I pass through this very intersection every morning with so much ease. Today, thepace is skewed. There is a sense of disarray as motorists try to push past each otherthrough the traffic light. The light here always tests their agility because if you missthe green, you have to wait for another three minutes before it lets you go pastagain. Those three minutes become eternity for an otherwise time-insensitive nationon the move. Today, there is a sense of chaos here. People are honking, skirting each other and rushing past. I look out of my windowto seek the reason. It is not difficult to find because it is lying strewn all overthe place. A tomato seller's cart has overturned. There aretomatoes everywhere and the rushing motorists are making pulp of it. The man istrying to get his cart back on its four rickety wheels and a few passersby are picking upwhat they can in an attempt to save him total loss. Though symbolic in the largerscheme of things, it is not a substantive gesture. His business for the day is over. The way this man's economics works is very simple. There is a money lender wholends him money for just one day, at an interest rate of Rs 10 per day per Rs 100lent. With the money, he wakes up at 4 am to go to the wholesale market forvegetables. He returns, pushing his cart a good five miles, and by 7 am when thelocality wakes up, he is ready to sell his day's merchandise. By the end of themorning, some of it remains unsold. This his wife sells by the afternoon and takeshome the remainder, which becomes part of his meal. With the day's proceeds, he returns the interest to the money lender and goes backto the routine the next day. If he does not sell for a day, his chain breaks.Where does he go from here? He goes back to the money lender, raises capital atan even more penal interest and gets back on his feet.
This is not the only time that destiny has upset his tomato cart. This happens to himat least six times every year. Once he returned with a loaded cart of ripe tomatoesand it rained heavily for the next three days. No one came to the market and hisstock rotted in front of his own eyes. Another time, instead of the weather, it was apolitical rally that snowballed into a confrontation between two rival groups and thelocality closed down. And he is not alone in this game of extraneous factors thatseize not only his business but also his life. He sees this happen to the "gol-gappa"seller, the peanut seller and the "vada pao" seller all the time. When their productdoes not sell, it just turns soggy.
Sometimes they eat some of it. But how much of that stuff can you eat by yourself?So, they just give away some and there is always that one time when they have tosimply throw it away. Away from the street-vendor selling perishablecommodity with little or no life support system, the corporate world is an altogetherdifferent place.
Here we have some of the most educated people in the country. Wedon the best garbs. We do not have to push carts; our carts push us. We have oursalary, perquisites, bonuses, stock options, gratuities, pensions and our medicalinsurance and the group accident benefit schemes.
Yet, all the while, we worry about our risks and think about our professional insecurity. We wonder, what would happen if the company shifted offices to another city? What would happen if the department closed down? What would happen if you were to take maternity leave andthe temporary substitute delivered better work than you did? What would happenif the product line you are dealing with simply failed? In any of thoseeventualities, the worst that could happen would still be a lot less than having to see yourcartful of tomatoes getting pulped under the screeching wheels of absolute strangers whohave nothing personal against you.
All too often we exaggerate our risks. We keep justifying our professional concernstill they trap us in their vicious downward spiral. Devoid of education, sophisticatedreasoning and any financial safety net, the man with the cart is often able to dealwith life much better than many of us. Is it time to look out of the window, into theeyes of that man to ask him, where does he get it from? In his simple stoicism, isprobably, our lost resilience.
Labels: BY SUBROTO BAGCHI
