It was only 6:15 PM, and guests were still arriving in their Jaguars and Audis and Toyotas. As with any public function in India, one must always reach the place at least an hour after the prescribed time. Only then can the husband tell the others present about how busy he was with his clients from Germany and his wife also gets the perfect opportunity to display her newly purchased sari from Ritu Kumar for everyone else to ogle while they are seated. Just the good old struggle of climbing the social ladder at its subtlest best.
While having a sip of a small peg of Black Label, the doctor saw Mr Paul, his big frame wobbling side-to-side as he rushed towards the poolside bar. Dressed in his usual half-sleeve liberty cut silk shirt and white dhoti, he was the kind of person whom you would expect to own rubber plantations in Kottayam or run spices exports in Mattanchery. Yet, Mr. Paul was involved in the generic business of textiles. He was a garments wholesaler, that too one of the biggest in Kerala. He was also closely tied to the St Thomas Christian Church, one of the most socially and economically powerful religious groups in this state and at least 10% of his income went into charities, especially religious ones. Mr Paul was also a big benefactor of the doctor's own charity, one run for subsidizing and performing operations of the eye for the poor and the downtrodden. Or so they say, since just after he was honored by the government, both he and the doctor decided to sack Mr Gokul, the lead administrator of the charity with many years of experience under his belt, but was deemed too 'expensive' and 'unnecessary' to maintain now.
Panting lightly, Paul exclaimed, "Good evening Doctor! Sorry for being a bit late, had some trouble with traffic......Nice view here isn't it?" The view was indeed majestic for the pool directly faced the Sun, setting in the Arabian Sea. The evening breeze felt as if God himself had tuned the weather conditions for the perfect outdoor party. The doctor could see that the stage was set for him and other illuminaries, which included a local Member of Parliament, a Member of Legislative Assembly and the city's Mayor. Out of the corner of his eye, he could also see his wife, dressed in a golden cream silk saree, being surrounded by other wives and fiances of the top businessmen and professionals of the city. Her eyes sparkled from the distance, and the doctor could sense that she already felt like the consort of Ramesses the II. Just then, Mr Paul, after ordering for some Sauvignon Blanc, quipped: "The Archbishop is quite grateful for that donation of ours for the construction of the prayer centre in Koratty. I mean, it's not as if we had choice really. He phoned up the big guns in Delhi to get you the honor right?" That was indeed true, for it was more his specific connection with the Bishops and Archbishops that got him the necessary openings in the capital city. Which political group would not want to upset the religious figures anyway, for their sway over the minds of the people could determine the electoral outcomes of the states, and thereby, at the center. The doctor knew he had the right people in his fingertips.
The evening's proceedings unfolded as usual. A series of pious homilies and conventional platitudes flowed from the dias like water from a fountain; steady, calm and predictable. Mr Paul specifically, took the opportunity talk about his own contributions to the doctor's charitable organization and it's many achievements. After the obligatory exchange of handshakes, bouquets and social graces, the gathering was announced to proceed to the grand buffet, diagonally opposite to the pool, and next to the seafood restaurant, mostly populated by Dutch and Portuguese tourists. Here, the doctor also interacted with a few of the children, who asked him for advice and wisdom, which he was only too eager and willing to share. After finishing off his main course, the doctor checked his watch; it was only 9:10 PM, and there was still some time for the entertainment programs and dance to begin. He was pretty sure that the whole thing would go past midnight, and the evening itself had been quite overwhelming for him, so he decided to take a little break from the maddening crowd. With another peg of Black Label in his hand, the doctor decided to relax on one of the park benches facing the sea, just for a while. There, he chanced upon meeting one of his friend's sons, one by the name Siddharth. He had only met this fellow once, before he went off to some far off place for his graduation, and the doctor thought it would be polite of him to ask Sidharth about his whereabouts and the rest.
"Sidharth! How nice to see you. We met around 3 or 4 years ago right?" And as the doctor sat down with his drink, Sidharth looked up from his bowl of Greek Salad, where all his focus seemed to be, politely smiled and nodded, and then went back to eating. The doctor could not quite articulate what he felt upon meeting this man; it was not rudeness or conceitedness but a strange sense of intensity.Almost automatically, the doctor asked, "So, what was your degree in?" Sidharth seemed to have all of time on his side, as he rolled over his tongue towards his right cheek to gnaw at some feta cheese stuck between his molars. Then, once he seemed to have completed the task, he looked sidewards into the doctor's eyes and said, "my degree was in Economics and Finance and I've done a chunk of History in my undergraduate studies. I also like Philosophy, Mathematics, Sciences, Poetry and all things Art........mmmmm basically I take an interest in knowing and knowing about knowing, both the abstract and the real." 'Such a long answer for such a short question', thought the doctor and with a little chuckle on the inside he wondered how this fellow was all over the place, with no real focus or a sense of purpose. Or did he have one? He decided to investigate more. "So now you have joined your father's business haven't you? Is your undergraduate studies helping you with your career?" The reply came almost instantaneously. "No, not really. I mean, most of my subjects were in Finance, History and Economics, none of which have direct relevance to my work in retail. I read the Harvard Business Review just to get a grasp of some general theoretical frameworks and latest research in business studies which I could possibly apply in my work-life. Anyway, I don't really believe that business education is a sufficient condition for being a good business man." This was the opposite to what the doctor had been hearing all the time. His friends who were involved in business ensured that their sons received a top class MBA or any MBA for that matter, in the hope to turn their family businesses to multi-national empires like Tata or Wal-Mart. And here was this fellow, sitting with his Greek Salad, dismissing the almighty MBA! It hadn't actually come out of his mouth but it was again worth checking out. The doctor asked, "So you don't plan to do an MBA do you?" Again, without hesitation, Sidharth said, "No, not at all. In fact, I would like to call it 'More Bad Advice'. It might help me network and get future employees but I don't see much potential in it. So, no. In fact, I'm thinking of doing an M.A in Economics here somewhere locally, while doing business, and then maybe an M.Phil in Intellectual History if I can get into some really good university, and then go back to doing other things". Puzzled and almost exasperated, the doctor finally asked, "You don't really have any ambition, do you Sidharth?"
The last bits of capsicum still stuck on to the bowl like leeches and Sidharth did not bother to finish it off, like he usually does. But the final question caught him unawares and he decided it was time to do away the salad and focus his mind on this rather inquisitive chap sitting next to him. With an earnest look Sidharth quipped, "No uncle, I am quite ambitious. Maybe not in your sense of the word........but I.......I want to suck out all the marrow of life." 'What the hell is this guy on about?', thought the doctor. "You mean, you just want to enjoy life?" There was a moment of silence, for these questions required some time to articulate. "Well, yes and no. I like to think of life as a kind of miracle in this vast cosmos of matter and void; a 'thermodynamic miracle' if you will, as some author put it. So.......the way I think of life is to engage in a range of experiences, many forced upon me by the reigns of chance, and many capable of experiencing by my free will. And given my limited time as a conscious being, at least as far as I can ascertain with my rather scientific world view, I would like to live a life, rich in experiences, both in depth and variety. So it is for this reason, I would like to exercise my faculties in various areas; as a historian one day, maybe a sociologist the next day, and a philosopher and a lover another day....do you get what I am saying?" The doctor still seemed puzzled and asked, "Oh so you want to be a polymath, like Leonardo Di Vinci? Even if you don't, wouldn't it be better if you strove to leave a mark on this Earth? Like say, find the cure for cancer or create a company like Steve Jobs did?" Again, with some hesitation, Sidharth answered with a negative. He said, "It does not matter how I am labelled, as long as the journey proves to be interesting and colourful. Look at Napoleon...Europe was at his feet and where is he now? In heaven, looking down and smiling at how he is still one of the most discussed and popular men to grace the face of the Earth? Or has he become dust and become one with the very sand that probably gave birth to him, missing out on leading a rich life by falling at the feet of petty ideals and false values? Tell me."
It should be noted that the time was almost 9:30 PM, and the speakers blared forth with the cacophony of 'Sheila Ki Jawani', with all the little kids and young couples moving on to the mini dance floor the organizers were kind enough to put up. Mrs Doctor was frantically searching for her better half, as the disco balls needed to shine on the man of the moment, at least for some time just to give the man his due consideration, before the mating behaviour of the group kicked into fourth gear as the night went on. However, the doctor, at this moment was torn between the intense conversation and the appeal of the dance floor. It was a good thing that he was hidden from their view in the dark in this bench because he felt that it was almost his spiritual destiny to give this seemingly confused guy some advice before he left. So the doctor said, "Look here Sidharth. It seems like you are going through a phase now when you are confused about life and everything in it. My suggestion is, set a goal, and work for it. Like me. See, I set a goal, and every single morning, I woke up and I pursued my dream. Now, I am successful, I have the appreciation and respect of the society and even the Government. What you are saying...well...it seems to me like a lot of fluff. I mean, I don't know how you are going to live without a structure to guide your life. And from this conversation, I think you don't even believe in God, which is going to make your life even worse. So, just give it some time and hopefully you will get over this phase...anyway, it was interesting to have this nice deep interlude in this hectic night. It was nice talking to you Sidharth...we should have a chat the next time we see each other as well!".
With that, and a quick hand-shake, the doctor left Sidharth in his park bench, and began walking towards the dance floor in the middle of the lawn. And while in his stride, he quickly thought of his own son. Well groomed, well planned and well on the path to achieve success, just like him. The doctor's son was already the topper in third year med-school, and he also boasted internships in the World Health Organization, Amnesty International and had worked as a junior project officer in the National Rural Health Commission. He already has set targets to become a specialist in cardiothoracic surgery, probably in Johns Hopkins Medical School. To say the least, these thoughts made his chest swell with pride and he took comfort in the fact that his son was not a batshit crazy hipster on acid. And, as he approached the herd of dancing animals, they made way for the star to pull off his moves on this well deserved felicitation, and he blended in with the crowd, swaying to the noise of 'It's the time to disco'.
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1 comment:
All I can think about is the salad...
still reading real world economics / Austrian eonomics?
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