Blog Likhega Trainee

PAR Q!

2011-02-06T11:31:00.000-08:00

I have long wanted to write this post.

I travel a lot. And since my departure point is mostly Kolkata airport – that means being in a LOT of LONG Queues. And queues in India, made up of Indians, are so unique that they deserve to be written about – so here goes..

I usually take early morning flights out of Kolkata Airport - a time when the airport is overflowing with traffic. Since I never plan enough to take a printout of my ticket along, I start that day in the airline counter queue. I don’t get it, but the airlines don’t have the basic common sense to separate the lines for those who just want ticket printouts and those who want to book tickets. So there I am standing behind this Bihari uncle, who will ask about each and every flight option from Kolkata to Mumbai, the prices, the food they serve onboard, the waitresses dress length etc, then he will call his wife, consult with his munshi, look around, meditate, eat, drink, sleep and then decide that he will go the next day. After 15 mins I get to say – printout pls!

Next, being the only airport left in the country that doesn’t have an inline baggage check system – as soon as I enter, I get into the Baggage X-Ray queue. This queue has no dividers, so anyone can enter the queue from anywhere. This is where I typically encounter the quintessential suede mid-aged uncle who will non-chalalntly come speaking over the phone, sounding all important, and enter the line where he finds it convenient. Since we are inherently polite people, the phone trick plays a double whammy as no one wants to disturb him and hence they just ‘adjust’.

Ok – now past the X-Ray queue, I enter the Boarding pass queue. This is normally the most civilized queue and the only masala here is provided by the occasional harried passenger who is trying to convince the sweet lady behind the counter that 7:50 for a 8:30 flight = 45 minutes left. I’ve never seen them succeed, but they try nonetheless.

Next comes the DREADED security check queue. Whenever I stand in this queue, I am reminded of this great need, this urge that we Indians have – of coming FIRST!. And it is manifested in so many ways, in this one queue. The first sign is when you see this old aunty who will come and stand beside you in the queue and start walking parallel to you. She will refuse to acknowledge your presence, or the fact that she is out of queue…because she knows that just around the next corner, she will blend into the line with a quiet confidence and grace that can be earned only through rigorous lifelong practice of this subtle art. What is worse, is that sometimes people will get inspired by this aunty and form a whole new line behind her. The age old warfare lesson applied at airport queues – undermine the strength and credibility of your enemy to defeat it – basically, if I form a parallel queue that is longer than yours – then who is to say which was the original queue?…HA! But the most unbelievable form of this urge to come first, is exhibited by the pot bellied uncle who stands behind me – his pot belly constantly bumping into the small of by back. If it is a kid standing behind you, he will keep bumping his trolley into your ankle. I don’t understand what is the gameplan here – will you go through me to get ahead of me? Do you feel insecure if air passes between our bodies? I really really wish for the gift of passing silent lethal gas at these times…
Navigating through the enemies tactical moves – I get to the security check point. And this is when it strikes me…I have a LAPTOP! You might say so what…but if you have ever been in any of these lines, you will know that as soon as you take off your bag to take out your lappy, some uncle will quickly move in front of you, citing your delay in taking out the laptop as an implicit reason. Its even worse when you have to get out of the long queue that you just passed, to go and keep your bag on the conveyor belt – which is when chaos rules and your spot is most likely taken over!

Once in the security hold, you hope that the ordeal is over – after all – there is nothing to win now…everyone will get into the plane now. BUT NO! For some godforsaken reason, we Indians have to queue up for boarding too – and that too looong queues. Someone PLS tell me WHY! Why do you stand in a km long queue…waiting to get into the bus that will take you to the airport. Why cant you just sit down, wait for the queue to finish and then get up and enter! I just don’t get it!

Once in the bus, you feel…ahh…must be over now…BUT NO! The airlines will pack you into the bus like sardines…they will not signal to close the doors until there isn’t space to move. Im no sissy who cant take a crowded bus, but this means that there is another queue before walking up the ramp into the craft! Once inside there is a queue to get to your seat because everyone must first stand in the way, put in their bags, adjust their trousers, take out their cellphone which will get stuck in their pants once they sit, scratch their butts, loosen their belts – before they finally sit and let you pass.

Finally, Im in the flight…but I know this is just the lull before the storm. I can see that when the plane lands an hour later…there will be the most horrible queue of them all. The queue where everyone will rush to get their bags and stand in anticipation, bending under the over head cabins, standing at strange inclines to not rub against their fellow passenger yet not give up their place, with their luggage in one hand and mithais in another – and all this to watch a locked door which I am sure isn’t impressed and will take its own sweet time to open. You get down and a queue at the baggage collection belt awaits you…then there is a prepaid ticket queue…then there is a prepaid taxi waiting queue…then you go to the movies and even though you have online tickets…there is a queue…and all you end up wondering is…

PAR Q!

Travelogue #1 - Shillong

2010-09-20T10:31:00.000-07:00

Rock Capital of India, The Abode of Clouds (which by the way is what the word means), The better half of Assam….I must admit, I was pretty excited about beginning my 2 day solitary sojourn to Shillong (alliteration baby :)). I was up at 5, down (at the reception of my Guwahati Hotel) at 6, and on my way to the land of the Beautiful People (you wonder whether this is what Manson had in mind when he wrote the song)

Half an hour out of Guwahati, and I’m suddenly surrounded by hills and trees and clouds! Another 5 minutes, and we hit the most peculiar road I’ve ever seen in my life. I mean, it was a normal road, but apparently on one side of it, all the houses and shops and everything else – was Meghalaya…and on the other side was Assam! My driver Mahesh informed me of this, and went on to point out that the people on the right hand side were Khasi People (named after Khasi hills, which is one of the three main hills in Shillong, others being Gharo and Jaintia) while the other side were Assamese. It’s funny that he began his sentence with – ‘as you can see..’ – Well…Ummm….Noo...No offence but I really can’t see the difference! What I could see, was that for a 1.5km stretch – no one attempted to cross over!

Anyways, we moved along. It’s an extremely scenic 3 hour drive from Guwahati to Shillong. But every now and then, there is a string of trucks emitting toxic black smoke that swoosh past you and obstruct the fresh air intake that one so rarely finds in the cities these days ( btw, just checking, is it just me, or have some of you also felt that in the mountains the air is sometimes so fresh and cool that it actually hurts to breathe!). On enquiring I discovered that coal mining is a major industry in these hills, and the trucks always overload coal far beyond capacity. The engine of the trucks can’t take that weight and it coughs up all that smoke in an attempt to do so. While telling me this, Mahesh nonchalantly adds – ‘Sahab ye truck walle chalate bhi toh bahut tez hain – aap dekhiyega kitne accident dikhenge aapko raaste main’. And voila, we suddenly cross a truck that bumped in the mountain…its as if the driver didn’t see the turn at all! All along our way, I counted 5 accidents. But it wasn’t the accidents or the number that was scary…it was the fact that Mahesh so confidently, yet indifferently, predicted this would happen! It was also peculiar that most of these accidents happened on the ride back from Shillong. It guess I found it peculiar because till that time I didn’t know that liquor in Meghalaya is tax free!

Soon we had breakfast at Nongpoh…which has 3 dhabas and around 10 homes…and which is where everyone headed to Shillong has breakfast (it is also the place where you should not order aloo parantha…take my word). Post the breakfast, Mahesh handed me a paan, and I Shashank Mehta, who never had a Supari Paan in his life, took it like an obedient kid and stuffed it in his mouth! Two things happened – 1. I suddenly noticed that everyone around me – guys, girls, kids, elders – everyone was chewing a paan. I kept noticing this throughout the day. 2. I had this uncontrollable urge to spit…and then I did it…face out of the car window, wind in my face, hair swept back, lips curled like a tunnel – I SPAT! My first spit marks, on the road to Shillong, on my car window, on my shirt…ahh what bliss.

An hour hence, we hit Shillong and as decided, I headed off to finish the sight-seeing straight away…you know…the waterfalls, the parks, the lakes etc. I had made up my mind that I would finish all the ‘touristy’ stuff before I hit my Hotel. And so I did. I won’t bore you with the details

The Hotel – Hotel JK International, is situated in the busiest part of town – Police Bazaar = Bada Bazaar. I was already alarmed when I entered the corridor of the Hotel, because all along my right were doors after adjacent doors announcing sequentially increasing room numbers. It logically meant that the room would only be slightly broader than the door itself…but it doesn’t hit you until the door opens. Lo and Behold – a 10ft by 4 ft extended corridor, perpendicular to the original one, separated from it by means of a door and stuffed with a bed and a TV! I’ve always liked small cozy rooms, but JK International helped me define a very important line - the one between ‘cozy’ and ‘so freaking claustrophobic and small that when you yawn neighbors on both sides shout out coz they can hear the noise of your bones hitting the walls’. Later in the night I would find out that even the ceiling was as ‘hear-through’ as the walls – and that I would be blessed with an ‘upper neighbor’ who had this constant urge to drop some loud metal ornament on the floor every 15mins.

After a quick nap I’m out on the street - its 3 o clock and the streets are bustling with people…extremely well groomed people I may add. As far as dressing up is concerned, Shillong is every bit what you’ve heard it to be. Goth teenagers with tattooed forearms, weird yet ‘cool’ hairstyles, rock band t-shirts, metal accecories, worn out and torn jeans worn low, all the shades of black with a little pink thrown in – they got the works! Since I’m a delhiite, also worth mentioning is the fact that there are a LOT of girls. While they can’t be more than enough, there are by far more girls (atleast out on the roads) than there are guys. Ohh and check this out,Shillong is perhaps the only Matrilineal society in India – that basically means that WOMEN RULE HERE! After marriage, the guy shifts base and stays with his in-laws. In a will, all inheritance goes to the YOUNGEST DAUGHTER, not the oldest son. And while not literally, but for all practical purposes, the woman wears the pants in the house and can kick out her guy whenever she wishes for whatever reason!

Imagine, a headbanging matrilineal society – how cool is that. Your wife could throw you out if she catches you listening to Britney Spears! If you just want to check Britney out, take my advice and put the TV on mute…your wife may even join you and then go out and get herself the exact same dress! No seriously, what is it with North-Eastern/ Hill women and dressing up! Well actually, I think I understand the reason for this (as I’ll explain in the Darjeeling Travelogue coming up soon), but it amazes me no end anyways. They are just always decked up and HOW!

I’ve been on the road for 3 hours now, I’ve searched every nook and cranny, but I still can’t find a gig in this Rock Haven! My amazing luck…everywhere I go I’m old that there’ll be a gig next Saturday (but today we smelt you when you were half way here and cancelled arrangements…huh) But seriously, this was quite a turn-off..not to mention the fact that the city shuts down by 7.30. The streets are deserted by 9pm max. So I head to the poshest pub in town, at 6.30 in the evening, and commit another first – I have a drink all by myself!

It is almost 1am as I’m writing this…thinking back to Darjeeling and now Shillong…I’ve realized that while I will love to explore this unexplored part of our country, a critical factor will be missing – FOOD. A major part of exploring the culture of any place, for me, involves exploring their food. But I guess the North-East is the only part of our country where food comes after clothes, cosmetics and other comforts. This de-prioritization of food is reflected in lot of ways – in the lack of spices and garnishing, in the short hotel menus, in the ‘we’ll just be content eating anything made of Bamboo’ attitude, and most of all in the fact the garment stores are always larger than the restaurants.

AITRAAZ: A Poem

2010-08-24T13:01:00.000-07:00

‘I’m not that sorta girl…how dare you!’, she said
‘But I don’t wanna marry you…just wanna take you to bed!’
‘Ohh don’t you fool me Mr, coz I saw it in your eye…
…In the tremble of your hands when you didn’t unzip your fly’
‘But this is all wrong…I am the guy…marriage is not even on my mind!’
‘Ohh well then why don’t you ever…you know…move in from behind’
‘I’m just trying to be decent …since when is that wrong!’
‘Well lets just say from the time you got me this tiny thong’
‘Ohh come on you can’t be serious…can’t blame me for going slow!’
‘God Im jumping for joy here and you take time to grow!’
‘But how does all this mean that I’m eager to get married?’
‘Coz whenever I say the ‘S’ word, you look all pale and harried’
‘Alright…lets get this straight…I want exactly what you do’
‘Yea right...that’s why when I say prick, you think I’m talking voodoo’
‘Haha…you know what baby…that one was actually funny’
‘Yes…funny is what I wanted to be…when I dressed up like a bunny…’
‘Ok I’ve had enough…do you have anything more to say?’
‘See…you’ve had enough already…without even having me today!’
‘YES…you win…I agree…All I want is a good wife’
‘Ok darling…we’ll have salami for dinner today…
…you go get your dead meat and I’ll go get the knife’
‘I really thought you’d be different…that you would be like no other’
‘But don’t you see…..I am different…
I want to get pregnant…just don’t want to be a mother…’

Epilogue: (Melancholy)

….you really thought I was that kind of girl
…who would marry you without sleeping with you
….who wouldn’t screw you out of your brains
...before laughing with you and weeping with you

Click Happy - Upload #2

2010-08-24T11:20:00.000-07:00

A beautiful statue in the park near my house....so artistically...yet so simply captures how the fate of nature and mankind is intertwined

That's our dear friend Vaibhav's lap...and the slew of dead bodies he leaves in his wake every time he eats/ drinks :)

ALLY CHOCLATE!! More like fake foe choclate.

This is a poster from one of my Big Bazaars...a few comments/ queries from a amateur thief:

1) I would like to thank you for clarifying the it'll be the nearest possible police station - i really hate travel

2) Is the capital C in caught, there just to add dramatic effect, or does it mean that only thefts over a certain value shall be punished?

3) Given the fact that you've put up this poster near the loo, and around this area there really aint much to steal, can I get away by claiming in court that just like your other signages, even this one fails to reach its intended recepient!!

Click Happy - Upload #1

2010-08-24T10:26:00.000-07:00

Thats a poster announcing the next change - outside a shady mall in Beawar (Rajasthan)

Thou has spoken - Name WILL be WRITE on key chain and rice (you know,since they are quite similar)

That actually happens in the New Market area of kolkata - you park your car and they set up shop ON IT!

Poster outside Feroz Shah Kotla stadium in Delhi. LR question - Does this mean:

a. No ticket is available or

b. Some tickets are available but others aren't

Ans - Option b!

Survived, Revived

2010-08-21T07:21:00.000-07:00

I remember the last time (which was also the first time) that I came to Patna. Actually, that time I was technically just supposed to cross Patna on my way to Siliguri from Lucknow, but a strange course of events transformed it into an hour long unscheduled stop at Patna. I won’t get into the details of that time (as I’ve been running out of stories lately and that story, with a little bit of exaggeration, will be enough to fill up 3/4th of a blog post…the remaining 1/4th can be borrowed from any Hindi Movie), but suffice to say that it had something to do with an Asamese guy, flirting with some UP girls, which appntly really bugged some Biahri guys, who took 5 mins to decide whether to a) live with it, b) bitch about it, c) hit the guy in a moving train d) pull the chain, stop the train, tear open his brain an leave him in pain. Finally, they decided to do the easiest thing, so they called up some guys as the train was crossing their village and voila, a barricade came up and the train was stopped. Then the Asamese guy was hit by a lot of Bihari dudes, while a Rajasthani Jawan made an unsuccessful attempt to intervene and got a bleeding nose in the process – and all this while, a lot of erudite Bengali people did what they do best – sat at the side, yawned and talked about how the political and religious degradation of society and youth in particular had resulted in such numbness towards a fellow citizens pain that today no one was willing to get up and help the poor chinki.

Anyways, as I said…I will not get into the details of that day….

This is the story of the first time I actually, intentionally visited Patna. Extremely happy that I didn’t have to travel by train, as my company was willing to foot my airplane bill, I boarded the Kingfisher ATR (yes, the one with those huge Usha fans at the sides) with a spark in my stride. Now, no matter how many times I’ve flown in an aircraft, I am always astonished by take-offs – I just cant fathom how even this time all of us pot bellied Indians will actually be air-lifted…I really always feel that this time for sure it isn’t happening, that probability must be catching up. Needless to mention, in an ATR, with those stupid fans by the side, this fear further intensifies. Seriously, every ATR flight seems like Another Tiny Risk that I’m taking with life. But anyways, today is a good day and I’m alive and kicking, so things can’t be that bad.

---------------

Perfecto…I land safely in Patna ( I later realized that even Collins Book of Grammar recognizes that using ‘safely’ and ‘Patna’ in the same sentence is grammatically incorrect). I am traveling to the market with my distributor, who tells me that this amazing road that we are on has come up only recently, under the Nitish Kumar govt. He also tells me that the crime rate in Patna has gone down drastically, and in the same breath he narrates an incident of how a salesman in one of our business recently was shot and his day’s collections were stolen. I don’t know how to react, but I’m told it’s Patna, these things happen. The city is really not worthy of being called one – it doesn’t have a single multiplex, a single CCD or Barista, no chain restaurant – not even a McDonalds!! All it has is one, yes ONE Yo China! – and that is the most happening place in town.

The day ends, and I’m still alive, no untoward incident, not even a gunshot heard in the distance – Patna really must be changing I think, as I pack my bag to catch my flight back to Kolkata….

….My Kingfisher is a little delayed. No problems, there are always a few mails to send…

…..I’m in the flight, when a slightly balding gentleman with a moustache comes and sits beside me. He introduces himself as (ok – this is so bad, I’ve forgotten his name, but it began with S…so Mr. S) Mr. S, and guess what, he is too from HUL. FAB, this just keeps getting better – the man handles our 3P factories in the East. We’ve never met, and I know zilch about his job…awesome, so much to talk about and learn on the flight. Not to mention, the man is so lively and so funny….this will be fun…

…..The flight has been in the air for 30 mins now (that is one half of our total journey), we are done with food, and I already love Mr. S. We’ve been having such an interesting chat about factories and sales and…woooo…what the fuck was tha…whoohooo…holy mother of gawd…this is bad turbule…wooohhhoooo…fuck fuck fu….

‘Dear passengers…this is your captain speaking…as we are experiencing turbulent weather, I request you to kindly move back to your seats and buckle up’

OK. This is not good. I’ve been in turbulent weather, but this is way beyond just ‘turbulence’. By the way, up until now, very unlike my normal self, I had not checked out the people sitting around me in the flight and formed a mental guess of where they came from and what they did. But this sudden rocking of my boat left me with a compelling urge to do that. So I started looking around and here is what I saw:

1) On the 2 seats in front of us were an old couple – couldn’t really see them so no comments. Just that they seemed to be the educated, calm n composed types.
2) On our right hand side, across the aisle, was seated a Bihari uncle with a huge moustache and a black leather bag in his hand. Definitely a Bihar Govt official who had the ‘I am the guy who sits on files in govt offices and lets the grass grow under my arse’ look.
3) Behind me (yes, I am one of those annoying passengers who turns behind and checks you out through the gap between the seats), was a Chineese/Japanese dude (hereby referred to as CJD) who, like all Chinese/Japanese dudes (next time for sure), seemed perturbed and in a real hurry to go somewhere. I’m sure that had it not been for the seat belt he wouldn’t have been sitting.

Also, important to mention that we two were on the 2nd seat from the front, and hence the tall air-hostess was in eye range and ear shot. She was sitting on a seat facing us, with her back to the cockpit door. ( I’m not a pervert, this is not irrelevant information, I’m telling you this for a reason) (Btw, I can’t even imagine how embarrassing and uncomfortable it must be for an ATR airhostess, to sit in clear viewing distance of a pitch black, pot bellied, gold titan watch wearing Bihari uncle with a big moustache and Ray Ban glasses on to prevent her from seeing where he is looking. The poor lady has to look interestedly at the baggage cabin above, as if it was the most exquisite mural, while all she wishes is that the cabin somehow opens up and a heavy suitcase, or a boulder, drops on uncle’s head.)

Anyways, coming back…we are caught in a freaking thunderstorm! Our plane is wobbling like mad…and the CJD behind me goes ‘Ohh ma gawwd..ohh maa gaawwwd’ every time we tumble. (‘I really don’t want to be annoyed when I die’, I remember thinking.) But what was interesting for me, was to note the shift in behaviors as the turbulence continued and worsened.

Episode 1 – Duration: 1st 30secs of turbulence: Do as you are trained – these are the initial few jitters, time for the tray tables to get closed, laptops to go in, poopers to return to base, air hostesses to maneuver protruding elbows and return to their seats, pilots to shut off auto-pilot and earn their pay, kids to stop crying coz they are shocked…you know…the usual drill

Episode 2 – Duration: The next 2 minutes: Act all calm and composed: When the turbulence continues for over a minute, the ‘You don’t scare me’ looks come out. Just take a look around and you can see those stone cold faces, pretending not to be hassled by this ‘turbulence thing’. ‘Ohh we fly everyday, this is normal, don’t worry about it, trust ME, I know’

Episode 3 – Duration: Well, let’s just say that by this time you are not seeing your watch to see how much time has passed, but how much time you got left!

Episode 3, is when the proverbial Shit hits the real roof.

The kids who had stopped crying in Episode 1 due to shock, realize that ‘Dude, this is serious shit…mommy isn’t voluntarily rocking us to sleep’, and start wailing with such renewed enthusiasm that for a moment the thought of a crash brings a smile to your face.
In the aisle, all the elbows come out again, but for once, there is no Air Hostess in sight. This time everyone is grabbing on to the side bars of their seats for dear life. The Air-Hostesses, btw, are by now seated at their extremely embarrassing crowd facing seats. Cross-legged (horny uncle’s hormones will fight to the grave I guess), trying to maintain composure, they are the last proponents of the ‘this is normal turbulence’ theory. Because the ones who were saying so in Episode 2, are by now chanting silent prayers under their clenched teeth. These are the ones I feel most pity for, because in the event of a crash, they would die pretending.

But why Episode 3 is the most revealing episode, is because in most cases, real human nature comes out in full glory in this time of helplessness. All your defences, all your facades, they melt away and you, in your pure, pristine form, shine through. So while, Mr. S (who had gone silent a few minutes back) started laughing now, let go of the side bars, and said – ‘That’s why I love Levers…it has taught me, that when you can’t stop it…enjoy it!’….Mr. CJD sitting behind me, after 10 minutes of ‘ohh maa gawd ohh maaa gawwddd’, asks his first question to the petrified but calm airhostess –
‘When will we land…we are already 45 minutes late?’

You can not imagine the effect this one question had on the people who could hear it. The airhostess gave him a look that said – ‘if we do land…SUE US’. The Bihari uncle looking at her legs was relived that her attention was diverted. Mr. S couldn’t stop laughing…and I…I really wanted to turn around and tell Mr. Chow from the land of JIT – It’s ok, we might land late…but we will die right on time!

Anyways, we did land safely…all credit to the pilot for that. But it was only once we landed that we realized the true severity of what we had been through. I asked the Air-Hostess whether this truly was normal turbulence on this route and she said – ‘hell no, I’ve never been in anything like it’. Once we got out of the plane, a whole crew of Kingfisher executives was there to receive us, and we were told that as soon as we took off from Patna, a thunderstorm warning was issued in Kolkata and all flights were grounded. Ours was the only flight coming in and they were really worried. We had taken more than 2 hours for a 1 hour flight, because every time we tried to descend we would get caught in a draft and lose balance. But I guess the experience was best summarized by the dear Bihari Uncle, who took off his Ray Bans as soon as we landed, wiped the sweat of his forehead, and with a smile on his face said – ‘ IT BHAS A BHERY HORRIPHYING EXPERIENCE’

:)

PS: Actually there was an Episode 4 also – this was the time when I think everyone was saying – ‘Just get me thought this one, and then I will….’
It was during this time when I thought that I’ll do everything I’ve been postponing, and renewing the blog was on top of that list. But as soon as you are through the trauma, you instantly forget about your resolve, and it again becomes another thing that you ‘must do’. Needless to mention, 2 months have passed between then and now.

PS2: I’ve been ill for the past few days, for a moment dengue/ malaria was suspected, and this is when the resolve came back with vigor. This time, I’m glad I acted :)

Mrs.X and the Pink Floyd Hotel - Part I

2009-12-16T10:13:00.000-08:00

Today

I have woken up all dazed today. She is gone. Three precious little days, and she is gone. I look around, a slight buzz buzzing in my head. It doesn’t seem right – the room without her. Something’s amiss. It was this way three days ago, it’s the same three days later, but something’s changed.

It’s the smell.’ Her smell is still lingering in the room’ - I tell myself. My Self replies back – ‘or maybe she is still there…inside you…maybe she never left”. I realise I am not making any sense. I shut my Self up. Still dizzy, I try and think back to the past 3 days…think back to try and figure out what is it that might have changed between then and now. But my memories are glazed. They are not the discrete snapshots they used to be. Instead, they are like water flowing down over vertical glass. They are in constant flux. They are like quicksand…the harder I try…the deeper I sink into this hazy, surreal feeling. It’s like I am looking at my own mind through a window…and the closer I look…the more my own breath fogs the glass.

3 days ago - 8.00am

I have woken up smiling. Waking up to her is like waking up to…actually anything else isn’t waking up at all. But she isn’t there by my side. I look around worried…like a kid who slept with his trophy last night and couldn’t find it when he woke up. But it doesn’t take long for me to spot her…how could it. Drying her hair by the dressing table, she is the perfect vision of the perfect vision. And then there is her smell...that mesmerising fragrance…that debilitating perfume. She reminds me of Eskimos…how they use refrigerators to keep their food warm. I see her spray herself with some perfume…and I know that she uses it in the same way… to cover up that sweet intoxication that emanates from every cell in her body. Our eyes meet…she smiles…and I nod in agreement…such potency must be kept in check…at bay.

11:00 am

I’m riding a bike and she is sitting behind me…clutching me tightly…as if holding on for dear life. I open the throttle a little more and the bike surges ahead. She clutches harder. I feel invincible…What can hurt me…when life is clinging on to me for dear life.

My thoughts are glazed. She is saying something to me…trying to shout over the winds gushing past. But I just have music in my ears. Music in my ears and warmth over my back. She is trying really hard to ask me something…”How long does it take to Pushkar?” she asks.

I remember wondering about how cruel it is to remind someone in heaven that a concept of finite time exists.

I answer … “about 45 minutes”.

“We must grab something to snack upon on the way…some biscuits perhaps.” she says in reply.
We are almost at the edge of Ajmer. By now I pretty much know every shop worth knowing in this town. I smile and nod a confident nod. A minute later I am parking. We enter this store and it suddenly hits me…I have lost the ability to shop like I used to…like everyone else does. Everything around me is reduced to being a formulation, a concoction of chemicals packed in one of the many choices of packaging material, planted at eye level by a salesman on the payrolls of the distributor who has paid for this and now expects me to buy it and pay him back. I can no longer just pick something because I like the look of it…because I know someone made it this way precisely because they knew I would like the look of it. I see the scheme. I know the schemer. I know that I am getting this razor for a third of its price now, because the schemer wishes to milk me when I buy blades. I know this Rs 6. Product is being offered to me at 5 because a 6 rupee coin doesn’t exist. I know that this shampoo that promises to make me a superstar is nothing but a glorified detergent and a lot of water. I know…and I can’t not know now.

But this isn’t about me. I chose for things to be this way. It’s about her…and she is done doing what I can’t.

11:30am

The road winds…tracing the valley…cutting across two mountains. I remember feeling poor…at a loss of words to describe the view. She is quiet too. There is music in my ears.

My thoughts are glazed…but I vividly recall what I saw next. On our way we have gone past hundreds of billboards, but this one is different. With the dark green color…that background made to look like bricks…a psychedelic white font specifying the name…The Pink Floyd Hotel has a sign board that one can’t afford to miss. Bang in the middle of nowhere, flanked by billboards inviting you to have continental food at Vaishno Inn and delicious sea food at Jagdamba resorts…the billboard might as well have read ‘Randomness Begins’.
She is also looking at it now…she is also as amazed…she is also in agreement…this is one place we must visit. I open the throttle again. She clutches harder, again. I feel alive.

To be continued......

Apologies..Updates...Promises....Suggestions?

2009-10-14T11:08:00.000-07:00

Hi people…true to the title…allow me to begin by apologising for not updating the blog for the past month. (I know that this apology implicitly assumes that some/all of you liked the blog and liked it so much so as to feel bad about the dirth of new posts…but I’ll request you to play along and not break it to me.) In my defence, the last few weeks have been turbulent…with one stint ending (Yup…sales stint is over) and another beginning…there was a lot of stuff happening. Also, post Rajasthan, Mumbai was a cultural shock that I’m still adjusting to.

Not to mention, that post sales…the number of stories to report have gone down considerably. The good news is that I still have some of the sales stuff to report…so the fun shall go on for some time. So I shall be defaulting on my promise that with each stint we shall begin a new book of the BLT series…because I am sure that nothing is gonna match upto book 1.

Moving on to some updates…Well the sales stint ended and I am now in my Customer Marketing stint. (I again assume this matters to you…kindly follow protocol and play along.) It is a 6 week stint in Bombay where I shall try and figure out why we shop the way we shop. Another update – If you had read the post called ‘Kiss of Death’…you might be interested in knowing that the wholesaler I talked of in that post…well he went into Coma…came out…and then few days later died due to some infection that the bullet had left. Randomness – I bow to thee!

As a logical conclusion…I once again promise that henceforth…the blog shall remain updated…that I shall soon write all that is in the pipeline…clear my back log…and begin the second book hopefully before the end of the second stint.
On a parting note – I must confess that post Sales…there may not be many interesting incidents/experiences to report…as I shall have a proper office job. So in rare case that you actually did like what this Blog was all about…do feel free to put in your suggestions about what path should it proceed on henceforth. Should I make it a ‘Marketing Funda from Real Life’ sort of a blog…should I continue with experiences but and live with the fact that they shall be lesser…anything you feel…

Baldy's Comb: Experience #2 - The Bus Ride

2009-08-26T14:20:00.000-07:00

Part II - Roberta

‘Could you tell me when the next bus to Pushkar is’

I turned around and saw the female who was sitting all alone all this while. About 5”6’ tall, dark hair, athletic built, proper American accent and a backpack almost her own size – that was Roberta (as I’d learn later).

Me:’Umm…am really not sure…let’s get down and I’ll find out for you’

Roberta:’Ohh you would…ohh that’s soo sweet of you’

And then she did it…she brought together both her hands and started ’Namaste’ing me.

‘Thank you soo much..it’ll be a great favour’

Ohhk woman…stop…stop it right there. I am no backward, illiterate, ultra-religious Indian. Do not ‘Namaste’ me. I have yet not been able to fathom WHY I felt so strongly about what she did. It almost felt as if she was mocking my entire existence - mocking my education, mocking my fluency at speaking her language, mocking the hours I’d spent at Barista sipping Cappuccino, mocking the nights I’d slept listening to Floyd, mocking the ‘wassup’s’ I’ve used to greet my friends, mocking my 234 strong friend list on facebook - just mocking everything. In that one moment I wanted to shout out and tell her so many things – I wanted her to know that I hang out at pubs on Saturday nights and in café’s on others, that just like her I am not one to make ethical and religious issues out of short skirts, kissing in public and one night stands, that I have a hep friend circle that dopes, smokes pot and sleeps with multiple partners, that even I shop at malls and screw up my credit card limits, that I also watch friends, that even I use ‘fuck’, ‘whatever, and the middle finger when am at a loss of words (I was at a loss of words when this entire scene did happen…it was only later that I reflected on what made me mad…but at that time…I was just mad!!), that I write a freaking blog!– I don’t know why I wanted her to know all of this but I’ve narrowed down to two options.

1)It was either out of my sheer anger at her holding such a stereotypical view of all Indians…and daring to ‘Namaste’ me and saying thank you…how could she presume about me without even knowing who I am (that fact that she might have just been told by someone that this is what you do in India is something that didn’t seem like a possibility worth considering until wayyy after)

2) I, just like a lot of Indians, wanted to prove myself to this westerner…this human being who is universally accepted to be ahead of and better than me because she comes from a more prosperous nation

Yup…you got it…it was not an either or…it was a combo of both these reasons.

Anyways, so I told her that it was ok and we stepped off the bus. By now I (and obviously she) was the center of attention. And as expected, as soon as we stepped off the bus -

‘Madam…Madam…pushkar madam…nice AC car…200 only madam…200 only for you madam..’ (these offers were interspersed with subdued cries of ‘kya maal hai’, ‘aaja meri gaadi main baith ja’ and ‘full service madam ji’)

Well this was precisely the reason I had offered to find her a bus to Pushkar. At 11 in the night…trying to find transportation to pushkar…alone…a westerner…NOT a good idea. In that respect, Rajasthan roadways was a much much safer (and cheaper) option

Me:’Nai chahiye bhai…koi gadi nai chahiye’

After repeating the same for 5 minutes, I was able to ward off all evil, but not without sly remarks about how I was trying to act smart with the ‘Angrez’ and screwing their potential earnings in the process (actually it was said with much brevity in Hindi – ‘akele hi lega ya humen bhi kamane dega’).

Apparently the next bus to pushkar was due to arrive in 10 mins. Hmm…so we need to make small talk now….ok

Me:’Hey, the bus is coming in another 10 mins. So I guess you’ve got to bear me a bit longer’

Roberta:’Ohh you don’t need to stay … you already have done soo much for me…I really can’t ask for more…pls don’t le t me keep you’ (btw…from now on assume that whenever she had to thank me…her Namaste pose – with proper head bent down n all han – was a continuous accompaniment)

Me:’No really…its ok … I don’t have much to do…and this isn’t a very safe hour to be at a bus stand. Not to mention that the time estimates given in India rarely hold so you will constantly need to recheck on the time of arrival and where the bus shall be parked’

Roberta (more vigorous Namaste and a pained/ indebted face): ‘ ohh how can I thank you…’

Me (you could start by not thanking me): ‘Well…so…tell me about your trip to India… Where all have you been…how long is the trip’

Roberta: ‘ Well the trip has just started…just spent a week in Rajasthan and Delhi…plan to go east and then south after this. I am here on a 75 day vacation’

WHAT!! Are you even allowed to use ’75 days’ and ‘vacation’ in the same sentence!!

Me:’75 days!! What do you do for a living…how did you manage to get such a long leave’

Roberta: ‘Well I used to work for this publishing house for 3.5 years…then due to the global recession…I got laid off…so I thought I have my savings…I should use them…and here I am!’

Ok..this conversation isn’t making any sense to me…are we from the same planet…is the end near…did she just say she got laid off and she used her savings to go on a 75 day India trip!!!!! I mean, tell me frankly, what would you have done? I would have: Taken the pink slip à gone to my atm and checked my bank balance à gone home and started working on my CV à cut down on petrol, movies and a few meals to ensure my savings last. My head drifted back to Mr. Anthropologist in the bus and how he would’ve evaluated this contrast in reactions…while Roberta continued speaking

‘ I had always heard about India from my father who had been in the Italian Embassy here and I soo wanted to visit…and I knew that in a job I would never get such a long vacation…so I took the chance’

Hold on…did she just say Italy

Me:’ Which country are you from again?’

Roberta:’ Italy’

Me:’ Wow…you have a perfect American accent’

Roberta:’Yea…I’ve lived in New York for 7 years’

Me:’Hmmm..no wonder…umm…am sorry…don’t think I caught your name’

Roberta:’Roberta’

Me: ‘So Roberta – you are on a 75 day trip to India…ALONE! – WOW’

I suddenly looked around us…and there were like 20 people gathered all around…staring us down. Typical Indians…huh

Me:’Hey…if you aren’t already…then get used to this…you will be flocked everywhere you go. I on the other hand…am new to this attention…’

Roberta:’Yea…I’ve noticed this…but why’

Me:’Maybe you are too good looking (yea I know…lame attempt)..maybe us Indian men are too desperate, maybe it’s reverse apartheid and they want you to be the brown man’s burden (I think this bounced over her head – and thank god for that)’

Roberta (having heard only the ‘desperate Indian men’ part):’ Yea…I know…this driver I had in Jaipur…the guy who took me around the city for 2 days…I think was a gigolo’

Ok that’s it…where is the Mars rover hiding...i mean… everytime we start having a decent conversation on similar planes of existence…she shoots off to another dimension and says something absolutely unfathomable…I mean …how on earth do you – ‘THINK someone is a gigolo’ – isn’t it an extremely rare profession which has a very clear and objective way of being identified!!

Me:’How the hell did you ‘think’ he was a gigolo’

Roberta:’Well…all the time he drove me around…every half an hour…he would keep asking me – “will we go back in the evening to your room and have sex” ‘

Houston we a ready for take off…please please call us back to mother earth!

Me:’WHAT!’ (you really expected me to say something intelligent)

Roberta: ‘Yea…n I kept telling him that noo…I am not here for that…I am here to see the country…but he just wouldn’t listen’

I really wanted to ask her…did she never consider LEAVING THE CAB and finding another one…did she never feel UNSAFE in this guy’s company… but apparently she didn’t….infact - turns out that she was trying her hand at understanding the guys psychology while he made his sexual expectations clear to her

Roberta:’I guess he must’ve met other westerners who come here just for that…he must’ve seen then get sloshed and then sleep around..that’s why he kept asking’

Roberta…darling…there are times when you don’t try and figure out why the gun is being pointed at you…you just run

Me:’Ohh gawd…he actually…he said…ohh shit man…how could you…didn’t you’ (I think I was able to beautifully and concisely capture the emotions and feelings I’ve expressed in the paragraph above)

Me:’Ohhk…that is freaky…I would’ve freaked out had I been in your place…btw…freaky reminds me…what brings you to Pushkar…and why can’t you spend the night in Ajmer and travel in the morning. Such urgency to get sloshed han’

Roberta (smiling):’No I don’t drink…I really like to keep fit…even while travelling…I just go to a city and walk…that’s it…no guide no nothing..,just start at 6am and walk’

Wow…just wow….I’d give an arm (I wanted to say an arm and a leg – but you shall soon realise why I couldn’t) to do that…go to a new place…with nothing to go back to…and walk!

Roberta: ’And I’ve given my word to someone in Pushkar and I want to keep it by getting there tonight…’

And another 10 people have started watching the show

Roberta: ‘I don’t understand…why do they keep looking…Indian women are soo beautiful’

Me:’Yea but they aren’t hot (another lame attempt I know…but the truth)’

Roberta:’I dunno…they have such good features…such amazing faces…every other one can be a celebrity back in hollywood’

Well I didn’t expect to get into an intellectual discussion on how beautiful, cute, pretty and hot are all different things…so I just nodded and agreed.

This entire conversation was, btw, interspersed with me checking for the bus and she checking if I wasn’t getting late and ‘Namaste’ing more vigorously with every negative reply from my end. So finally, at this juncture, the bus arrived and we started saying our goodbyes

Me:’I guess this is it…have an amazing journey…n keep safe’

Roberta (worshipping me like a God):’Thank you soooo much…I dunno how I can thank you…I would’ve been lost if not for you…you are my angel…I will PRAY FOR YOU TO RAMA’

Now you’ve done it

Me:’Umm..i don’t really believe in Rama’

Roberta:’Well then Ganesha’

Me:’Lets just say that I do not subscribe to the concept of a God’

Roberta:’Really…not even one’

Me:’Nop’

Roberta:’Well yeah…I understand…when I see a lot of misery and hurt and suffering around me…even I lose faith sometimes…but it is so comforting and so calming to pray in a temple or a church and just be at peace’

Well by then the bus had started to move….so we quickly shook hands…said our final goodbyes…I helped her board…and off she went…

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PS: - Nop…I didn’t ask for her number or email Id…you don’t feel the need to do that stuff when you’re in love

Baldy's Comb: Experience #2 - The Bus Ride

2009-08-09T12:29:00.000-07:00

Part 1 – Of Anthropology and Anthropologists

The scene…its 10 in the night…I am dead tired and waiting at the Kishangarh Bus stand for a bus to Ajmer…my salesmen Miyalaram and Hanuman are standing beside me…

Me:’yaar melaraam (that’s what everyone calls him…regardless of what his actual name is)…ye Kishangarh se Ajmer ki busses ke do alag rate kyun hote hain…koi Rs14 main le jaati hai toh koi Rs17 main?’

Miyalaraam:’who sirji jo Ajmer depot ki local gadi hai…jo sirf Ajmer-Kishangarh chalti hai…who 14 leti hai…but jo Jaipur depot ki gadi hai…who Rs.17 leti hai’

At this point you should know that Kishangarh falls on route from Jaipur to Ajmer…you should also know that I didn’t know it then…so I just nodded my head with my special, erudite – ‘Ahhh…I see I see’ look on my face…and Miyalaraam bought it!! Another potential threat to my vanity avoided…haha!!

So a bus arrives…I wave goodbye to my salesmen…with the usual joke about how I will stay up all night devising ways to increase their targets and make their lives miserable (actually…somehow I didn’t think they’d appreciate the joke…so I normally kept this parting joke to myself)…and I stepped onto the bus…

The scene…I walk up into the bus…and like any normal Indian…immediately notice that at the far end of the bus…3 foreigners are seated!! Now going by my amazing track record…I will surely find a seat much before I reach the end…and this trip shall pass without event!! But the Indian mind isn’t this simple minded…esp. the Indian male’s mind. Within fractions of a second I have run a 1000 P&C’s that will lead to an interesting conversation between me and the 3 white people (ohh…am sure you’ve been wondering…so I’ll answer…2 girls and one guy) and how somehow the guy will only turnout to be a brother…or maybe just an extremely white Indian…who knows…

Well…while I was still lost, thinking about that one possible scenario where the hotter of the 2 girls had noticed the HUL sign on my bag and was now excitedly telling me how she knew all about the BLT program (you know…maybe she had a chat friend in India who was in a B-school and he told her about how awesome HUL and its BLT program were…its completely possible!!)…and how she thought that I must be really smart to have gotten into it…back in the real world…I had walked the entire length of the bus realising that no seat was available!

Ok…it is important now to understand how these 3 ‘firangs’ were seated. One girl and the guy were seated at the last seat…the one that is a long continuous seat extending from end to end. The girl was sitting at the window and the guy right beside her…she was asleep. The other girl was sitting at the window seat right in front of this girl.

Now, as luck would have it…there were just 2 seats vacant…one was beside the girl sitting alone…but she had kept her huge backpack there…and the other was bang in the middle of the last long seat…right next to the guy. With absolutely no bias towards either seat…I asked the hot girl sitting alone if I could sit next to her…

Now, as all those guys who have been in similar situations would agree…when you are about to utter the first few words to a hot angrez, you wanna make sure they come out right…that they are the perfect words…being verbose will just expose your desperateness…be too terse and you might stand embarrassed as she’ll have to ask your pardon…giving you one of those ‘what did u say u Indian guy’ looks which you so dread….be too loud and you’ll get that same look…be too low key and she won’t hear you and everyone else around will smirk…add to all this the fact that everyone else in the vicinity is looking at her…and with you making it obvious that you are gonna talk to her…they are now looking at you too…it just makes it really tough to ask whether the seat next to her is empty…

But hey…its not over yet…once you’ve tuned your vocal chords to the right decibel level…the freakin bitch called ‘options’ confronts you! Would saying ‘Can I sit here’ be the politest way to ask…or would it just seem to her as if you are quizzing her about your ability to sit at the seat! If you ask ‘Is the seat next to you empty’ – she might just say yes and turn around…without removing the backpack…what then! Then again..you can just push in and expect her to understand and remove the backpack…but she might be American for all you know…in which case she wouldn’t understand and you shall be caught in an awkward situation!

Well, to put things into perspective, all these calculations happened in just a split second… and I finally asked…’Is it ok if I sit here?’. Well…she turned and responded saying yes…which culled my biggest fear – ‘what if she didn’t know English at all!!’ But then she began her attempt at removing the huge backpack from the seat and I realised that there were atleast 2 dead bodies in it…and disturbing them in their peaceful slumber was not the kind of thing I’d want on my record…so I politely told her it was ok…and I sat down next to the white guy (told you there was no bias). The girl did try and tell me it was ok…that she will manage…but I guess deep down inside I am a true Indian boy…and so there was only so far I was gonna push my luck at saying the right words to a female foreigner in front of a bus full of prying eyes…so I chose to pass!

So the bus ride began…there was the usual awkward silence around me…where all the Indians sitting within hearing distance of the white people will stay absolutely shut…as if they are all relatives of the national security advisor and anything they utter can be a potential danger to national security…while their ears were completely tuned in to every word that the white people spoke…desperately attempting to gather bits and pieces of their conversation and make a mental map of their lives…how they were related…was she his wife or girlfriend or just friend or sister…were they English or American or from the rest of the white world (those are the only 3 classifications we are capable of making). This continued for 5 mins…until the guy (hereafter referred to as WG)broke the silence and asked –

WG (with a lot of effort to overcome his European accent):’ So you live in Ajmer’

Me:’No actually…I’m just working in Ajmer for a few weeks. So where are you guys from and what are you doing in India’ (there you go Mr. curious little Indian)

WG(heavy accent):’Ohh weee are phrom Belgiuum. We on vacashion in India’

Further probing on my part revealed that he was travelling with the girl next to him and they were not with the girl sitting in front (I know its an obvious conclusion…but she was alone!...and no…I didn’t dare ask how these 2 were related to each other)

WG:’So where do you work…whats your job?’

Me (curbing my instinct to explain about BLT and HUL to him):’I’m into sales…working for Unilever…you may not have heard of it…what about you…what do you do?’

WG:’ Well I’m an anthropologist’

Here we go with the special, erudite ‘ohh I see I see’ look again…twice in less than 15 mins!! Well in my defence…I did have a faint idea that anthropology had something to do with studying humans…but that seemed extremely vague and broad a definition for a specific field. It was only later that I realised that it was actually just that!! Btw, I narrated this incident to 3 more people…and I can bet that atleast 2 of them gave me their own version of the special, erudite ‘ohh I see I see’ look in response…while the 3^rd one just laughed a silly laugh…realised that it was a lame attempt…and asked what it meant.

Anyways, with the knowledge that WG was a researcher …that anthropology was a science that need him to research people…I confidently asked the next question that would cement the authenticity of my special, erudite look.

Me:’So is this an educational, work related trip…or is it a pure vacation’ (haha…nailed it)

WG:’Well…it is vacation…but you really can’t stop mind from looking at it with academic angle. You see people…you try and understand why they do what they do’

That’s all he needed to say…and suddenly…I was aware and conscious of every moving muscle in my body. What are my hands doing…why am I moving my feet…Is this guy making an opinion about Indians with our interaction as his data…am I a guinea pig…a lab rat…why does he have that sly smile on his face…does he know what I am thinkning…

Me:’hmmm…must be interesting…what interests me is why you chose to do research when you have a masters degree…any Indian with that degree would look for a fat paycheck!’

WG:’Well…in Belgium…higher education is very expensive…and unlike India…we don’t have too many jobs….so we go in for research’

WHAT!! Ever heard of PPP…higher education in India aint too cheap either…and whats that about India having lots of jobs…your country has an unemployment rate of 7.5…ours the figure is 10.1. Surely, given our population, the absolute number of jobs would be more…but whatever gave you the idea that per capita we have more opportunity!! I was seriously shocked at his comment!!

Me(extremely tired but still making an attempt to make him understand):’ In india…a guy with masters will look for a job…because in all probability..his folks spent half their live’s earnings…and killed almost all their own desires…to afford his/her education. The only option, thus, is to now earn and bring a larger sum of money, comforts and satisfaction back in his household. It’s not really because we have more jobs… (how could he make it sound so easy for us!!)’

WG(with a look that said ‘I’m no longer interested in your opinion’): Maybe…so what all is there to see in Ajmer’

Well, so much for being an anthropologist…but whatever…as a courteous Indian…I went on to tell him about Ajmer’s attractions. I also gathered that they were on a 5 week long trip, of which 3 days had already been spent in Jaipur…and as usual…I wondered whether I’ll ever take a month off from work and go explore some exotic foreign land. I sometimes try and imagine what feelings a trip to India would have evoked in me…had I been a westerner. There really isn’t any other country in the world that has so many misconceptions about it…so much mysticism surrounding it…so many tales…so many epics...But being Indians we’ll never get to experience that rush of travelling to the land of elephants and snake charmers. Neither will we ever be able to appreciate Indian women as much as we appreciate firangs…but that’s a separate issue.

As I was lost in this deep thought…the bus came to a halt and the sudden commotion made me realise that till now almost everyone in the bus had been extremely silent and were glued in to every word I and WG exchanged…..and they were now giving me a look that was a mixture of 3 looks in varying degree:

1) The guys were giving me the ‘ghani angrezi main chapar chapar kar riya se’ look

2) The females were giving me the ‘dikhta toh Hindustani hai par chokhi angrezi bol lewe hai’ look

3) And the uncles were giving me the’ humari bhi baat karwa do’ look

Suddenly, feeling alienated amongst my own people, I starting saying goodbyes to the WG, and the girl by his side-who had just woken up. As we lugged our stuff and started walking towards the front door…I heard a distinctly American…distinctly female voice call out from behind me..

‘Excuse me…’

I turned around - could it be her??…I had forgotten about her presence completely…

‘Could you tell me when the next bus to Pushkar is’

Ahh Miyalaraam…I finally understand why this bus costs Rs 17 and not 14…

To be continued……..

Chapter 4 - Kiss of Death

2009-07-24T09:11:00.000-07:00

Me:’Miyalaraam, aaj saare Wholesalers ke target poore karwane hain…ok’

Miyalaraam (my top salesman at Kishangarh):’Ji sir’

Me:’Chalo, main Wholesalers ke naam leta hun…tum bolo target hoga ke nai…’

Miyalaraam:’Ji sir’

Me:’Oswal’

Miyalaraam:’hoga sir’

Me:’Shiv Shankar’

Miyalaraam:’hoga sir’

Me:’Apsara’

Miyalaraam:’hoga sir’

Me:’Nirmala’

Miyalaraam:’nai hoga sir’

Me:’Kyun’

Miyalaraam:’sir usse kisi ne goli maar di’

Me: (oh cmon…you really expected something here)

Ohk…so there are moments in life which leave you speechless…and then there are moments when you don’t know till 5 mins later that a moment 5 minutes back had rendered you speechless…because your mind had gone blank and it couldn’t take notice of your speechlessness! This was neither one of them…but this whole moment thingy sounded really cool so I put it there…

Anyways…coming back to the point…HOW THE HELL WILL I MEET MY TARGETS NOW…oops…missed the point again…

No really…coming back to the point…WHAT IN BLOODY HELL DID HE JUST SAY! Seriously, every now and then you settle into ‘Normal’ mode…where life starts following a pattern…a routine…and then just like the kid who will start crying the moment he see’s that Mom’s not paying any attention to it…arbit random shit starts happening. Here is the scene…this wholesaler…the biggest one in Kishangarh…is heading back home after work and carrying the day’s cash with him when 2 guys pull up on a bike…shoot him…he Is shot in the ribs but he makes sure he turns into the nearest sweet shop and deposits the cash there…and the guys run off…brilliant.

All day that day, this incident was the talk of the town. Any shop I went to..no one wanted to talk of Lux or Breeze…it was all Lachchu bhai (the wholesaler) and how bad a shape kishangarh was in. But getting airtime equal to the famous Lachchu bhai’s famous story…was another incident…of an unknown girl. Apparently, 2 days before the shooting incident, 2 guys on a bike had stopped a girl on the busiest road in Kishangarh…at 2 in the afternoon…held her hand…kissed her .. and driven away!

Now, what I found really interesting, was the way everyone in town described these 2 incidents. Each and every one of the n conversations I had that day ended with this line – ‘Batao sahib…kya halat hai kishangarh ki…sarre aam ladkiyon ko pappi de jaate hain…logon ko goli maar jaate hain’

When people said it this way…it just didn’t seem right to me…normally people say two things of comparable intensity/severity together…you know…it’s fine if someone says that 10 ppl died here and 14 died there…but no one says 10 people died here and even my foot is hurting…similarly…these two incident were not of comparable intensity by a long shot…but still everyone reported them together…in one breath…as if they happened simultaneously. Also, the kissing incident had happened 2 days back…why didn’t anyone feel the need to talk about it then!

The normal course of thought would be that these people are obviously worried about the state of crime in their town and it wasn’t until 2 incidents happened simultaneously that they realised how grave the situation was…and so they are reporting them now…together. Well, that is logical…but I don’t think it was the fear of crime…the fear of being hurt…or the fear of dying that I saw in many people who spoke the most passionately about this incident. No…I think it was the fear of not knowing when and how the crime..the hurt…the death will hit them. It was the ugly reminder that randomness had sent them to shake them out of their cosy homes made with patterned walls . I don’t think they knew it consciously…but they had just witnessed the thread called arbitrariness that binds life and death…through 2 explicit examples…one of life and one of death…

But does that mean we’d be better off if we knew when death will hit us??

I don’t know…there are people who know they will die in a month and some of them live their life in those 30 days while the others sulk it away. But what’s common to both reactions is the undercurrent of helplessness. Both know that they are helpless against what we call ‘fate’. Now the notion of fate has a n inherent self-annihilating paradox…the paradox is that the notion of ‘fate’ lives on an inherent belief in a pre-decided end to a particular chain of events..thus implying that there is a pattern…a method to the madness…but if there is a method…then I believe someone would’ve found it in the gazzilion years that human beings have existed…thereby eliminating the need for the mysterious notion of fate itself!!

But then again we, the human race, are extremely skilled at taking the easy route…so we go ahead and introduce another notion…that of a GOD…and using him/her (has that been settled yet?) give credence to the notion of fate…we say…ofcourse there is a pattern…and ofcourse we teeny tiny humans haven’t been able to/ never will be able to figure it out…because STRANGE ARE THE WAYS OF GOD…’wah re upar wale…teri maya koi nai samajh paya’….

What’s the result…we basically support a notion (of fate) that itself contradicts the premise that forms its very foundation, by inventing another notion (of God) that has no reason to exist except to keep a hundred other notions from being shattered…amazing!!

So are we doomed to a life of despair…when anything can hit us anytime…and we can’t even believe that there is someone up there who will serve justice…who is controlling all the variables…even if we can’t understand his modus operandi!!

The reactions that the people of Kishangarh had to this event were equally educative for me. There were people saying that now all shops will close down by 8pm…that they will ask for more police presence…that they will not send their women out alone….

Basically…all I could hear was…’we have seen 2 more forms of randomness and now we shall be prepared if randomness decides to repeat itself’…well hello…that is randomness’s core competence…it doesn’t fuckin repeat itself!!! ( The reaction reminded me of the Indian governments reaction to terrorist attacks…ohh they came from the sea…secure the ports now…they came by air…secure the airports now…seems like the government is saving the cost of hiring consultants who will tell them all the flaws at one go…whats the hurry…the terrorists are doing it anyway…and since they take some time…the costs get spread out!!)

Well…it didn’t fill me with despair…infact…I remember being quite happy that day…not that I wasn’t worried about the guy who got shot…but for me the 2 incidents reminded me that some unexpected good thing might be on its way…after all…randomness is extremely fair…the problem is that when it brings hurt people curse it…but when it bring happiness they feel that it had to happen and randomness gets no credit! Well I was happy…because in the fair world of randomness…the probability of a good thing and a bad thing happening is exactly the same!!

Ohh btw…the guy went into coma…came back out of it in 2 days…is absolutely fine now…and the 2 gunmen walked into the police station 4 days later and surrendered…No one know why they did so…(evil grin)

Baldy's Comb: Experience#1 - Hey Raam

2009-07-12T10:05:00.000-07:00

I was 2 weeks into my stint at Ajmer…it was 10 in the night…and me and 4 of my salesmen (Deepak, Hemant, Nandu and Praksh) were still at the distributor point. Suddenly, Deepak comes up with an idea:

Deepak:’Boss Yahan pass main hi ek Mela laga hai…aaj wahan khana khane chalen??’

Me (extremely tired…but tired even more of having restaurant food for 2 weeks):’Mele main khana…kya keh raha hai bhai?’

Deepak:’Boss langar lagta hai na mele main…chalo wahin khana khate hain aaj’

Ok..I think the only time I’ve been to a Langar was that time of my life that has been erased off my memory…Basically, I’ve heard that Gurdwara langars are amazing…and have heard people saying that “langar ki daal ka jawab nahi”…but the closest I’ve come to eating at one, is the ‘Been there done that look’ I give when people talk of what a heavenly experience it is to eat at a langar…you know, it’s the look all of us prudes have perfected, so that we don’t come across as fragile little rich kids who’ve never seen and enjoyed the ‘real life’
Me (The hungry me shouting yes): ‘Acha…chalo chalte hain (not wanting to look like a BOSS who thinks its below his dignity to eat at a langar)

Deepak to the other 3:’Abe chalo…langar pe…boss bhi aa rahe hain’

So we set off…all the thought about the langar had made me forget that it’s a mela too. And just like a langar…I don’t remember being to a real mela…so I ask Deepak:

Me: ‘Abe ye mela kya hai…kyun hota hai?’
Deepak:’Boss Sindhiyon ka mela hai…aaj last din hai’

Me:’Abe…sindhiyon ka hai…maana…but kyun hai…kis khushi main?’
Deepak:’Boss Sindhi lagate hain ye mela har saal’

Me(extremely irritated):’Abe saaale…sindhi koi c***** hain kya jo ek din uthte hain aur kehte hain chalo mela lagaenge…reason kya hai???’
Deepak:’Boss, kisi guru ki punyatithi hoti hai’

Ahhhh…finally…an answer…but as soon as I got the response, I looked around and we were entering the mela. It’s tough to describe the scene…it was surreal…it was the typical Mela from a typical early 90’s bollywood movie…loads of people…in traditional Rajasthani dresses…crowding a t various game tables and trying their hand at it. The games ranged from shooting balloons, to throwing a ring over different products (the products on the table were mostly soaps…and Prakash had a great idea that we can improve sales by ensuring that the guy oprating the game only used Lever’s soaps!!), betting on a dice…the works. There were people singing, people offering camel rides, people enjoying ‘kala khattas’…people forgetting their worries and having fun….you could feel the energy in the air!!

Walking on we reached a place where a hoard of people were gathered behind one of those sliding grill gates, which was closed and guarded by 2 people on the other side. The crowd on our side was growing every minute, people getting restless…shouting…pushing…

Deepak:’Late ho gaye…ab 10 minute lagenge’
Me(I think I got what he meant…I just didn’t wanna accept it):’kis cheez ke liye late ho gaye…kya keh raha hai?’

Deepak:’Arre boss, yei hai langar…darwaze ke uss taraf…abhi ek lot hai logon ka andar…jab who kha ke uthenge…gate khulega…aur hum andar jaenge. Mere khayal se humara last lot hoga…fir langar band’

Ohhk…so that’s why people are pushing to be at the front…there is limited capacity and no one wants to be left out!! Great…here I am…an HUL BLT…earning enough to eat out everyday…and now I shall fight for food…awesome!

I turned to look at the others…and they had an excited look..a look of challenge on their faces…as if it’ll be so much fun…to squeeze through this crown n get in…I didn’t get it. Well, I was playing ‘down to earth boss’ today, so couldn’t let anything show…so we carried on making small talk…a push here and a shove there…when suddenly, the gates opened….

For a moment I drifted back to the first time I boarded a local train in bombay…technically, I didn’t contribute much to the act of me boarding…the crowd just swept me in….
Deepak (shouting): ‘Boss chalo chalo…jaldi aao..’
Back to my senses…I rushed in…unlike the typical hindi movie…I made it well in time and the door didn’t close immediately after…sorry to disappoint

Anyways, once inside, I was instructed to take off my shoes and then go sit…sit where you ask…well, there were several rows of green carpet on the floor, interspersed with empty spaces. Simple arrangement, people sit on the carpet..the people serving food walk in the empty lanes. So another race began to catch a place before it becomes too cramped…well my salesmen had already done that for me…but having underestimated my size…kept just a little space…so I had to sit cross-legged with both my knees brushing my colleagues’ on either side.
Alright…the tough part is over mann…time for some food…and instantly, as if answering the cries of my hungry stomach…a bunch of kids started from the far end of all rows…placing plates (actually they were a bunch of dry leaves stapled together...not plates) in front of all guests. In a similar fashion, the food started getting served…what’s on the menu you ask:
1) Boiling hot boiled rice…the first thing to hit my plate
2) Yellow coloured water pretending to be daal…stuff that scalttered all over the flat plate as soon as it was poured…had to curl my hands around the plate to stop it from falling off
3) Rotis…nice tawa rotis…ohh it had been soo long…
4) A sabzi I’ve yet not been able to identify

Ok..now all I need is a spoon..and I shall dig in…’arre chamach lao jaldi…’
Prakash (his hand full of rice and daal stopping mid way to his mouth):’boss, haath se hi khana hai’
Ohh…ok…I had no problems with that…except that I’d been out in the field all day and not washed my hands…but whatever man…and I dug in…

Believe you me…it was PURE BLISS…to a man surviving on hotel food for 2 weeks…it was something money really couldn’t buy…and I’d forgotten how eating with one’s hands (expecially extremely dirty ones) just doubles the taste…orgasmic is the word…orgasmic!!!

So obviously…one serving wasn’t going to be enough…and again, as an instant answer…I saw a young lad serving daal in our row…he was walking with a container in his hand and serving those who asked for daal. I couldn’t figure what the people were saying…but I thought what else could it be but – ‘daal dedo’ or something. So the kid comes to me….and very politely I say, “daal dal do”…and well…he ignores me and walks past!! Didn’t he hear me…wtf!

Deepak:’Boss, ye sab Ram ke bhakt hain…yahan har cheez mangne ke liye…Raam naam jodna hota hai …dekho..’
He shouted – “DaalRaam….ChawalRaam”
And voila…he gets served…amazing!!
I don’t know how many times I said DaalRaam…RotiRaam…SabziRaam….that night….All I know is that I got up a satisfied man…

Two things that came to my mind once my stomach was full to the brim and my mind back up and running:
1) There were a lot of people in the crowd outside who looked like affording two meals a day was an uphill task for them…they were the ones who were desperately pushing to get in…I know it sounds AWFULLY senti…but I hope they all got in..that I didn’t take one of their spots
2) Food…I guess…is the only thing that can make an atheist like me say ‘Raam’ so many times!

Chapter 3 - Black is Fair

2009-07-02T08:36:00.000-07:00

This ‘thought thread’ started in my mind around 3 years ago, when sitting for an interview, the interviewer asked me:

He: ‘So you like debating?’

Me: ’I wouldn’t debate that statement’

He: ‘Alright…here is a pen (and he took out a black pen from his pocket and kept it on the table), lets debate about it’

Me (absolutely dumbstuck…but maintaining posture):’ummmm….’

He: ‘What happened…lets debate about this pen…do you like the pen or not…you chose your side…I’ll take the other…and lets debate!’

Me (alright…now I get it…actly I still don’t…I mean…what are we debating about!! But anyways…must not let it show):’Ummm…no no…it’ll be too easy if I choose…you chose…and I’ll go against that motion (atleast I’ll understand then what the motion is!!)’

He:’Ok…I say I don’t like this pen….let’s debate and see whether it’s a good or a bad pen…go…build your case’

Me(alrightt…now I really get it…this guy is mad…anyways):’ See…since I haven’t used the pen…haven’t even touched it…the only criteria I can base my like/dislike on is the color…and as I am supposed to like the pen…so yes…I like it because I like the color black’ (wow…absolute genious)

He (there couldn’t have been an easier shot…I could see that ‘Gotcha’ glint in his eye): ‘So you like it because it’s black…but black is the colour of mourning…of death…of fear…or negativity…of the hair I used to have…of my neighbours undies…and on n on……..and hence you are a negative fella…coz you like black’ (hah…K.O.)

Me: Black is Fair

And that’s where the thread started…everything that we look at with a negative mental connotation is actually the most fair. Black doesn’t discriminate…it absorbs everything. Light discriminates between white and coloured…darkness doesn’t. Life discriminates between young and old, poor and rich, smart and dumb, salesman and CEO, girl and boy, 1000 bucks and 10000000 bucks....death doesn’t.

The same thread matured into a keen study of randomness and patterns…and guess what…the rule holds! Chaos and randomness are most fair….it is the occurrence of patterns that introduces biases and hence unfairness in the system. Now now…don’t jump to the conclusion that I am building a case for anarchy here…my closest friends would tell you what a sucker I am for order…but the point is…while systems and patterns increase the predictability of events (the way most of us like it)… they always end up being more fair to some than to others. Why we still vouch for them…is because rather than it being a world which is equally bad for all…we want a world that’s better…albeit for a select few (whether that is right or wrong is a whole new thread that we shouldn’t embark on right now)

So, coming back to the point…HOW THE HELL is all this connected to the BLT blog…

Well, before I started on this job, I sat down to think about what I expected from it. I realised that a sales/field job was inherently a more random and chaotic job than a cushy office job. Let me explain. The degree of randomness of any activity can be measured by the number of ‘uncontrollable external variables’ that the activity introduces in your life. A sales job, where in you travel all day long, in the city, in the market, inter city…meet hundreds of people…pass by gutters and over flyovers and under tin roofs….inherently has a lot lot more of these uncontrollable variables (rash drivers bumping into you, the roof falling over, slipping into the gutter ;)) than an office job where in you get-up – take the same route to office – sit in office – comeback.

So, I figured that since my job is more random, then by my own logic…it must be more fair! But how do you decide it if it’s fair? Well, I thought that we work to be happy, so if I am exposing myself to more randomness, it’ll only be fair if I get more happiness in return! I know…strange are the ways a BLT whose screwed up in the head can think….but this is what I thought…

Armed with this hypothesis and a few more corollaries, I entered the Big Bad BLT (alliteration baby..) world…and almost 2 months into the job…I am happy to report that the hypothesis holds true!!

Wow…so you think that you have ‘more happiness’…and we are supposed to belive you. Excuse me, but MORE happiness than what…what’s your benchmark??

Good question…initially I thought that my 2 months stint at HSBC as an intern would be my benchmark, but I soon realised that talking to the pot while I pee makes me happier. And I couldn’t come up with any other measure…so I left it to life…I said that I’ll jump right in and give life a chance to prove me right…and it did!! (haven’t I done this whole I am right with 3 exclamations marks thing before…hmm). 2 months into the job, and I feel that my capacity to be happy itself has increased. By introducing me to experiences that I never imagined I’d have, life here has taught me how to appreciate and enjoy a much wider spectrum of situations, interactions, conversations and observations. Another person viewing/ experiencing the same thing wouldn’t derive as much happiness from it. In a nutshell, I no longer need to view happiness as water in a mug and compare it to the water level in another…my mug’s size has increased…I can now hold more water!!

With this post as a background (and reason), I now introduce to you a New Thread on this blog…a thread called Experiences (am sure you never would’ve guessed). This thread will break the monotony of the Book/ Chapter system that this blog follows. From now on, anytime I have a ‘mug expanding’ experience, I shall post it somewhere between these chapters…so that a few years down the line…when I look at my waistline and shout…’Holy hell…when did this mug turn into a bucket’…I can come back to the blog and revisit the culprits…

Watch out for Experiences….

PS: I am writing this post on a bus ride from Ajmer to Jodhpur…3 hours ago I got a call from my tutor asking me to come to jodhpur…and I packed a pair of clothes into my lappy bag…caught a bus and was on my way. Chaotic.. did you say!! Well lets see what extra dose of happiness awaits me at the other end of this trip J

Chapter 2 - I Forfeit The Right To Complain

2009-06-14T12:00:00.000-07:00

INSTANCE 1

The scene…Its 2pm in the scorching Ajmer heat…I am the pillion rider on a Hero Honda Super Splendor (yes…the model name is important) and my salesman Raghu is driving the bike…for the past 10 minutes…at exactly 30 kmph
Me to myself: aaarrrgghhhhh….am gonna tear my hair apart…its 2 in the afternoon…there is not a sane living being, not even a freaking dog on the road…and we….arrrgghhh…why are we not moving!!!!
Me to Raghu: Bhai…yeh isse tez chalti nai ya tu chalata nai?
Raghu (Smiling…as he always is): Chalti hai na Bosshhh (he has a lisp)…tez chalti hai
And saying so he continues to drive at 30...occasionally hitting 35. What’s even more irritating is the gear shifting and the acceleration…I think it took us 2-3 minutes to get to 35…our top speed!

INSTANCE 2

Here in Ajmer, I don’t have any conveyance…so I requested one of the salesmen to pick and drop me since He lived that side only and I had already calculated that it would be just a 1.5 km detour for him. There was a moment’s hesitation, and he smiled and said – ‘Sure Boss….

INSTANCE 3

It was Raghu again…he had been wearing the same dirty t-shirt for the past 5 days…when I playfully commented…’abe Raghu…bhai shirt chipak gayi hai kya’. Raghu laughed a faint smile, and wore the same shirt next day…

INSTANCE 4

I made a rule today…every salesman needs to report at 9.30 am sharp…attendance to be marked in an attendance register. Most agreed…some immediately and some by persuasion…but Himanshu…he didn’t say anything and left. The others later told me that he tales computer classes in the morning before coming.

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I’m sure everyone has by now grasped the common thread running through these instances (or have you…). But some calculations first:

Avg salesman’s avg salary:- 5000 (the range is 4000-6000 basis incentives)…(and it’s an extremely demanding job. Atleast 10 hours a day, 7 of those out in the market in the scorching heat or freezing cold…as the case may be.)

Avg kilometres travelled, in a month, by the salesman on his motorbike (yes, all salesmen have to use their own bikes to work the market) – 30km(per day)*27(working days atleast) = 800km(approx)

Avg mileage a Hero Honda Splendor gives (yes..all salesmen use this bike..ALL): 55 km/litre (its way lesser than a normal Splendor, because the salesmen have to start n stop the bike at 30 shops a day which are all 0.5 km apart)

So, at Rs 45/litre, avg money spent per month on petrol = 800/55*45 = 650 – 700 bucks on petrol burnt to do the job (haven’t included personal usage)

Include another 100 bucks avg on maintenance (don’t smile…a salesman’s bike is his most prized asset…he knows it’s his bread n butter earner - and he treats it better than most of us would) and the effective salary goes down to 4200 bucks a month!! (Haven’t included official phone calls yet)

I could’ve done a back of the envelope calculation on their personal absolute essential expenses (and don’t forget the huge EMI for the bike – it costs 45000 bucks), but I think it’s pretty evident that making ends meet is almost impossible. Yes, they do have family support, but they also have family to support…so I’m not even going down that branch.

So what’s the point of all this…should we pity them!

Personally, that’s what I did initially. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me how the hell could they afford a bike in the first place. I still haven’t been able to fathom how they manage expense…it’s a thought that constantly occupies my mind…but the instances I quoted above, gave me some clues…they also made me realise that ‘pity’ was the ultimate disrespect I could dish out to these extremely respectable people. Here’s how:

From Instance 1: There is a green coloured area on the speedometer of these bikes (I’ve been riding bikes since 10th standard and I never noticed it) that is the ‘Economy driving zone’. It is from 30-50kmph and Raghu always…ALWAYS drives within it. As everyone, that’s the first thing I noticed…but what I missed is how he calmly said – ‘isse tez chalti hai na boshh’ and then kept driving at the same speed. I later realised how all of them had adopted subtle cost cutting measures and made it a part of their lives (every salesman has adjusted his diet so that he doesn’t have to eat while working in the market…he takes a heavy morning breakfast and a heavy dinner and skips lunch; everyone of them wears a 100 Rs helmet...ALL THE TIME…because paying the challan is not an option). It’s hard to understand…but believe me…it’s not even something they notice now…nor do they feel pity for themselves…it’s just normal…their bikes moves at 35 just as normally as ours wouldn’t go below 60.

From Instance 2: While cost cutting measures (btw, it’s just us who think of them as ‘cost cutting measures’) are a part of life…the calculations are done for the entire month…right down to the last penny! So any deviation…any spike…even a 1.5km detour…is beyond elasticity limits.

From Instance 3&4: Most of my salesmen are young unmarried guys. All of them LOVE to dress smart. From flashy jeans to shades to perfumes…they do it all! The others have their own passions…one loves perfumes…the other loves eating…and they all do it. So while Raghu will cut down on washing clothes and save mind boggling amounts of fuel (one day Raghu comes to me running – ‘boshh boshh, maine reserve main gadi 150 km chala li’ – that is almost 70 km/litre!!!) to save some money, Himanshu will work 2 jobs but wear the latest trends and the best shades and shoes to match!

From Instance 5: (don’t go back up…it’s not there) – Inder Singh, another salesman (he, btw, somehow manages to have a ‘pauva’ with him all the time) lost his mother last Tuesday. We worked half day that day, and headed for the funeral. While I was busy grieving for his loss, my colleague Alok collected some money from the team and offered it to Inder. I was shocked…not that he did so, but at my ignorance! I never realised how this funeral came with monetary implications. No, Inder didn’t accept the help, but I wonder how and to what extent this unforeseen expense must have disrupted life. I still feel extremely bad that I have to talk of a funeral proceeding in such terms…but that’s just the truth…and I am trying to make my peace with it.

Btw, Inder Singh has an Airtel tower in his backyard that fetches him 5000 a month.
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PS: Here is what inspired this post: I had just recently done the calculations I’ve indicated above, when I remembered that on getting my first salary, I had taken my folks out for dinner to the most expensive hotel in town. A meal for 3 had cost me 5500 bucks…more than a salesman’s monthly salary. I couldn’t make peace with this number…I just couldn’t…and then Raghu came along…smiling as usual…’Boshh Boshh..aap saala time hotel ka khaana kha kha ke paleshan ni ho jate…main kal ghal se khana banwa ke launga aapke liye’
– I was at peace.

Chapter 1 - The Handshake

2009-06-08T12:28:00.000-07:00

Well...what better way to start the book...than to welcome you with the world's most oft used greeting - the handshake! But wait a second - I am a wily yet lonely shop owner and I must first know who you are, so that I may decide what handshake you deserve!! Pick the option that describes you best:

1) Respectable Stranger - You are on training to be an Area Sales Manager are you...hmm...now let me see:

Do I have any grievances against your company - No

Do I hate the guts of this guy who is introducing you to me - No

Am I older than 60, in which case nothing matters to me but making everyone's life miserable - No

Well then great..you shall get the Proper Firm Handshake...not too dramatic...not too light...just right!!

2) A guy from Levers - I don't care who you are...the salesman may call you boss...but no one is my boss...let me see...hmmm

Do I have any grievances against your company - like hell I do (when are you going to pick up the damages from my shop...why don't I get supplies at time...company humen lootne pe kyun tulli hai!!)

Well that's it - you get the Non-Committal, Disrespectful, 'Half my finger will touch half yours and I wont even curl myn' handshake...you know..the one where you wonder later whether you were actually shaking the guys hands or checking to see if he really was there!

3) Respectable guy from Levers - I am a big shop owner..you are going to be a hot shot...I am amazing at building relations...hmm...let me see

Do I have any grievances against your company - Maybe...but I have my own way of gettin stuff done..

Do I hate the guts of this guy who is introducing you to me - No...or maybe...but I'm good enough a diplomat to make him feel like Ive never loved anyone else more

Am I older than 60, in which case nothing matters to me but making everyone's life miserable - No

Well then...you've earned yourself a Double Handed..Full Fledged...Handshake...where I cup your hand with both of myn and shake it violently till you wonder whether we are Siamese twins or whether I am gay. Ill tell you how intelligent you are (though we've met for just 10 minutes)...I'll tell you a few stories of bravado n intelligence of my own...ill basically suck up!

4) An IIM Grad!! Well...I might be a big or small shop owner...but I am extremely erudite and hence I shall talk to you in English and give you a 'stiff upper lip' equivalent of a handshake..but wait...what shall I talk to you about!...hmm...let me see

Do I have any grievances against your company - No - Well in this case it has to be IIM.. about how tough it must be to get in...about this nephew of myn who is preparing for MBA...this cousin of myn who went to IIM A and is now with swiss bank...and If you are lucky...about my own extremely amazing educational background (why again are you sitting in a shop!!)

Do I have any grievances against your company - YES!! Man..you are in for trouble...get ready for discussions on margins...revenues (the 2 words i know...don't mock me).. about how the fmcg business model is so tilted against the shopkeeper (more on this later) ...and ofcourse...to assert the credibility of my statements...I shall make them all in extremely grammatically flawed english (or something like it)

5) A company guy - Well I am a small shop owner with big problems...and...

Do I have any grievances against your company - Yes...and you know why??

Do I hate the guts of this guy who is introducing you to me - YES...thats why!
So Ill offer you a firm professional handshake, with a look that says...you better fix what I haven't told you as yet...or even better...ill shake your hand while looking at the other guy...my eyes sayin...you are in for it dude...your nuts are myn!!

6) Do I know you...do i need to know you...do you even matter!! - I am a large wholesaler (lalaji)...

Am I older than 60, in which case nothing matters to me but making everyone's life miserable - YES!!

I have seen many come and go...so I wouldn't even take notice...yes yes...I hear someone in the distance introduce you to me...ok...I shall nod my head...and in doing so acknowledge your presence...and then start ranting off what I think about you, your company, this world, my neighbours underwear that he dries on my wall, the way the world used to be and how our women were fuller and more obedient than nowadays...but shake your hand...GOOD LORD NO...I shall not!!

These are the major types of handshakes that I have been party to in the past one month...there are many more P&C's...depending on a combination of the factors I have listed...but all those other handshakes have these 6 as basic ingredients in different quantities.Also, these are similar variations on the 'namaskar'...but i am sure you get the picture.

What's important is to understand how the shopkeeper tells you so much about:

Who he is
Who he thinks he is
Who he thinks you are
What that means to him
What he wants from you...what he expects from you
Whether he uses moisturizer...and does he help his labor with stocking the cartons
And most importantly...about how you must prepare yourself for what he wishes to throw at you

...with just one handshake!!

The Other Side

2009-06-07T07:04:00.001-07:00

Welcome!!

Now that you have shown the courage and decided to follow me to this new blog (refer latest post on http://patternedrandomness.blogspot.com/ )... welcome aboard!! Over the next one year...I shall attempt to capture all that is worth capturing (I decide the worth :)) from the one year training that I shall be undergoing at HUL. Each component of the training will make a separate book and each experience shall make a chapter within it. Unlike a normal book, there wouldn'e be continuity between chapters...which by design is in line with the theme of Total randomness that the blog follows. But the author (I always wanted to refer to myself as 'the author' :)) is sure that his amazingly intelligent and erudite audience shall make up their own mental picture of how these disconnected pieces join up...and hence shall form their own story of what I went through (which is as it should be)!

In case you can find a pattern in this chaos...do let me know..your questions...comments...discussions shall help keep the blog alive and the posts coming.

Book I - The Sales Stint!

We begin our journey in the arid lands of Rajasthan...the place where I shall be spending 5 months (starting may) of my training. This shall be my sales stint...the 19 week period where I literally sell soaps to earn a living! Along the way, I shall treat this blog as a tool to reflect upon, to share and to analyse the various things I notice and the varied experiences I have (since this blog comes a month after the stint started...I already have a few things to share!)

Yea yea...no one likes the preface...wanna start with the chapters...well just a little background before we get going. I started off my stint in Jodhpur, where I stayed for 2 weeks. The aim was to start grasping the FMCG business...the systems n process..the terminology and the roles...before I went to Ajmer (which is my current location) and took up my independant charge. Now, If the above doesnt make any sense to you...its ok...the blog isn't about HUL, the BLT program or the FMCG Business...its about what all I learnt, noticed and was touched by while I was failing miserably at understanding the FMCG business (hope my tutor doesn't read this :))

Well that's it...lets begin!!