Recently a post of our great Amitabh Bacchan went viral about how a British tried to put him down by poking at his unaffordability to buy a 120 pound tie, and how Big B put him in place by asking him to pack 10 of them. Well, on Threads I put my comment and it garnered 1000 likes. Though the number is less by any internet standards but this is the first time I have ever got 1000 likes for just 12 words – hence the blog.
I did my graduation and post graduation in the years between 1992 and 1997, and all through those 5 years my pocket money was kept standard at Rs 150 for a month by my father. If you apply inflation, it would come to Rs 1500 as on 2024 by the simple rule that one egg puff cost Rs 2 then, and today it costs Rs 20. Not that my father could not give me more money, he gave 5 times more to my elder sister – because he trusted her. With me he was always shit scared that while living in a hostel, I might get into doing drugs!!! And from my side, I was too egoistic to ask for more money from him. BTW I never even got to see ganja in those 5 years. We were ‘decent guys’ and stuck to simple things – Kingfisher beer (750 ml), that cost Rs 17 back then.
We were on our way to the bar, and I spotted a porn magazine in one of the ‘potti kadais’ (small kiosks that sell cigarettes, betel leaves, magazines, banana etc). (A special note for the minnenials – we never had mobile phones or the internet those days. Unlike you guys who have seen more nude women than any of the greatest of kings who ever lived on the planet, we could see only 1 or 2 nude women in an entire year i.e., one nude woman per semester; that too if we accidentally get our hands on a porn magazine.
I was plush with funds, I mean Rs 150 in my Rs 20 wallet. I approached the kiosk guy and asked for the magazine’s price. He was in his 40s, presumably dead by now, and he was rude to me. He said, “you cannot afford it.” Motherfucker! I asked him again, “tell me the price.” And I took out my maroon colour leather wallet out.” He replied this time, “Rs 50.” I was just about to throw the 50 bucks – that is 33 per cent of my monthly pocket money – at him, when a wise friend of mine held my hand. “What the fuck are you doing?” He asked. “Motherfucker is telling me I cannot afford this fucking magazine,” I yelled. My good friend dragged me away from the shop and said, “at the age of 40 if someone has been capable of just owning a kiosk in his entire life, you think he is worth proving your ego to?” It rang a bell instantly. I at once put my wallet back in my pocket, gave a dirty look to the shopkeeper who was holding the magazine in his hand in the hope of completing the deal. For Rs 50, we had 1 beer each along with dinner and walked to the hostel at 1 am – it was a free night.
As an adult, I have gotten into shops like Gucci and Louis Vuitton where you are made to stand in a queue and not let in until the previous customer comes out. I am not against luxury brands at all but then when you visit these kind of shops be ready to get humiliated.
I think the salesmen/saleswomen are kind of specially trained to intimidate you – so that you either buy now or leave the place with a feeling of being poor. So that, atleast the next time you visit, you come richer and then buy. Fuck you! I am not shelling a single penny on something just because the fucking salesman intimidated me – a lesson I learnt when I was 17 in the pursuit of seeing a nude woman in a porn magazine.