What you do for a living?

I was on a short trip in connection with some academic work. It happened to be a town on the seashore and quite accidentally I stumbled upon a cottage on the shore at throwaway rent. Listening to the waves humming and crashing alternately just about 100 ft from your feet throughout the night is a spiritual experience. I had a blissful three day/nights and came back totally revived. But that is not what I was about to say.

Here was the 'owner' of the cottage - a man who controlled cable TV operations in that area, undertook contracts for civil works and in his own words 'dabbled in politics for safety'. An extra ordinary (please do not read as extraordinary) chap who could easily be missed in a lonely street!! He rides a cycle for commitments nearby, a weather beaten motorcycle everywhere else and owns three cars. Usually wears a plain white cotton shirt over a well worn pants that could have been purchased anytime after he started wearing pants. He never seeks to sit while talking to you and prefers to stand in a corner with hands folded like a humble domestic help. Incidentally, you do not get such 'humble domestic help' even in India any more!! While describing the local political situation, he displayed his excellent sense of humor - 'if you look up to politicians as great men who will change your destiny, you will only get heart attacks. Look at them as street comedians who have come to entertain you for five years and you will get a life time of laughter'. 'And free', he added for emphasis.

Then what about your political clout? I asked him.

'That is for safety, sir, safety', he laughed. Then asked me as to what do I do for a living.

As a matter of fact, particularly in the recent past, even I haven't thought about such a serious question - what do I do for a living? I became pensive, thinking hard and long as to what do I actually do. He waited patiently, perhaps expecting me to say that the last time the Tsunami struck India, it was me who was readjusting the tactonic plates or some such thing big. After a long wait, I told him that I write.

He looked at me without any expression first. Then he gestured the act of writing on paper with his hand. Looking at me quizzically now, asked, 'you write?'.

I said 'yes'.

'I understand' he said. 'Some people do take a long time to learn to read and worse, to write'. Adding on a consoling tone, he further said, ' do you know that I never bothered? So what if I cannot read or write. I do make a decent living. Nothing to worry, sir, nothing to worry'.

It was my turn to go further blank at his next question. 'So how much do you earn by writing?'

'Well, ok, that a few friends manage to read what I write and hopefully like it (for most of them choose not to say anything, perhaps for fear of hurting my fragile mind). It doesn't fetch anything, I tell you. I just get along by God's grace', I told him.

He shook his head in sympathy and asked me to pay only half the specified rent for the cottage.

I do not know whether writing pays or not. But I can tell you it can reduce your room rent by half. Have fun, write your heart out...