How would you feel if you went around a noisy vehicle, from 9 to 9, every single day of your life? Tired? Exhausted?
Spent 12 hours of your work day on the road negotiating traffic? Frustrated?
Encountered 8 people who were suspicious of you, four who shouted at you, two who walked away without paying you for your time and effort and another one who threatens to file a police complaint against you? Disgruntled?
A couple of fines, a few challans and the perennial threat of your only means of livelihood being picked up in a tow away van? Disillusioned?
Actually you would feel like the ubiquitous auto rickshaw driver in Hyderabad. Agreed, you’ve all had awful experiences with this breed but did you ever try just being nice to him? Yep, being nice to the auto driver!!! He may not thank you. He may not even give the Rs 2 change back after the transaction. But he will certainly send you an invisible vibe that will linger long after the noisy auto rickshaw swirled off into the busy thoroughfare.
I am not someone who uses the three- wheeler too much but on occasions I did, I met extremely nice fellas. One who helped me find a cobbler in the bylanes of Marredpally. Another who did not charge me the mandatory Rs 12 when he found his metre was not working after we crossed nearly 3 km. But I’ve heard of horror stories from friends about the auto drivers and their harassment.
Interestingly, those who fear and detest the autowallah invariably get the crudest and rudest fellow. Must be the ‘you attract what you think’ rule. Sometimes, it feels great to just let go. Not argue with him about the four rupees he did not give back. Not suspect that his metre charged you six rupees more than what you normally pay! It feels great to give him 70 and ask him to keep it if the fare is Rs 66. The glint in his eyes, the smile on his lips send me vibes that are much more than the four bucks I’ve saved.
I’ve often been accused of being a spendthrift at the vegetable market or for not bargaining for two rupees less with the old lady selling guavas. Frankly, sometimes I feel like letting them have those few extra bucks. I would probably anyway spend that ten on a Chotta Pepsi and guzzle it in a less than a minute. But it could get them a bunch of green leafy vegetable to make hot sabzi for dinner that night.
I deliberately don’t fight with the vegetable vendor, flower seller, parking boy, street corner bhutta (corn) walla, garbage collector and balloon boy at the traffic light… I don’t know if the two bucks that I don’t bargain for will make his day. But I know that giving away that two bucks for someone who has done a little service for me has made my day, bought me a wee bit satisfaction and yes, that little invisible ‘Good day’ vibe he sends.
For me, it is happiness@Rs 3!
-ends
Jan 14, 2009
Jan 6, 2009
Less is more, Excess is bore
The best moments in life are not meant to be captured as silly tif images in your mobile camera or viewcam. They are meant to be amassed as lovely memories and cute reminiscences in your heart’s desktop.
It was a beautiful moment on that glittering morning on the summery beach. We were in a make-do wooden boat on the Miramar beach in Goa and ostensibly on a ‘Dolphin sighting’ trip. Dolphins are considered to be amongst the most intelligent of animals and their often friendly appearance and seemingly playful attitude have made them popular with the tourists. We were all geared up with the paraphernalia - binoculars, sunglasses and straw hats - to catch a glimpse of this aquatic mammal. After steering a few minutes into the deep, azure waters, the boatman showed us, ‘Dekho, waha hai.” There were squeals of delight, oohs of pleasure and aahs of ecstasy. Everyone in the boat now took out their cameras – digicams, phone cameras, viewcameras and went click, click, click. The next few moments were spent in showcasing their triggering skills. “Oh, yours is a Cannon Powershot A530. How many megapixels? Is it a 4 X zoom. Got it in India?”. “No, from my cousin in Dubai. Has a 1 GB SD card free also.”
Not one in the boat was actually relishing the graceful leap or noticed the swing of the dolphin’s waist and the sway of its rocky black skin against the glitter of the sun. Alas, the moment was gone forever. It was only captured as a silly tif.image in their cameras. Everyone came back home and heroically downloaded the pix. Yes, there was the dolphin against the waters, but it was just a dumb photograph that they would show the world.
Ever wondered why your Grandpa’s single keepsake Black & White photograph is more appealing than your 1214th picture of your new car? Excess is boring, less is more.
Some things in life – like the Mahamangal aarti at a temple, the secret kiss to your new bride, the first smile of a newborn, your Dad’s hug when you turn a first time Dad, your mom’s tears on your first appearance on television - are not meant to be stored as tif.images on your desktop. They are meant to be permanently amassed in your heart’s memory bank and relished every time you recollect it. You are not supposed to spend time recording it in your viewcam or your mobile camera, then dump it in your PC and forget about it. The next time we went to Goa, I laid down the rules. A) I will NOT pose for any pix B) I will NOT click pix for anyone C) I shall not spend all my time protecting the silly camera from the water, the sand or the hangers-on the beach.
This time around, I have fond memories of the dolphin with yellow spots, the devotional frenzy on the streets of Tirumala, the young boy immersed in meditation on the Rameshwaram beach. I don’t own a phone camera, viewcam or a digicam. I only have the built-in camera God has given me when I was born. Thank you God!
It was a beautiful moment on that glittering morning on the summery beach. We were in a make-do wooden boat on the Miramar beach in Goa and ostensibly on a ‘Dolphin sighting’ trip. Dolphins are considered to be amongst the most intelligent of animals and their often friendly appearance and seemingly playful attitude have made them popular with the tourists. We were all geared up with the paraphernalia - binoculars, sunglasses and straw hats - to catch a glimpse of this aquatic mammal. After steering a few minutes into the deep, azure waters, the boatman showed us, ‘Dekho, waha hai.” There were squeals of delight, oohs of pleasure and aahs of ecstasy. Everyone in the boat now took out their cameras – digicams, phone cameras, viewcameras and went click, click, click. The next few moments were spent in showcasing their triggering skills. “Oh, yours is a Cannon Powershot A530. How many megapixels? Is it a 4 X zoom. Got it in India?”. “No, from my cousin in Dubai. Has a 1 GB SD card free also.”
Not one in the boat was actually relishing the graceful leap or noticed the swing of the dolphin’s waist and the sway of its rocky black skin against the glitter of the sun. Alas, the moment was gone forever. It was only captured as a silly tif.image in their cameras. Everyone came back home and heroically downloaded the pix. Yes, there was the dolphin against the waters, but it was just a dumb photograph that they would show the world.
Ever wondered why your Grandpa’s single keepsake Black & White photograph is more appealing than your 1214th picture of your new car? Excess is boring, less is more.
Some things in life – like the Mahamangal aarti at a temple, the secret kiss to your new bride, the first smile of a newborn, your Dad’s hug when you turn a first time Dad, your mom’s tears on your first appearance on television - are not meant to be stored as tif.images on your desktop. They are meant to be permanently amassed in your heart’s memory bank and relished every time you recollect it. You are not supposed to spend time recording it in your viewcam or your mobile camera, then dump it in your PC and forget about it. The next time we went to Goa, I laid down the rules. A) I will NOT pose for any pix B) I will NOT click pix for anyone C) I shall not spend all my time protecting the silly camera from the water, the sand or the hangers-on the beach.
This time around, I have fond memories of the dolphin with yellow spots, the devotional frenzy on the streets of Tirumala, the young boy immersed in meditation on the Rameshwaram beach. I don’t own a phone camera, viewcam or a digicam. I only have the built-in camera God has given me when I was born. Thank you God!
Dec 26, 2008
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