CONFESSIONS
OF A COMMON
MAN
BY A.V. DHANUSHKODI
THREE
-- India
is Shining
I have often wondered why we, the common
people, condone corruption. We read,
almost every day, of corruption at every level of functioning of our nation,
right from the central ministers down to the sweeper on the street, not
impersonal events far removed from our lives, but events which happen every day
in our own lives, affecting us in so many ways.
Yet, we do not take them seriously.
Possibly, either because we do not recognize them as corrupt practices
or, even if we do identify them as corruption, we brush them aside with a
casual gesture, as common occurrences.
One may call it resignation, resulting from a sense of helplessness. There may be some truth in that interpretation
but, going a step further, I would ascribe that attitude to be rooted in an
awareness, conscious or subconscious, of our own behaviour, corrupt to a
greater or lesser degree. I do not mean
monetary corruption only, I mean by the word
‘corruption’, a broad spectrum of behaviour in every one of
us---business and non-business in nature---crossing the boundaries of legality,
morality, and all norms of social behaviour, which have evolved over
centuries, meant to benefit the largest
number of people.
Being
a common man, I have easy access to a
wide range of goods and services, quite a few of which I use every day. A few months
back I had a need to buy an electric bulb.
I decided to buy an energy saving fluorescent lamp, to contribute my share
in mitigating global warming. In my
locality, there are some five shops, selling electrical goods. I stopped at the first shop on my way to the
main road and told the man there, who looked like the owner of the shop, what I
needed. His face lit up, obviously in
appreciation of my awareness and the laudable intention to confront global
warming, in my small way. He gave me a long lecture on global warming and what we,
every citizen of the world, should be doing to combat the impending global catastrophe. Fortunately for him, there was no other
customer, demanding his attention, as a
result of which, I became his captive audience.
I could not help thinking how he could as well contribute his share, if only he
would stop exhaling all that hot air, warming
the ambience around his shop. I do not
remember how long he took to conclude his lecture, but I do remember that I was standing there
for a very long time and had to give him a standing ovation, when he did finish
his lecture.
Satisfied
that he had indelibly impressed upon me the importance of fighting global
warming, he displayed on the counter, a row of energy saving lamps of
different wattage and different brands. After
subjecting them to a strenuous sifting exercise, enthusiastically aided by the
owner of the shop, I chose one which, I thought, suited my purpose best. I wanted to know the price and he quoted
Rs.100. I told him it was too high a
price to pay for a lamp, but he justified the price, saying that the lamp had a
long life. I asked him, in a light vein,
whether it would outlive me, to which he replied, without hesitation, in an
assertive tone, YES. How long, I probed
further,
seriously. Equally seriously, he
replied, “Three years, at the rate of burning 5.5 hours a day.” The information inherent in his guarantee was
enlightening, if I were to burn at least a little more than 5.5 hours a day. I told him I would take it.
Instead
of packing the lamp immediately, he took a marker out of his shirt pocket and
wrote something on the lamp cap and gave it to me to read. I saw that he had written the name of his
shop and the date of purchase. “What is
this for?” I enquired. “Sir, that is the
replacement guarantee for one year from today”, he replied proudly and added
magnanimously, “If the lamp burns out within a year from now, please bring it
and I will replace it with a new lamp.” His assurance sounded very much like
the ploy of the wicked magician to ferret out the genuine lamp with the genie. I was both surprised and touched. Since when had Indian
business matured into such professionalism?
Then and there I realized that India
was really shining. That moment I was
really proud to be a citizen of India by birth.
Days
and months
passed, with the lamp shining every night, brightly and unfailingly.
Then, one night, it did not. I
tried, with all the expertise and tools at my disposal, to make it burn, but in
vain. Something must be wrong with the
wiring, or the switch, or the fuse, or me, but not the lamp, I was sure. How could the lamp burn out within a few months? Impossible even to imagine. I had the
guarantee of the manufacturer and the shop-owner that the lamp would outlast me, but the
unbelievable opposite had happened. Finally, when all my efforts at reviving the
dead lamp had failed, I decided, very, very reluctantly, to take it to the shop
for replacement.
When
I turned the lamp gently out of the holder and looked at the cap, I received a
rude shock, not electric but mental.
There was no writing on the cap!
The written guarantee had vanished within months.
The shop-owner had used impermanent
ink! I took a deep breath and wondered how I could convince the shop-owner
that I bought that lamp from him, merely a few months ago.
I was sure I would be thrown out, lock, stock, and lamp.
The
next morning, when I appeared at his shop and presented the lamp, he took it
from me and looked at the name of his shop and the date of purchase, which was
just a week before. “Unbelievable!” he
muttered, and growled, “What is wrong?” “It doesn’t burn,” I complained, in the most aggrieved
tone I could muster. Again muttering,
“Unbelievable, unbelievable”, under his breath,
he inserted it in the holder on the wall to test it. The lamp burned brightly!
“Unbelievable,
unbelievable”, I muttered under my breath.
A.V.
Dhanushkodi
November
8, 2010
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