with my best pal, admiring the night life and getting mesmerised by it. And every single time the last point of the journey has been the edge of marine drive, the edge of the city, enjoying the cool morning breeze from the sea, and remembering the women we loved and the women we lost.

The Real INDIA

First thing… I know it a biggest cliché to write about India on 15th August. But still I could not resist. Sometimes I am a slave to my own writing.

I have not the seen the real India yet. So this blog would not be like one those many articles that jam the pages of almost all dailies (newspapers) on every 26th and 15th of every year. But you can expect some amount of truth and honest opinion about India considering the fact that I have traveled to places like West Bengal, Gujarat, Rajasthan, Jammu, Madhya Pradesh, Punjab and Goa. I know that this much traveling is too less to draw a final conclusion but it’s sufficient to draw a rough sketch of that conclusion.

And all I can say after much of my traveling is that India is different. Different from the images projected by bollywood and television, different from what’s written about it and different from what a youth in a metro city has an idea about it. And it has its reasons why things have to be different. Coz the lives of almost 90% people in this country is such that once they die… their story would be lost for ever. (I guess I am also one of those 90%. May be that’s why the desperate attempt at bloging.) And these 90% people are the real India. The mango people. AAM ADMI.

But then there is no need to register so many stories. I know that. What’s the point in knowing how an odd doctor who used to live in pre partition era Bangladesh was forced to migrate with great difficulty to West Bengal during partition to start again from scratch? (By the way, that’s my grandfather’s story) Or how a soldier who spend most of his youth freezing in cold chilling winds of north and one day died without any action because a single bullet from the enemy side hit him at the wrong spot. But then that’s what this country is made of.

India is not about the “Top 30 or 50 Indian’s who are world famous”. (I read one such list on 15th Aug in Hindustan Times). First thing, what’s the big deal about such list from a country which has the second largest population? Second thing, such list will have majority of individuals who either only have their roots linked to India or are no more settled in India. India is about the daily commuters who travel for two tiresome hours daily just to earn a living. People who have a daily routine as boring as the worst bollywood flick you must have ever seen. People whose entire life is as boring as the one most boring hour of your life. They make India. And not the spicy snippets of a actor or businessman. Actually majority of Indian’s are least bothered whether Deepika Padukone is dating Ranbir Kapoor or Siddhart Mallya… Ok. Wrong track.

India is not about some over qualified jerk simply contributing to the huge brain drain that we face every year. Getting in NASA and inventing something. And making the country proud. Wow… that’s a cliché. Isn’t it? Or some individuals born in foreign country, adapted to foreign culture, know too little about India, may not have visited a single India village… why do we still tend to label their success as India’s success? It’s about the people who really make a difference to the society here. India’s success lies in the achievements of the people living here. Mother Teresa was not an Indian origin. But she is the Indian Hero. Gandhi may have studied in a foreign law school… But he is the Indian Hero. I would say Amir Khan is the India hero. Contributing so much entertainment to our society. A local police inspector who saves a child in Mumbai floods. A school teacher. A journalist.

Making money is not bad. Going out of the country to explore and earn is great. But then acting like a jerk from one of the many Yashraj and Karan Johar movies who will constantly keep saying “Mera Bharat Mahan” inspite of spending so many years in a foreign country. That’s weird. Because the basic logic is that people don’t ever leave what they love. That’s what I personally believe in.

India is also not about clean cities, good roads, and luxury. Because many still don’t know the meaning of luxury. In the interiors of India, the definition of luxury is basic necessity. If a family has electricity, water, and medical facility, they are living in luxury. India is about not having enough money to spend, worries about the future of children, lack of social security. That’s India.

And by mistake if you ever thought that India is about changing mentality, broad minded youth and new horizon of thoughts, I feel sorry to let you down. Because even today things like dowry and gender biasness is India’s forte. A youth in India may talk a great deal about being broad minded. But they still are so damn hooked on cast & creed system and old age superstitions. And all this are so well displayed during the time of their marriage. This is a country where irrespective of his deeds and worth, almost every guy wants a virgin wife and dowry. Great and pathetic. Or should I say, pathetically great. An Indian youth, irrespective of gender, while marrying will prefer a partner from his or her cast, a partner who is not Maglik and with whom the Kundali matches. And all this will be done so smartly stating the reason of “listening to the parents” as an excuse. In other words, respecting parents. That’s India for you. A joke in the name of broad minded youth. So you see, we have sustained our age old traditions of kundali and all. But does that mean we are preserving our culture. Huh. Not really. Many youths are quite disabled when it comes to communicate in their mother tongue. Many languages, traditions and customs in India are on the verge of extinctions.

But India is also not that gloomy as projected by a pessimistic jerk like me. India is about festivals and customs. They are great fun in small towns and villages. In cities festivals are just like some formalities which are followed with compulsion. Ya… so I was talking about India’s positive point. I can start to write about the economic growth and all. But I am sure there are many jaded journalist and writers to write about all those things. But I will say one last thing. I don’t know who, but some astrologer had predicted that India will be a super power someday. I am sure many Indian’s will believe that… Not because they think positive, but because they believe in astrology. Ha Ha.

First few shower's

Its 2 am. I just finished watching the FIFA WORLDCUP second match of the first day between France and Uruguay. Nobody scored, and I cursed both the teams for wasting my sleeping hours. Came to my room (den) to write a blog for criticising the hype created by this FIFA. (Specially when a team like France is not able to score even a single goal. What the hell were they practicing all this months?? May be “How not to score any goal and not loose”. But then suddenly I witnessed for the first time at leisure the rain outside my window. Couldn’t resist opening the window and getting the freshness of rain on my face. And the thought of criticizing the FIFA just went into the recycle bin of my brain. FIFA got saved.

Now the topic was clear. But then everyone knows the specialty of that first shower of the season. The aroma of soil, the wind, the lightning (Not always though) and excitement. But my excitement was more to do with my past feeling associated with the rains rather than the present feel of the rain.

Just remembered the time I used to play Football on road with my boys gang during my teens. And we did use to score pretty number of goals. (France... Please take a note of this). Though we always had shortfall of footballs… coz roads have vehicles on them and footballs are not made to come under the tires of any auto or bike and still not burst.

Remembered the rainy season in college days. Never did I carry an umbrella in my entire college life. Somehow I did manage pretty well. Any nowadays I need an umbrella even to go to any nearby shop. Perfect sign which shows that I have grown old. (and boring). Many a times while going to college I did get all wet to such extend that I could not attend a lecture. But then that was so normal for a backbencher like me. Hahaha.

Remembered the few instances when had some romantic moments in the rain. Wow. The girl was all wet. (No pun intended) Me too. And that lightening with a loud bang. Scary enough to drive the girl into my arms with lightening speed. ;) But then the only issue was that there were too many arms. Coz I would be in a crowd of students with the girl being totally stranger to me. In rainy season, even if you don’t know a girl, something really clicks and there seems to be a start of a romantic love story. The only problem being that the girl should also feel the same. But then I guess with guys like me (purely average) that’s the problem in all the seasons. Hehehe.

Also remembered the Mumbai rainy season in the year 2005 where every thing just came to a standstill. Every person living in Mumbai cant forget that. Wow. Now that’s what I call a rainy season. I really pitied the people living in Cherapunji (the place with highest rainfall in India). And felt Bombay to have got transformed into another Cherapunji during those 3 days.

In my life many beautiful things have happened in the rainy season. Many of my life changing decisions have happened in rain. Believe me. It may sound exaggerating but major twists in my life have happened when I was either completely or partially drenched in rain.

A biotechnology student who was more interested in becoming a flight steward and had got approval from his mother to become one… changed his mind to do MBA and joined classes for CAT. That happened purely because of rains. It was that one day when it was raining so heavily and I was supposed to go and get MBA entrance exam details (just for formality to show my parents) and also visit Frankfin Academy to enroll myself for Steward training. Coz that’s what I wanted to be. But I got so drenched in rains that day that I decided to postpone my visit to Frankfin keeping in mind that the first impression has to be good. And since I was least bothered about doing a MBA, impression least bothered for making an inquiry in one of the coaching classes for CAT. I still remember the expression on the face of the counselor at that coaching class when she looked at me… all wet from head to toe. Water was dripping from my pants and t shirt. She got even more pissed when I sat on one of the chairs. But I cared a damn. But later I actually got enrolled in the same class and did my MBA. Now that's a twist.

Now whenever I look at rains… I do remember that one fateful rainy day. Also the view of a heavy loud rain shower does fill my heart with the thoughts of many people. Like the friend with whom I had got stuck at one place for 2 full days because of rains. That place was my home. Or that memory of someone with whom I had witnessed a wonderful rainy evening. Or that cousin with whom I used to ride bicycle in rainy season. Wow. Sometimes it seems that life is all about collecting memories.

And while writing this blog, the last thought that came to my mind was what does this rainy season has in store for me?? May be something as refreshing and beautiful as the rain itself. :)

THE PEANUT THEORY by BIDHAN

“Real Love Is A Pilgrimage. It Happens When There Is No Strategy, But It Is Very Rare Because Most People Are Strategists". Anita Brookner

These lines are not mine.. But the blog is. So read on….

I am going to put forward a theory that is a by product of my idle time where I had nothing else to do. This theory may not be as great as say… Theory of gravity or say theory of relativity. But hey… even theory of gravity was made by Newton when he was seating under an apple tree and that too idle. I was always fascinated by Newton who gave theory of gravity or say Einstein who gave theory of relativity. So always had an urge to give some kind of theory of my own. Since I could not do MSc and PhD in Physics (the world missed one brilliant scientist I must say), I have formulated my own theories on life, humans, phenomenon, behavior etc (easy topics on which even a junior college student can write a 20 marks essay). But in the process I do stumble upon some interesting facts or phenomenon which are so common yet so mind boggling. And such is one theory… The Peanut Theory.

Ok. To tell you frankly… One fine day I didn’t have much work in office… and I just made this hypothetically practical theory. PEANUT THEORY. I don’t know how much of it is hypothetical or how much is practical. But I personally believe that its 100% practical. Considering the fact that I have made this theory… I must get some benefit of doubt. Ha Ha .

Ok. The theory goes like this…

THE PEANUT THEORY

[Statuary Warning : I have very high regards for all woman and don’t consider any of them even a bit like peanuts, Cash nuts or for that matter NUTS]

According to The Peanut Theory… Beauty and qualification of a girl is directly proportional to their likelihood to end up marrying some rich guy, completely irrespective of how he treats her and whether he loves her or not.

Now ofcourse this utmost common phenomenon may sound so ridiculous to be made into a theory at all in the first place… and so I am sure that many of you would just be wanting to close this blog page to actually do something useful with your time…. Really?? How useful is facebook than actually being just a place for vanity fair?? So please do go ahead reading few more lines.

Now imagine girls to be like nuts. The smart ones will be almond. The beauty with brains will be cash nuts. The not so beautiful or not so qualified will be peanuts. When we take nuts into account… the best quality always gets exported to foreign shores so that the people with bigger pockets can have even bigger belly enjoying those nuts (and then actually waste major part of rest of the life in reducing that belly). The nuts which remain in the country are again sorted out. The rich will pay for the best quality and get the best and finally a poor chap with few coins in his pocket would end up paying Rs 2 for fist full of peanuts which he would buy from a roadside vendor, with a poor sense of hygiene and even poorer quality of peanuts. But then the poor chap would not even bother to think why he is liable to get only those peanuts?
Similar phenomenon with mangoes. The classic alphonso would get exported and the domestics market would get flooded with chemically ripened, fake alphosoes. Again a local poor chap will actually never get a pure alphoso in his lifetime even if the mango is being cultivated at the backyard compound of this house. But then he won’t question anything. Not even a single word woul be uttered about him not getting the mango. Because its so acceptable.

Now if you compare Indian girls to peanuts or mangoes... A very similar pattern is observed. Parents of a beautiful girl are so damn hooked on getting her married to a NRI. Even if there is a brilliant, smart, good natured dude in the same locality. Even the girl would be getting desperate to get hooked up with someone super rich, probably settled abroad. She would be trying all her means like the boon of virtual world, matrimonial portals. Chatting up with strangers to get selected, showcasing her fake inclination towards love, values and principles and sometimes even getting downright dirty just in case someone chooses her. She would start dating only guys who have even the slightest hint of flying away. And ofcourse… The rich guys do feast on these free lunches a lot. It does remind me of the great wilder beast migration and feast enjoyed by crocodiles when these huge numbers of wilder beast cross the rivers.

I don’t say that all this is not justified. It may be. I am not the judge. I am just a 25 year old guy with zero real time knowledge of world outside my country. May be crossing the river for greener pastures is really worth.

But then I really don’t get the obsession of getting settled abroad. The mindset which our society has created just doesn’t appeal to me. For example, a recent television commercial of Tanishq Jewellery shows an independent girl who is not interested in marriage proposal. But she agrees to marry just because she looks pretty in jewellery. Also the parents while describing the guy strongly put forward that the guy is settled abroad. Now to our society, a guy settled abroad has become a certificate of eligibility to become a good son-in-law. Why can’t the ad just say that the guy is working in India with a good job, blah… blah…blah? But the sad part is that the ad shows reality.

One more brilliant example of what I am trying to say. 3 Idiots. Watched by millions. Loved by millions. In that movie the actress, Kareena got engaged to a guy who considered her just a utility factor. But what the heck… he was rich. She didn’t love him… still she was very much ready to marry him. Again the utility factor. Now even after the lead actor, Amir Khan explains the actress that marring her fiancée would be one of the greatest mistake of her life… after many years the actress is again shown getting married to the same guy. Utility factor. We can not pass this as an out of the blue phenomenon showcased only in a movie. This actually happens in real lives. Infact in real life the bride would not have broken off the marriage even after having the realizations. That’s the reasons you see many rich jerks having a beautiful wife on their side. Even in the movie, the geek guy, Chatur Lingam is shown having a very sexy beautiful wife. I doubt that a snob guy like that would become an ideal husband… But then what the heck. And when his wife realizes this fact that in only one lifetime she chose wealth over a caring and loving partner… It would be too late.

By the way… I am not trying to accuse each and every girl of being a gold digger. I do understand that guys also go only for fair and beautiful girls with good income. And I truly acknowledge that even this phenomenon is a curse to the society. But being a guy I took just one aspect of argument. Nothing against girls and their parents. Its just a general theory.

But many will argue that the parents are concerned about the luxury of their daughter and so its fair enough to use her sex appeal and cash cow status to get a rich guy for her. (Cash cow is a marketing term meaning something that is giving high returns and ofcourse a well qualified girl is a cash cow in all sense) This mentality shows one aspect of human nature, which is to associate happiness with materialistic things i.e. money. Also another argument may crop up that people don’t have time to fall in love… so the bank balance parameter is the best parameter to judge a guy. Great. But these are just arguments to cover up the greatest game of utility. People try to find the utility factor in each other. They become the strategist. And as mentioned earlier, strategists can’t love. The concept of marriage being a pairing of two souls has become lost somewhere. Arrange marriages have just become something like buying a pet from a super duper hyper market.

But then why do people dream about getting that true love? Because somewhere deep down their heart, they know that it’s the presence of true love in their life that actually make the difference between spending a normal good life or spending a fantastic loving caring blissful life. Why don’t girls just go for their college sweetheart? Or the guy they really fell in love with. That would actually defy the peanut theory. Yes. The Peanut Theory does not work with respect to True Love. That’s why a true love is comparable to a pilgrimage. A journey where the expectation of ROI (Returns on investment) is negligible. One would surely find atleast few couples around who fell in love without the utility factor in mind and then lived happily ever after. There are many such couples. Coz even today, true love finds its way… It’s just a matter of patience and belief.

Good night Rockstar..tc

Now the title may not make any sense to you… But reading the blog will surely make sense out of the title. But don’t take it as incentive from my side to make you read the whole blog. Hahaha. Coz ofcourse the title “Goodnight Rockstar” will generate all kinds of fantasies, queries and expectations from this blog. And so as not to disappoint you (if at all the blog doesn’t stand up to your expectations and fantasies) I will give a brief of what is to come.

This blog is a piece of impulsive writing which was inspired by just one SMS by someone very close. It’s about my journey or rather beginning of my journey of inclination towards MUSIC. All the people not interested in music… This would be the perfect time to stop reading this blog and continue with your not so important work. “Not so important” coz if it would have been important then you would not have been reading this blog in the first place. This blog is about how I ended up buying a Guitar on impulse. Hmmm… It may not sound a big deal. But believe me… there is huge difference between buying a Rs 650 /- Tee Shirt on impulse and buying a Rs 7000 /- Guitar on impulse.

So here it goes… One fine Sunday morning I got up without the slightest hint that I would be joining a guitar class. Now that Sunday was also like any other Sundays… which simply means that it started at 11 am. Now after getting up I am always glued to the idiot box (television) for almost 2 hours (even I don’t know why… jut that old habit die hard). But not this time… Coz I saw Saif on television playing like a rockstar on television. Now that’s when I jump… freshened up… dressed up and grabbed my bike keys to head towards the nearest music classes for admission enquiry.

Now don’t start thinking that I am the most proactive stupid jerk to act so passively. Actually I have always had an inclination towards learning an instrument. Many of us do have. And if not to learn an instrument, then at least to learn something else. But we don’t do it. Coz we love to postpone our desires. Remember that trip which you are planning from months. It won’t happen. Coz you will postpone it. Remember that course you wanted to do, that exam you wanted to prepare for, that restaurant you wanted to eat out at, that routine you wanted to follow, that classes you wanted to join. All that just won’t happen. Coz as I said… YOU WILL POSTPONE IT. That’s YOU. That’s US. So on that Sunday, I jumped out my chair, and drove on my bike towards the nearest music classes known to me (and of course which I wanted to join from ages) because I did not wanted to postpone it any longer. Once I was on my way… all other things were easy. I got enrolled for guitar classes that moment itself. And also decided to attend the class that day itself.

My first class was pretty interesting and easy. It’s like you love the swimming pool as a beginner till the time you are playing in the shallow waters. But once you enter the deep waters and gulp down some water… you feel screwed. Learning Guitar is same. But then you start enjoying once the rhythm starts touching your heart and soul. The sound of music has its own ecstasy. Our body has been functioning according to our mind from too long. We do every thing told by our brain. But that’s just being like a computerized mechanical robot. We need to put our SOUL in the driving seat. Our every movement should be handed over to our soul. Then life seems to be so beautiful. And that’s when great music is created. With the soul in it. One’s soul needs to play the guitar and not just the fingers. I learned all this from my sir in guitar classes. He also say’s that musician needs to be shameless. And that’s what I am best at. He he he. So it would be quite easy. And for the first time I actually realize that the guitar is not just a thing to show off but a fine instrument to create awesome music. WOW.

The day I joined my guitar classes, I was glad as I was on my way to pursue one of my passions. MUSIC. But then it also turned out to be a bad day as I had a final showdown with one of my very close friend. Beginning and end of two things on the same day. That’s Life. So… moving on ahead in life, my next step was to buy a guitar. A good acoustic one. If that sounds too simple, kindly change your perception. With a mere budget of Rs 3,500 /- I went to buy a guitar with all the beginners info in the memory cells of my brain (gathered after days of research on Google). But as a beginner one is sure to be bogged down by the sheer number of guitars displayed and also the almost negligible sound difference that all the guitars make to a learner ears. The sales person attending me had a hell of a time because I made him play almost 10 different guitars and kept on asking the same info almost n number of times. I took one and a half hour to choose a guitar of best brand and quality. I had over shot my budget by 100 % which means double (for you weak in mathematics). But then I am crazy about quality. I am a crazy perfection finicky freak. But the real height of freakishness happened when the salesman has packed the guitar I chose with such detailing and was half way through with the billing formalities. I saw this guitar of YAMAHA brand hanging in one corner. It was actually love at first sight. I asked the salesman to stop whatever activity he was doing and simply told him to change the guitar. Now his somewhat angry + puzzled expression was so damn justified because he had spend his one hour explaining me why I should buy the guitar which was being packed. And he was successful too… until I laid my eyes on my sweetheart (YAMAHA Guitar). Now this new guitar which I chose was also sure too burn a hole in my pocket which it did fantastically coz it was worth Rs 7000 /-. Exactly double the price of what I had thought to spend initially. But as I told earlier, it’s really worth acting listening to you heart rather than the usual practical bullshit thinking we do in our daily life.

Practical thinking. Practical decisions. That’s the trend these days. Why we don’t see beyond what is more economically for us. We choose a job which would make us capable of buying a sea facing flat rather than a job which may make every working day of ours to be fun. Practical thought. Very right. We go for a partner who is capable of giving us the luxuries of life rather than the one whom we loved. Practical decision. Even parents are happy. Great. (Though not all couples do that… coz some lucky ones spend lifetime together) And slowly but steadily we start this practical decision process in every aspect of our life. But we would never know the worth of living life on impulse. From our heart. That’s why really admire artists, singers, journalists, writers, photographers etc. These people had no motive to take up these professions other than their interest. I occasionally come across people who listen to their heart and really do admire them for that. Coz I want to be like that. Just imagine that if you die and still are given a second chance in life, would you be doing the same things that you have done? Would you take the same decisions which you have taken? However minor they are.

Coming back to my musical adventure, my daily routine has a spice of music in it now. Learning music can we as enchanting as that rush of first love. Playing music can be as soothing as romance. But still I was missing something in this musical journey. I didn’t know what it was. I am fast learner. I was doing great. But still some emptiness. But then of fine day I played a melody for a very close friend of mine. I played it with a shyness of a beginner. But still played it pretty well. It was not up to the perfection. But my friend liked it. And that night before going to bed, I received a SMS form her which read, “Good night rockstar..tc”. Somehow this SMS really made sense about one thing to me. That music should be not just for our own selfish pleasure. A true musician is one who can actually create a difference in other people’s life. Even a smile is worth the learning.

I am a guy who sometimes watches a movie in theater all alone. I need my space and many a times am locked up in my own self. But this learning that music should be played for others is great. After that I even played a Happy Birthday melody for one of my nieces and she was all so happy because she found it very special. It was not much about the appreciation that I got but the smile which I found on the lips of my niece. It clearly told me one thing that “Dude, you are learning music with the right attitude”. And I guess that’s how a great musician is made.

Purpose of Survival

WHY DO I EXIST??

Now it’s not a cliche sentence. Unless it’s asked out of frustration. But the same question asked with a cool and calm mind surely shows a sign of mature thinking. Sometimes in everyone’s life comes a point where one ponders over this question. Why do I exist? The question is a kind of a paradox in itself, because one can only speculate the answer’s but never conclude any single answer. Now don’t start questioning the importance of this question coz it’s as silly a question like “How did the time begin?” or “When is the doomsday?” These questions are utter nonsensical in our daily life. Similarly, the question about our existence. The answer won’t make any difference in the way we live our life… But everyone is sure to stumble upon this question during the course of what we call as LIFE.

A professional footballer aged 23 playing for a club in some European country and earning a fat salary is sure to make a 23 year old sitting in a third world underdeveloped country wonder about his own existence. Like “What am I doing at 23? Look at that footballer. He is a star. What am I?”

But this question is more drive by a desire to become popular. But now imagine a young girl aged 16 year sitting in her balcony doing nothing and pondering over the reason of her existence. She just wants the answer. It’s just the curiosity. That’s the question I am talking about.

I completely disagree to believe that I am here just to get up every morning to go to office, earn money, spend it with my family and friends, have lot of good and bad time and one day just die. That’s it?? That’s the average life of everyone. Now some people may go on beyond this average life to become someone who can make a difference in the society. Like a President, Social worker, Leader, artist, Journalist, activist etc. But is that again a reason for our survival?? Making a difference. Why should be making a difference be so much of an importance. Why can’t an average life of an ordinary guy be considered worth living? By making a difference, at the most what will happen is one will be remembered forever… Like Mr. Gandhi’s pic got printed on Indian currency. We see him during every money transaction (though credit/ debit cards are preventing us). But the point I am trying to raise is whether a person like Mr. Gandhi has justified his existence? Was his existence more valuable than any average guy? I don’t know the answer… but I would like to believe it as NO.

Just a weird thought… even a prostitute makes a difference to the society by letting her body be used to fulfill the desires of lust. But that’s a taboo in our country. I can really understand why some countries have legalized prostitution. It is a job. Very much a job. Fulfill the need of the people and make profit. That’s the simple and most basic marketing rule. Hahahaa.

So… coming back to the question of our existence. Are we here to just give love? Now the term love itself is so subjective. Let’s not get into it. Are we here to spread happiness? Again a very subjective term. For that matter even a sadist becomes happy when he sees someone suffer. And why is the feeling of being sad projected to be so negative. Sadness, Anger, Jealousy, Greed, Lust are part of human emotions and they are bound to show up from time to time. But then why are they projected to be so bad. Only being happy is good. That’s it. It would have been so boring then. So I don’t think in any way that spreading happiness would be our purpose. Are we here to do good deeds? The outlines of good or bad deeds have been defined by humans. So good deeds are again subjective. I cant understand why helping someone is termed good deed. We are social animal. So helping someone should be a rule or responsibility. But how can it be a good deed? And why is not helping someone bad? In nature animals don’t help each other except someone within a same group or blood relative. But we humans have made rules to help other (which is fine wit me) and also termed it as good (which is not fine with me). So we being here for doing good deeds is again a nonsense thought.

Are we here for just having sex?? According to Darwin’s theory of evolution, mammals and many other beings have this mechanism of reproduction through opposite sex to have a better chance of survival of the species. In genetic terms… Shuffling of the genes to make it more adaptive to the changes in the environment. So we need a male and female who would have sex and reproduce to make sure that the species continues. And then die. And if there is no sex, then no reproduction and no kids and no living things. So it’s like I am a machine with limited functional time and mechanism to create another machine. To stream line this whole process of survival of species, we human have created concept of marriage. Wow… we are smart.

But we being here only to continue our specie is such a weird thought. Coz why is our specie required to exist in the first place? And also why cant we live forever?? Like say gods. Why this tedious process of birth, life reproduction death etc?? I am Clueless.

But now if one looks at oneself with respect to this universe… one would find that we are so minute in this whole vast universe that our survival hardly matters at all. Yes. If tomorrow we all living things are to perish from this planet earth, it will make no difference to the rotation of earth, its revolution around the sun, revolution of the Milky Way, expansion of galaxies time etc. If you see the time from which this universe has existed… you would find that the existence of life on earth has been for just a fraction of time that has passed till now. It means that to space and time, our existence does not matter.

I would like to end this whole topic on a very philosophical note. Yes. The answer to why we exist.

We exist for our loved ones. Let the living being be aside. But if your existence vanishes, the only ones to be effected would be your loved ones. They will keep thinking about your presence. You presence will be stored in their memory till the time of their existence.

But the answer still seems to be incomplete. If God exists… I really wonder why did he take the trouble to actually create LIFE.

Save the Tiger... Crap....

SAVE THE TIGER, 1411 LEFT……WHAT A CRAP.

Hahahhaha… I would have loved to see the expression on your face. Yup. You. The readers of this blog. Now don’t jump to conclusion that I am a cynic. I do become one… sometimes. But now I am not being one. Ok. It’s a very subjective opinion of mine (that’s the beauty of a subjective opinion that nobody can question you….hehehe)…that this campaign is a CRAP. Waste. Useless. Zero on ROI (Return On Investment). Mind you not for the company who made this campaign or the company sponsoring this campaign but for the TIGERS.

This campaign is a hit. No doubt. Everybody just went gaga over it. Awesome campaign. All people seemed to have noticed it (I wonder how many poachers noticed it). The topic is gaining attention like a biggest scandal of the country. (It will even die its natural death like one). People are discussing it during casual dinners and lunch and even tea breaks. It has stirred a emotional cord in peoples mind. And then how can discussions on the virtual world be far behind?? Lots of blogs written on the subject. The topic gaining popularity on twitter and Facebook. The campaign must have done wonders for the sponsors (Aircell) in building the overall brand image. Also the campaign may go ahead to win some never heard of advertising award. The Cub (shown in the ad)… I guess named stripey or stripty, has become the favorite among the crowds (So sad that he/she wont ever know). I guess I may be the only one writing a bit negative about the whole affair. (If anyone out there has same feelings… do reach out… I am so deprived of like minded peoples)

BUT. Here comes some different angle to the whole story. Will this whole awareness drive actually save the Tigers?? I guess not. Tigers will go down. (I don’t want them to… but they will). Poachers just won’t stop by reading this saddening figure of 1411. By the way.. How did they get to this edgy figure? One thousand four hundred and eleven only. Didn’t even leave those eleven tigers to count. From when did our officials became so efficient.. and that too in jungles??? Great. Rather very fishy

So I was saying that the poachers just won’t stop by looking at the figure of 1411. The Cub shown in the ad will surely get shot when he/she grows old. But may be not with a digital SLR camera… But may be with a double barrel long range hunting rifle. Does the campaign tell us how a common man can actually contribute to saving the tiger??? NO. Even if it did… it would not have mattered. You know why. Because nobody is bothered about it. Reaching out the message of depleting number of tigers to a common man just won’t help. Common man is not able to organize efforts to save human life (from terrorism, train travels, road accidents, farmer suicides etc) Saving a Tiger is out of question. Now anyways a common man in the first place should not have the onus of saving the Tiger. I will tell you why.
I myself am a common man. Now the government of India each year spends huge amount of money to conduct entrance exams across the country for the higher posts in various administrative offices like say an IAS officer. Intelligent people clear the exams. Then further they go through other stages of filtering to bring out the best of the best men. The cream crowd. They are recruited at administrative heads of various departments mostly with a fat salary. And also the other privileges enjoyed by Government employee of that level. They can make things happen in terms of administration. Still this campaign expects a common man like me (a salaried employee in a private company who hardly has any time left beyond earning his living and working towards a better future) to react to the campaign and save the tigers. Great. Bravo.

Now the hysteria created on internet by many is also the biggest crap I have come across. Writing blogs or raising the issue again and again. Only discussions. Its very easy to write about saving the tigers on net. And propagating it. You just have to go through some few sites reading about SAVING THE TIGERS. Then vomiting the same thing… raw and fresh on the same virtual world. And height of it all is... people start thinking themselves as responsible citizens to have raised this issue and discussing it.(even if on net) They feel proud to have contributed in national effort in saving the tigers. Hahahaha. Now that’s a real CRAP.

The first step of saving the tigers would start in the forests or jungles of India. In the black markets along the borders where the tiger skin is traded. In the AC conference halls where meetings of top level administrative officers takes place. In the small rooms of our special task forces where strategy to stop poaching is being chalked out.
The Campaign running across our TV, hoardings, radio, and internets can stir them up a bit. But does the Aircell campaign really tell us what steps have been implemented to save the figure of 1411??? But till the time there is no action being taken… I would really love to see this fake concerns among people on net about the Tiger protection to not show itself. Why are people not concerned about Rhino, king Cobra, cruelty towards dogs, sheep’s or any other animals? Concern about tiger is concern towards ecology. But how many of us showing concern towards tigers actually have concern towards ecology??? Do we recycle paper? Do we minimize the use of printers? Do we print on both sides of a paper? Do we switch off lights; turn off taps, wherever and whenever possible to conserve energy. Minimize waste by proper disposal of garbage. If answer to many such questions is NO… then the concern to save Tigers is FAKE. Nothing but a pure mass hysteria. Successful mass hysteria by a successful CRAP campaign.

Let’s see if our grand children will see any tiger in real??? Interesting question... Isn’t it???

A Day In A Life Of A Salesman....

(In the following blog, you may find me considering only men as salesman and not women. But it’s not intentional. So don’t accuse me of being gender biased…. As if I care)

Words like Employee of the month, door to door, pestering, field job, irritating phone calls, targets etc have become very much associated with the word SALESMAN. And it has a reason. Coz that’s all we talk and hear when we discuss a SALESMAN. The perception that he (salesman) would just con (convince) you into buying something (product) absolutely unnecessary to you (actually necessary… otherwise you wont buy it in the first place)… just to fulfill (achieve) his cunning motives (monthly target) has become so much embossed in the minds of most of the people that the word “bugger” is just replacing the word salesman. Am I exaggerating things??? I guess not. Just notice the faces of the people when they encounter any sales man or the pitch and tone of their voice when they receive a call from any salesman... You would see exactly what I mean. But I am not critisicing these general perception about a salesman… coz it has its own reason. The idea of this blog is just to put forward the psychology of a salesman during an average day. It’s like trying to understand what goes in a monkey’s head when he glares at you through the bars of a zoo cage. Sorry if that’s a disastrous example… but I hope you get the drift.

So…first we find a monkey…. I mean a salesman. So I take great honor and also a bit of pleasure to introduce you to our specimen for this topic… its ME. Hmmm… Now just don’t start evaluating the credibility of this blog just because now you know that it has been written by a salesman. Yes…. I am SALESMAN and the first thing that I would like to say (scream) is that a salesman is far more beyond being just a bugger. Some can be sometimes pain in the “you know where”… But let’s not stereotype the whole species of Salesman for this. The sales job has its own up’s and down… has its own adventure and misadventures… But then what the heck…. It’s all in a days work.

The best way to showcase this is to take you through one average day in my professional life. I don’t promise it to be as interesting as going through one average day of John Abrahim (for girls)… or an average day of Katrina Kaif (For guys…) or an average day of Prince of England. But who doesn’t consider himself as Prince in some way or the other. So here we go…. (I just love saying this)

Clock time: 7:30 am
Location: Between the sheets in my OWN bed (Alone)
The Day starts….and I wanna sleep some more. I don’t feel like getting out of those sheets. Not because I am tired and lazy… But may be because at the back of my mind I know that it is going be a long day ahead. So my dad has the task of waking me up. And somehow he succeeds till 8 am. Again coz at the back of my mind I know that being late will cause me one firing squad treatment in Boss’s cabin. I would rather avoid that firing squad. Hey… if so much is happening at the back of my mind… how does anyone expect me to sleep anyways? But I always end up realizing this at 8 am (why not at 7:30 which would have made me Mr. Punctual in office). Time to start the RUSH HOUR. The movie by the same name was nothing. The actual rush hour is what I do between 8 am to 9:10 am.

Clock time: 9:10 am
Location: Mumbai local (just imagine a can filled with people instead of beans)
At 9:10 I get sandwiched between people in one of the overcrowded locals of Mumbai. I never crib about crowded trains. But do feel like punching people who do. Coz they fail to understand the fact that they also increase the crowd due to their own existence. They are also the part of the crowd. But in that crowd I get the 1 hour of leisure time. And then starts the thought process. Recalling all the follow-ups of previous day… Important TO BE FINISHED work from the day before. And speculations of how the work would be today. Ofcourse, in between these thoughts… I do tend to argue with some, fight with some, help some. That’s my train life which will require another whole new blog. Anyways… finally the train reaches the last stop. To me the trains always seem to reach the destination a bit late. After reaching the final station the rush continues… to catch the bus and finally reach the office by 10:15 to 10:30 am. The punctuality is quite bad. Not because my office starts at 10:00 am… But because my boss reaches office by 10:00 am. But then there are ways to just sneak in smartly. (The way is nothing but just praying that boss does not come out of his cabin when I enter the office)

Clock time: 10:20 am
Location: On my desk (Not literally)
Ok. Fresh. Ready to work. Hey... I just got hungry… Ordered a bread-butter from canteen…had it… BURP… Now ready to work. Hey… do you think my personal mails would get checked all by themselves… NO. So I check them… (Also add a bit of orkuting, facebooking, etc)… Now ready to work. But then the discussion about the latest movie/ happening/ events/ office news (whichever applicable or even all) with the people next cubicle ... blah, blah, blah… Now ready to work. Oh… wishing good morning to every Tom Dick Harry in office… OK... Now ready to work. (Stop thinking that when do I actually start my work…I do)
I just wanted to highlight that a salesman also feels like doing the normal TP (time pass) in office. He is just not the workaholic machine that many would want him to see as. But now seriously lets start work. Cause if by any chance my boss reads this… he would doubt the credibility of my work. .

Clock time: 10:47 am
Location: Same office desk (but this time with some work load)
The work starts with picking up the receiver of my desk phone. Every salesman will have the habit of answering the phone with “Yes Sir”. And he does that with six sigma accuracy. That’s just gets into the system you see. Coz a salesman always considers the person holding the phone receiver on the other side of the line as a potential client. And CLIENT IS GOD. That’s his income source. But here’s the catch. In adding the respectful prefix “SIR/ MADAM” he ends up compromising his own intellect. I will tell you how….
Every person when addressed as SIR/MADAM by a salesman just sky rockets his/her self image to very high level (And this is of course irrespective of where he/she actually stands) The next psychological reaction is to create an imaginary intellect level of self and presuming the intellect level of the salesman calling you much below that imaginary level. Hmmmm….. Do I see anyone denying that??? Hmmm … OK. So how many times have you wondered about the educational qualification of any salesman who calls you??? Or don’t you find yourself easily considering a salesman dumb on their simplest mistake. How many times has the thought ever zoomed past your consciously unconscious mind that a salesman calling you could be a genius?? Everyone considers him just another guy who couldn’t succeed in education or career. Anyways…I don’t wanna stretch it too far.
So… every single call I make…. Have to address the people as SIR/MADAM… Whoever the person may be… however dumb he/she may be… whatever the nature may be… Whatever…

Clock time: 11:30 am
Location: Desk… Still over the phone
Did you think that I would just make few silly calls…. Some friendly chats and that’s it. Hellooooo… Wake up… welcome to the real world. I may have to make up to 30 calls to get just a single appointment. Coz that’s the routine after lunch. Meetings. If my boss would have his way, I would have been always outside office doing meetings. Whether with appointments or without them. But my boss is not that bad. Lucky me. Also my phone keeps ringing at regular intervals (It seems that it has been kept on forever snooze). Answering queries, sending mails… (Loads of them) ofcourse with the prefix SIR/MADAM. Hearing the word “BUSY” from people who actually don’t seem to be that busy. People think that just by saying that they are busy, they can avoid a salesman. BUT THEY CAN NOT. A salesman will keep calling you (follow up) till he gets a satisfactory yes or no from you about the purchase of whatever he is selling. Believe me… he would be happier than you to avoid calling you. But his boss is always on his back. We are just like soldiers of a small country against a big country, already knowing that we are gonna die (get humiliated by words like “stop calling me”, “don’t you have work”, “I am busy right now”, “why are you disturbing me”, “I don’t want it, don’t you understand”, “Don’t call again and again” . But we still have to get into the battle field (call the client) on orders of our captain (boss). And it goes on…

Clock time: 12:05 pm
Location: somewhere on the streets.
The real job. Outside the comfort zone of my office AC (which is enjoyed only by receptionist, clerks and jerks). You may most probably find me crossing roads, being crushed in a train, getting pushed in a bus, running after a cab, waiting at the receptions of offices except mine, shouting into my mobile, talking to strangers (coz I meet strangers only). You may rarely find me asking for addresses (coz I have etched a map of Mumbai in my mind by roaming all over the place), having my lunch at leisure, looking chilled out, having some snacks outside (coz I don’t have time for that). And you will never find me enjoying my travel (coz it’s a routine), exploring places for fun (it’s all been explored already) or with out my office bag.
All the people you encounter on the streets with a tie in neck and bag on shoulder… with a hurried pace… blabbering into their mobiles…. You know what I am talking about. An average salesman. Poor chap.

Clock time: 1:15 pm
Location: Who cares???
Its lunch time. Time to do what you earn for. EAT. But I can never predict where I will be having my lunch the next day. It may be some high end restaurant (because of lack of average restaurant nearby) or some road side food joint (same reason). But luckily in a city like Mumbai, we get easy on pocket restaurant at every 30 meters. But there have been days when I have had my food in open food courts and a bird dropping its waste on my shoulder while I was eating my lunch with a semi washed spoon, and in a hardly washed plate. But no complains. Coz that was an experience. And I believe that a attitude is defined by getting different experiences in life. OK. Let’s not get into a psychological topic here. So… the bottom line is…. Location of LUNCH is always a big mystery. But the flip side is I also end up discovering very good eating joints and mostly very economical ones (that’s the need)

Clock time: 3:05 pm
Location: ???!!!
The afternoon location is the diciest. I could be at a plush office reception chatting with a nice beautiful receptionist. Or I could be in a meeting with a client being bombarded with questions. Or I could be on the streets heading towards my destination. And that would have to be in scorching afternoon sun or rains (during monsoon). Both are no fun at all. I feel lucky sometimes that in Mumbai we don’t have snowfall. Or I could be at a bus stop waiting impatiently for the next bus. The places that I have been in my career of two years in marketing are so diverse that it has enriched my experience to great heights. I have been to plush offices which are no less than 5 star hotels. Or say small lanes of Mumbai where a client operates his whole business within the perimeters of his 10 x 10 feet office room. I have been lucky enough to explore places which are so crowded that people cant walk without getting pushed… and places so beautiful… which as a non sales guy I couldn’t have seen. That’s all in a days work. But all this is no big deal.

The biggest deal of being a sales man is meeting different people. All kinds of people. Rude, bad, happy go lucky, sadist, generous, philanthropic, sentimental, egoistic etc. You name the character type and I have seen it. And meeting different characters is what ultimately helps me in deciding to shape up my own character.

Clock time: 5:05 pm
Location: Towards office (Back to the base)
Many a times I have seen this scene when I am heading towards my office and all the people are heading in opposite direction (towards home). It sucks. Not because I am tired and don’t want to work anymore. But more because the sight of people flocking like birds towards their nests also tempts me. But still back to office. While I was out… who did my office work??? No one (coz I am not the privileged few to have a assistant). So finishing that work…. Putting something for next day… Saying bye to every Tom Dick Harry (If anyone is still there) and stroll towards home.

Now what happens after office is my personal life. I am not the salesman anymore. Friends, family, lifestyle, reading, games, late night movies (the reason I don’t get up early). All this makes me the person who I am. Which do reflect on me during the office hours (as a salesman). But mostly ignored by many. For them I am just another guy selling something.

Now whatever I do is not some astronomical physics. It’s something basic done by every other salesman. But that’s what it’s all about. Salesman is not just about a salaried guy trying to sell you something. He is much beyond that with a heart, mind, logical reasoning and lateral thinking of his own. He would probably never ask you to treat him with respect. But inside… he would feel more that just simple nice if you do that. He also knows to build trust. He also knows to keep promises and has business ethics. He also has a work pressure which he balances along with his ego, respect, etc. Great act of juggling out there I must say.

So next time you get a call from a salesman… do try to hear things out and say a polite NO if you don’t want to buy. Wont do you much harm at all. But will do only good.