THE HERD
"Nice belt," he complimented looking at my belt.
"Thank you," I acknowledged his compliment.
"Where did you buy it from?" he enquired, feeling the leather with his hand.
"The roadside," I informed.
"Be serious," he checked the buckle.
"I am. I bought it ten years ago, and I use it daily," I added.
"And, how much did you pay for it?" he was still not ready to believe me.
"Sixty bucks."
Nodding his head in disbelief, he pulled his belt out. "Look at this. I bought it from a famous store for four hundred. It is supposed to be a 'fine Italian leather'! ... And, look at its state ... Not even a year; and, I don't use it every day ..." he said.
"I have experienced it countless times," I sympathised holding his Italian stuff which was in tatters. "I have three 'branded' belts at home, not even two year-old. I am afraid to use them even once a week, leave alone daily."
The rest of our discussion centered around this peculiar obsession of mankind, named: BRAND CONSCIOUSNESS.
"Pritesh, my son, used to take tuitions from a local tutor till he completed his ninth. He was doing extremely well. Still, for his tenth standard, my wife was unwilling to risk his future in this local tutor's hands. 'It is Boards! He has to go to the best coaching class.' she would scream at me. And, we spent a bomb on fulfilling that desire." A parent narrated this to me.
Pritesh secured a princely 65% in his 'Boards', and joined a local commerce college!
I know another man. He is the height of brand consciousness. He stays in the same flat for the past twenty years, and drives the same car for the past five years. Possibly, he can't keep discarding them, because he can not afford. Still, when it comes to his hair-cutting, his shoes and sunglasses, even his doctors and tailors, he is obsessed with the 'best brands'. He would harp about a particular cardiologist. "Do you know this: You can't get an appointment with him for the next fifteen days. He charges two thousand for the first visit, and one thousand for the subsequent ones." The saloon he visits, the tailor he frequents, and even the Guruji his family follows ... oh! all of them are 'the top class' and nothing less than that.
And, mind you, two thousand for ten minutes; maybe, twenty, at the most!
But, this man has no complaints. For, he considers it as his 'privilege' and 'honour' to be under such a great man's care!
The other day, my friend, Manjeet, bumped into some one - whom both of us know - in the Income tax office. Manjeet is an accounting professional, and he has consciously kept his show small. He likes to work at his own pace, and on his own terms. So, at the IT office, when the other guy looked panicked and lost, Manjeet tried to ease out his tension. After a while, when they were in the canteen, the other fellow boasted about his CA, "He is a big name; he has thirty people working under him."
"That's really great, my friend. Tell me, if so, why hasn't he sent one of those 'thirty' to this office, today? Why has he given you this stress?" Unlike me, Manjeet can coolly 'fix' people - where they belong!
"Today is the last day, you see; they are extremely busy," the faithful gave the reason.
My illiterate mother used to tell us in our village: "In the slaughter house, the sheep will trust none, except the butcher. Yes, it will offer its neck only to him, and so faithfully!"
Some months ago, I had this great 'privilege' and 'honour' of having a meeting with a 'famous' and 'highly connected' advocate. It was some property matter and a group of five of us had gone to meet him. The twenty minutes I spent there, inside his cabin, confirmed the folklore: what a busy man he was! He spoke on his four mobile phones and the board land line, simultaneously, as he discussed our case! Along with this, he also drank his tea, and dictated a great deal of notes to his Secretary!
"How can he focus on any thing like this?" I asked one of my friends later. "I found it difficult to open my mouth, thinking that I might distract him while talking on his phones. But, still, he kept prompting us 'Go on' ... 'Continue' ... 'I am listening'... God alone knows, what he 'listened' - and, what he registered in his mind - when we spoke to us."
"Arey yaar, they are incredible multi-taskers. You can't open your mouth when the other person is talking to some one. You know, these guys, can't open their mouths if a dozen people don't talk to them simultaneously. Didn't you hear him say, so proudly: 'You people don't get sleep, when there is tension; I don't get sleep, when there is no tension'?"
Ooph!
My friends, despite of my reservations, went by this 'big-fat-fellow's' clout and his sweet nothings. Eighty thousand went down the drain! But, no complaints. The sheep has to trust the butcher, you see!
The case is still not over for my friends!
Which home did you come from? Who were your parents, your grand parents?
Which school and which college did you come from? Who were your teachers?
Which village and which country do you come from? Who are your fellow citizens?
Which faith do you belong? Who are your deities and priests?
And, why do I ask you this?
Because, one of you must be so restless to provide your child with such a 'superior', such a 'world-class' education, that I am afraid, you may 'upgrade' his school half-a-dozen times, before he comes out of the high school!
It is time, we 'upgraded' our herd mentality ... and settle for a 'fine brand'.
GERALD D'CUNHA
"Thank you," I acknowledged his compliment.
"Where did you buy it from?" he enquired, feeling the leather with his hand.
"The roadside," I informed.
"Be serious," he checked the buckle.
"I am. I bought it ten years ago, and I use it daily," I added.
"And, how much did you pay for it?" he was still not ready to believe me.
"Sixty bucks."
Nodding his head in disbelief, he pulled his belt out. "Look at this. I bought it from a famous store for four hundred. It is supposed to be a 'fine Italian leather'! ... And, look at its state ... Not even a year; and, I don't use it every day ..." he said.
"I have experienced it countless times," I sympathised holding his Italian stuff which was in tatters. "I have three 'branded' belts at home, not even two year-old. I am afraid to use them even once a week, leave alone daily."
The rest of our discussion centered around this peculiar obsession of mankind, named: BRAND CONSCIOUSNESS.
"Pritesh, my son, used to take tuitions from a local tutor till he completed his ninth. He was doing extremely well. Still, for his tenth standard, my wife was unwilling to risk his future in this local tutor's hands. 'It is Boards! He has to go to the best coaching class.' she would scream at me. And, we spent a bomb on fulfilling that desire." A parent narrated this to me.
Pritesh secured a princely 65% in his 'Boards', and joined a local commerce college!
I know another man. He is the height of brand consciousness. He stays in the same flat for the past twenty years, and drives the same car for the past five years. Possibly, he can't keep discarding them, because he can not afford. Still, when it comes to his hair-cutting, his shoes and sunglasses, even his doctors and tailors, he is obsessed with the 'best brands'. He would harp about a particular cardiologist. "Do you know this: You can't get an appointment with him for the next fifteen days. He charges two thousand for the first visit, and one thousand for the subsequent ones." The saloon he visits, the tailor he frequents, and even the Guruji his family follows ... oh! all of them are 'the top class' and nothing less than that.
And, mind you, two thousand for ten minutes; maybe, twenty, at the most!
But, this man has no complaints. For, he considers it as his 'privilege' and 'honour' to be under such a great man's care!
The other day, my friend, Manjeet, bumped into some one - whom both of us know - in the Income tax office. Manjeet is an accounting professional, and he has consciously kept his show small. He likes to work at his own pace, and on his own terms. So, at the IT office, when the other guy looked panicked and lost, Manjeet tried to ease out his tension. After a while, when they were in the canteen, the other fellow boasted about his CA, "He is a big name; he has thirty people working under him."
"That's really great, my friend. Tell me, if so, why hasn't he sent one of those 'thirty' to this office, today? Why has he given you this stress?" Unlike me, Manjeet can coolly 'fix' people - where they belong!
"Today is the last day, you see; they are extremely busy," the faithful gave the reason.
My illiterate mother used to tell us in our village: "In the slaughter house, the sheep will trust none, except the butcher. Yes, it will offer its neck only to him, and so faithfully!"
Some months ago, I had this great 'privilege' and 'honour' of having a meeting with a 'famous' and 'highly connected' advocate. It was some property matter and a group of five of us had gone to meet him. The twenty minutes I spent there, inside his cabin, confirmed the folklore: what a busy man he was! He spoke on his four mobile phones and the board land line, simultaneously, as he discussed our case! Along with this, he also drank his tea, and dictated a great deal of notes to his Secretary!
"How can he focus on any thing like this?" I asked one of my friends later. "I found it difficult to open my mouth, thinking that I might distract him while talking on his phones. But, still, he kept prompting us 'Go on' ... 'Continue' ... 'I am listening'... God alone knows, what he 'listened' - and, what he registered in his mind - when we spoke to us."
"Arey yaar, they are incredible multi-taskers. You can't open your mouth when the other person is talking to some one. You know, these guys, can't open their mouths if a dozen people don't talk to them simultaneously. Didn't you hear him say, so proudly: 'You people don't get sleep, when there is tension; I don't get sleep, when there is no tension'?"
Ooph!
My friends, despite of my reservations, went by this 'big-fat-fellow's' clout and his sweet nothings. Eighty thousand went down the drain! But, no complaints. The sheep has to trust the butcher, you see!
The case is still not over for my friends!
Which home did you come from? Who were your parents, your grand parents?
Which school and which college did you come from? Who were your teachers?
Which village and which country do you come from? Who are your fellow citizens?
Which faith do you belong? Who are your deities and priests?
And, why do I ask you this?
Because, one of you must be so restless to provide your child with such a 'superior', such a 'world-class' education, that I am afraid, you may 'upgrade' his school half-a-dozen times, before he comes out of the high school!
It is time, we 'upgraded' our herd mentality ... and settle for a 'fine brand'.
GERALD D'CUNHA
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