People Who Matter.

India offers the luxury that the west can never have. There are people everywhere and that translates to a far greater frequency of connect. These connects means dependencies which transpire into reverse enslavement. Yes, while we hold lofty views about freedom, we are actually very very dependent on the ‘People Who Matter’.

There was a post that I wrote a couple of years ago which is titled ‘Survival Ecosystems’ which you can find in the 2008 drop down.

I wrote that as an ode to the man who made sure that he ‘took care’ of my most prized material possession along with that of many other hurried office goers. Mishraji, the Lord of the parking cartel and his ilk continue to prosper even in these times. The job description for these brave souls almost never changes. And there there is never a frown or a grimace that appears in the line of duty. The contentment that they have in doing what they do, hour after hour, day after day, month after month, and year after year is unsurpassable and it just seems to reach stratospheric proportions. I moved on from that zone that Mishraji rules in, meaning I changed jobs. But I do manage to get to his kingdom every other month and he still can spot my car from a fair distance. He has the same smile that can lift the spirit of the most depressed souls on the planet. His simple demeanor that has a warm approach says it all. With a circular iron ring slung across his left forearm which has hundreds of keys that are worth over a couple of crore rupees, he commands his post like a General at the warfront. He doesn’t seem to realize the value he has and the pity is that neither do the hundreds of those who entrust him with their assets know it. I am probably the only one who knows his life’s ambition which is to go back to his village and get back to a quiet life of farming. But this can happen only after his four kids are up on their feet in the big bad world of urban indifference.

I am always in awe of people like Mishraji. I always imagine how life in India would be if these unsung warriors were not around. Who is going to fix the frequent disruptions that happen to our domestic lives? What would I do without Dinesh, the electrician who doubles up as my man Friday? What would I do without Rout, the plumber who almost always drops everything to come repair a leaking tank or a faucet? What would we do if Rupa, the cook, didn’t show up? There are many whose names are just a memory now but I have a deep sense of gratitude for them.

Every trip back home is mandated by a visit to Koti’s shop who prides in his snipping abilities. He is the same guy who snipped my mane from the time I was four years old. From those days of shearing the top to this day of ‘special’ treatment to the boy who he saw grow up. He looks frail now but his fingers still work the work with the same speed and precision that only a seasoned hand has mastered. Ashok, the kirana store owner on our street back home, is reminiscent of Pappu, the skylab icon at my alma mater. Both look very similar with those stained bunny teeth imploring the lips to make way for a world view. Ashok always had a candy ready for me when I used to return from school. It was probably his way of working at customer loyalty but the real reason (which I realized much later) was that he expected us to stop by every time we passed by. It didn’t matter if we bought anything or not, as most often we did. His store was at the corner of our street which had a dead end and he knew he had to ensure to stay well in the eyes of his captive customers.

Going further back, Mallanna was the man who instilled the confidence to try the untried. He was the milkman in Narsapur, who taught me how to ride a bicycle when I was there during the summer of ’86 to visit my maternal aunt. He even taught me how to ride a buffalo in his milk yard where he owned about nine buffaloes. While I mastered the bicycle, slow buffalo riding was not a sustainable option. Today, Mallanna is a grandfather who lords over this dairy business which apparently diversified into a couple of sweetmeat stores in the town. His brood of buffaloes apparently is over a hundred strong today, which is bound to be, as he must be servicing the sugar needs of Narsapur through his extended empire. Happy for him!

Today, I went to visit one of my four band of ‘barber brothers’ – Anwar, Riyaz, Usman and Salim. Usually, one of these four answers the phone and then gets to my place for a quick personalized snip session. This being the season of Id, I decided to go to their shanty shop and it was Salim for this time around. Riyaz and Anwar were back in their village for a brief vacation from the rushes of urban strife while Usman was at home recovering from the flu. Each of these brothers ‘know’ what is expected and they take special care for the little extra that they always get from my end for their personalized attention. What is more amazing to me is that our conversations border along philosophical lines and not so much about it being a monologue from them about bad their existence is. Salim told me that Usman was keen to get well soon so that he could go home with him to be with family on the holy day of Eid. Every Eid, they get a handsome tip and the only trade off is some yummy mutton curry that they are yet to get me to taste.


There are at least a couple of dozen more people about whom I can go on. In retrospect, I have always learnt something from each of them. I have smoked beedis with rickshaw-pullers with the same enthusiasm I have for conversations at work or at home with friends and colleagues. I have been amazed at their outlook towards life and the subtle humor they have developed to deal with the vagaries of life.

After many such wonderful touchpoints, life continues to be impacted by many more who are innocuously all around us. Most of them are simple hopefuls who do not expect more than a kind word and a friendly smile. They are not greedy by any stretch of my imagination. At least most of them are not from what I have seen. It is the proud silence and diligence with which they go about doing their work. And from this, I learnt that no matter what, it is passion for life and work that counts in the final analysis.

I continue to bow my head in awe and respect of those who appear to be God’s lesser children but are the true custodians of his creativity. These are the ‘People Who Matter’ who make things happen! Without them, the wheels of life will get derailed, at least in this part of the world.