Whats INR 500/-, worth after all??

1 CND = 40 INR (approx)

1 USD = 50 INR(approx)

1 AED = 13 INR(approx)

Through my many travels , I have realized that the first thing the mind acclimatizes itself too , is the conversion rate. And our reaction is in direct proportion to the rate.

Scene 1:

Location : Dubai , U.A.E

A few years back , I was in the rich sands of Dubai. In the deserts of Dubai , one may have expected to thirst on water, yet being in the rich sands of Dubai , meant an abundant supply of Coke and Pepsi. A can of Pepsi came at 1 AED. Not at all a bad deal!. So there I was sipping on the dark beverage of life , in the land of oil (pun intended). The heat of Dubai , always required one to remain within the four walls of an air conditioned room. The car was air conditioned , so were the toilets. Yet we complained it was hot, after all , weren’t we in a desert. It was conveniently forgotten that we were living life’s of sheiks.

On one such day, smack in the middle of July , when the heat of the sun was relentless, I found myself stranded in a mall with no means to return home. Actually the only way back , was to walk. The walk though only 10 minutes, was something that one would not consider under normal circumstances. The mercury was almost touching degrees. However , the desire to do the unthinkable , only stirs a kid’s to jump right in. 50 degrees , it would be a great achievement if I made it home. So with my chilled can of Pepsi, I  stepped out , knowing that I would perhaps be the only person in the street at 1 in the afternoon. And i was right , I was the only one . Within a minute of my exposure to the heat and humidity , I could feel my shirt merge with my sweat. Within 5 minutes, I was getting dizzy, but the distant site of my house kept me going. I pushed on , until I was at the doorstep of my building. I had made it , and now I had something to gloat about. I took one look back into the abandoned street , to let the feeling settle in. As I was about to enter , a movement caught my eye. It was a person leg under the ground floor  balcony next to me. I followed my gaze , and found a person in a blue overall sleeping underneath the balcony. And he was not alone, for under each stretch of balcony’s that covered the pathway , there was one person in each occupying it. And they were asleep, under the shade the balcony provided. For a person who spent hours toiling in the construction sites , in the nakedness of the day , this shade was the only air conditioning they would experience. As my sweat trickled down , I took a sip of my pepsi. It was no longer chill, and without its chill it was just flavoured , sugar water.

Scene 2:

Location : Pune , India

Employed in an IT company is a big deal , especially when your earning are in 6-7 figures and you are in a prominent position. One may think , dining at the Le Meridien or Taj, was an expensive affair.  A dinner for two , well 900 Rupees. which actually with a bit of planning could be something , that could be done on a weekly basis. Work was hectic , and after clocking 10 hours a day , we were never in the mood of cooking . It was more convenient to drive down to a KFC and order a meal . 120 Rupees , well we had our meal coupons , and technically we were saving on tax. 120 INR , well that was around 10 AED. Not a bad deal!.  our appraisals were around the corner, and we were worried. The economy crash meant probably only a 4 % hike , compared to the 16 % I had, had in the previous year. But there was my promotion also , so perhaps I would get an additional 4%. An 8 % hike , it was depressing. I was lost while I was biting into the juicy legs of the Chicken. Lost in my thought, I was not aware , of the hungry eyes that peered at me from outside the window. Such sights are common in India , and within a few months of settling here , I got used to it.

I packed a sandwich( for later in the night , in case I got hungry) and walked out. Just as I was about to open my vehicles door, I felt small grip clasp my shoe. I turned back to see a rugged Beggar child , with eyes that seemed to have absolutely no purpose in life. ‘Beggars, When will this country improve’ ,  it was a fleeting , thought that often crossed my mind. He was getting his dripping mucus all over my Woodland Shoes. Without even paying attention to what he was saying , I reached into my pocket, and groped for a 1 rupee coin. He didn’t take it , He kept pulling at my leg , begging to polish my shoes. His brush was old , and God only knows what it had on it. He begged me , pointing at his mouth. Perhaps he had not eaten, his body was frail. And this is exactly what I hated, the look of a person who suffered.Its a dog eat dog world, and it had taken me a lot of hard work to get that 2000 Rupee shoes. I reached into my packet, took out the sandwich and offered it to him. He looked up , and I saw tears in his eyes. And though he mouthed his words, it was perhaps the most clearest of words I had ever hear.

‘Bhaiya(Brother), please don’t offer me money. I don’t want to be a beggar. Let me polish your shoes. If you really want to give money , then please buy me a polish , so that I can earn my living.’

My 50 Rupee sandwich lost its taste. After all , it was only a bun , with a slice of meat and lettuce. And 8 % increment on an existing 7 digit salary, didn’t seem bad after all

Scene 3:

Location : Canada

A few years later , I decided to , leave India in pursuit of my higher studies. I had got a good offer , and was receiving full funding. I converted all my earning , and left the shores of India , as a proud person. I was after all funding my own education. During my tenor at work , a lot of friends , had travelled abroad on business initiatives. They often came back with a lot of electronic items. ‘Its cheaper abroad’. And it was true. 1 USD was surely around 50 Rupees, but the items turned out to be a lot cheaper, when actually compared to the prices in India. Well it seemed like heaven , for an electronics buff. That was until , I got here.

In India , things were different , the 7 digit salary , always ensured your bank account was filled. Conversion on the salary into CND meant a drastic reduction in the number of zero’s. The psychological impact was more in terms of depression. With no income , and the available funding going in tuition’s and accommodation , dinners at Le Meriedien , seemed far from even a remote possibility.

A normal burger at KFC , was 5 CND. That translated to 200 INR !. Now that was expensive. A Hot Dog came to around 2.50 CND. It was surprising that there were no beggars on the streets. Well the thought had crossed my mind. Afterall , it was a drastic change, and bottled water too was pretty expensive. The water in the coolers had this Flourine taste to it. I didnt have medical insurance, I didn’t have a vehicle , or extra cash to tip a taxi driver!

This went on for a while . I learnt to constrict my stomach to a ratio , it had never known. Well as long as my pocket was being preserved, I really didn’t mind. It was on the day that I was receiving my first payment , that I decided to treat myself. Japanese food . 8 CND , well I had after all sacrificed  a lot many lunches. I dug in, ate like I had never seen food . Drank my root beer , merrily. I was about to let out a nice sigh of relief , when across me sat a person. He was pretty small in size , his face seemed really big for the small eyes he had. He looked at me , and tried to ensue a conversation. I was least bothered. He kept talking and talking. I really didn’t hear most of what he said. In Canada , people mind their own business. As I was about to get up , I noticed the tissue in his hand. It contained his lunch, a small sausage. And only a sausage, no bun , no lettuce. Just a plain sausage. His small eyes followed my gaze , and he smiled and told me. ‘Its my only meal of the day, so please don’t mind if I eat it slowly. The pepsi’s too expensive here’. He smiling while he said it , and I believe that was the first time , I noted he was an Asian. I reached into my pocket , took out a dollar and gave it to him . I don’t know why , but giving away that dollar , felt a lot better than the lunches I had skipped to save it.

There were tears forming in the corner of eye. I really don’t know why. I concealed it , as I walked pass the hallway into the train depot. As I entered the train depot, a sweet melancholy echoed through the hallway. Sad , yet beautiful. I love the voice of the violin. It grew stronger as I moved closer towards the station.  In search of the source of the music , I turned the corner and stopped. It was an old lady , much older than my mother.She sat on the platform , her hands gyrating with an essence that perhaps only a mother could experience. indeed the sweet melancholy , I had her , had a story.’ Need money for my son’s air fare to meet me’ .

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Whats INR 500/- in our life. three bottles of Smirnoff ? A branded Jockey ? A 500 Recharge Voucher?

Its true what they say , what can Rs 500/- bring us. A normal ReeBok T shirt, comes to INR 1500 . There are T shirts worth INR 200 , but in a washign or two it gets spoiled. Branded T Shirts last longer, its a known fact. But what about the fat gained gorging those INR 100 rupee meals, or the beer belly that accompanies the parties, Do these branded T Shirts grow with it. Sure enough we need clothes , food and why restrict ourselves. We have earned it. It was not our problem that we were born in such pitiful circumstances. We live every day , to make the maximum of our blessings. We live to be happy.

I have bought  stuff worth thousands of Rupees, I have dined in the grandest of hotels, been in the company of CEO’s . I have degree’s from the best universities in the world. I have all the foundation for taking on the world. And though I may be in some years down the lane , capable of buying all the happiness in the world; somewhere down I shall crave something more. I shall crave the coolness of the shade on a hot summers day , the tears of joy , when I parted with my dollar  and most of all I shall crave the happiness of the child who gave up food for a chance to earn it.

Whats INR 500/-, worth after all?

Parents Trail- A Highway of Wrong Signals

As everyone knows , life is constituted of many stages.And perhaps on of the most cumbersive and longest stages is the stage of  Parenting. In an Indian society, Its like a one way track, with absolutely no you turns. And anyone who has ever driven on a highway , knows for a fact , that people hardly ask for direction, until they are lost. Well its the very same with parenting.

When I was a kid , and by kid , I mean real small, everything was all fine and ok. My parents were on that highway , and it just seemed like a road trip, with all the singing , dancing. They really didnt have to do much , I was just eating , pooping , sleeping. They travelled in cruise control with their fuel tank full. There were tons of people who came and gave them advice on raising me up. From brand new BMW ‘to worn out Chevy’s , the range of experience was and wide. But my parent cruised along in their 2 seater Camero. Well that was till I was 3 years old , and seat belts proved more hazards to my parents. It’s pure common sense , cross a 3 year old with a seatbelt , and you’ll get one restless todler , with an amazing accuracy with his kick.

so all of a sudden, I started growing , and did a lot more than pooping and eating. I needed food , clothes and a lot   more of other stuff. It was then that my grand parents , drove by in their worn out Chevy and advised my parents to shift to a family sedan. Well we moved to a bigger house , Dad got a better job , whilst mom stayed at home. I started going to playschool and came back with a whole lot of bruises. My mom was often called in to meet the principal. I really didn’t understand why though. We were after all playing a game of see saw, only as smart kids we improvised. When he pushed me , I pushed him back!

A few months later , i started returning home with a lot fewer bruises. It must have made mom veyr happy , because I often heard her give advice from her family sedan , to the new cameros’tht passed by. Well that would have remained the case , had it not been for the phone call complaining, of my recent habit of sitting on people.Well , my parents fed me quite well , and all the shoving used to be tiresom. So I just sat on them.

And then puberty hit me. It was rather hard for them to accept my sudden interest in geometry. My grades started dropping, or rather plummeting , into what seemed to them , a bottom less pit. And that was exactly when one of my aunts flew by our family sedan , in her space ship. Apparently there was this pujari , who gave out amulets . The amulets possessed karmic properties. Well my parents were ready to believe anything , except a genuine interest in curves. So they traded in their fully loaded , well educated sedan , for a space ship, driven only on gas! My ears were pierced, in the name of the cosmic realm. My  grades did improve,and my parents became happy. if there was nay doubt in that space ship, it vanished when they saw my grades. Karma sure did help me out , so did the chits I had stowed away.

My parents strut their highway , in their shiny space craft. Passing on advice and pujari pamphlets to any family sedan that passed their way.  They were once again in cruise control. That was until my final year of college , when I returned home , with a friend of mine. They were happy with the friends , I made . They attributed to the Gods and the rituals they had performed for me. They especially like my friend. They always saw me with him , and they were pleased karma , had blessed me with a best guy friend. Karma had gotten rid of worries they had of my interest in geometry. Well that was until that year ,when they found out the Karma had worked really well. Though not interested in curves as was intended by the amulet ,my interest was shifted to the lines and crevices of a more muscular nature.

My parents traded in their space craft, and ever since then, they have driving that old worn out Chevy on the Highway of Parents Trail

Oh to Save .. !!!

I was eighteen when i first had my own bank account. While handing me my passbook, my dad gave me a stern look. ‘Son’ he said, ‘this is the beginning of a new chapter. Use this wisely’. Well that was what his lips said , but his eyes said ‘Son , The number of digits on your account better remain at a explainable number , else Somebody’s going to get hurt’.

Well that was the beginning of the never ending cycle called Saving. Through the  four years of college , I saved and saved where ever I could. The blinders enforced upon me , by my dads threat, kept me many yards away from any restaurant that could even remotely be termed as fancy. For that fact it came me far away from anything that offered more than a ‘chai’. At the end of four years , my bank balance, though significantly lesser than my starting value , was quite explainable. I was happy , and felt a sense of accomplishment. College was done , and I carried in my hand a five figure appointment letter. Ladakh , Ooty , Hell Europe here I come !

And there I was smiling to all my glory , proud of my achievement, when my dad came upto me and said ‘Son , Not bad’, but his eyes said ‘You call that a saving , Son when I was your age , I made a living out of single digits. What are you so proud off!’. And there it was , the silent noise of my balloon bursting.

My starting salary , a 5 digit figure. Who needed savings now . After all I had managed to survive on a such a meagre amount in college. I would probably make tons. And there I was smitten by the arrogance that accompanied such ignorance. Six months later , the growth in bank balance , remains to be noted. It has not depreciated , but neither has it grown. Its quite confusing , as all my time is spend in the office. I silently found myself thinking of the places that I had dreamt of visiting . Hell , forget those places, I found myself wondering, when i could get some time off to rush to the toilet!

A few months later , comes the dreadful call from home. The rough coarse voice of experience reverberated through the phone. ‘Son , how are you doing ?’. Was it a rhetoric question ? A question aimed at proving a point. How was I supposed to answer it. ‘I’m doing fine Dad, pretty fine’. And that gave rise to the next. ‘Hmm… so now that everything is fine , you should be looking to get settled.’ And that was what the voice said, but the thought on the other side of the line, went ‘Hmm , so you say you know how to save. Well , its almost a year , how much , has that 5 digit salary helped your bank account’.  Pop , all dreams of a Ladakh trip vanish , hell, I think I have got to start skipping lunch.

A few years pass. I finally get myself a new top of the model Maruti car. I take my Dad out for a spin. He’s happy and perhaps proud of  his son. I’m happy. Hmm .. perhaps now I could drive down to Goa and have a blast for new years. I sit down on the dinner table . Mom comes and hands me the plate. On the plate were three photo’s of three beautiful girls. ‘Son , now that you are fine , and have a car. You should now get married. We are getting old too’. Well thats what her voice said, but her trembling hands said, ‘Son , we are getting old and we see you spending on things like a car. You probably will now want to party with your money. We wont be able to support you for ever. You have to get serious , you need to take up more responsibility’.

And there , the sight of those trembling hands , made me gulp down all my hopes of a Bacardi Blast on New Years eve.

That was a few years back. Now am settled. I’m half way through with my installments on the house. I’m earning a 6 digit salary. My Bank balance has grown. I’m expecting my first kid, and have planned in advance for the same. I think of buying myself a new Home theatre system. My wife walks after her UtraSound appointment. She’s ecstatic and more or less yelps ‘We’re having twins!’

Ýippeee’I yell . I’m happy and overjoyed , yet somewhere at the back of my mind , I cant help but think of the old TV in the attic.

Its twenty one years  since I had my twins. Family planning didnt work too great with us. Had one more kid , and she’s 19 years. The twins are finally getting out of university . Am happy. Now they will earn. I can peacefully retire. I’ve made enough for the younger one. The twins come up to me and say ‘Dad , we want to do our MBA’s aborad’. I go like uhh.. , but before I could say anything , my Daughter comes rushing in ‘Dad , I’ve finally decided what I want to do! I want to be a doctor, and I’ll do it only from states!’. My mouth opens. No words comes out. My kids just look at me and say ‘Happy Fathers day!

That was six years ago. My daughter got married to someone of her choice and left her MBBS . The twins , tried to set up their own venture, and now have totally outwitted themselves. They tell me, ‘Dad you got to chill’. But When I hear them I know they are saying ‘Dad , I really dont know what went wrong. i’m broke.

Well I’m past 60 . There can be no Ladakh trips, nor any Bacardi Blast. I have my house and a hot cup of coffee. My bank balance is huge , but what use is it to my broken body. I look to my kids and tell them  Í have lived for all of you . What is mine is yours? . So here take it.’But my voice says,’So here you go children, but remember you better take of your dads life savings. Or Somebody going to get hurt!’