Trust me, nobody loves a friend
or relative in our times; our digital minds in 2019 timelines have narrowed
down to “ME, My Wife, and my Children.” And in my case: I, me, myself. But
respect is a very important thing, I explore what it means to have earned
respect or notoriety in this post.
Dr.
Kiruba is a dentist and I have been his patient for a decade now. Each time I
am on the dental chair we have a nice banter; he is a FB friend and he does
read these blog posts once in a while. He treats me with a lot of respect;
showers free medicines and mouthwashes after consultations that the medical
representatives leave him with as samples. As for me, I like this flow of bonhomie
and any time I visit his clinic, it feels like re-connecting with a long lost friend which
does my poor ego a lot of good. Like the good doctor, these days I earn the respect of my fellow
beings from the vegetable grocer, waiters at Vishranti, regular beach-goers and generally wherever I frequent. I have long realized that words and
even body language don’t endear one to the rest of the world as much as an
ability to trigger good vibes – a simple smile and few words of assurance is
more than good enough if you know how to add a listening component to it.
There
were two incidents last week that got me feeling great. I sent “Happy
Saraswati puja” greetings to a dozen friends on Whatsapp. One fellow blogger
from Rediffiland wrote: Thanks for the wishes, Goddess Saraswati has blessed
you in abundance. The next day I was
chatting with my cook as the conversation veered towards how I employed Meera,
as I reminisced, “First she never wanted to work for a bachelor. I had to cajole
her saying that I will keep the pressure cooker with rice and dhal and all she
had to do was 20 min of work. But once she understood me, she was the first to
pay me a compliment that she felt totally secure and safe working for me.”
Thangam is a woman of few words as she spontaneously said, “Anyone who doubts
your character must be a sick person.”
Let’s
see how lack of respect works. My house-owner is a Sindhi woman who has 8 houses
in the city for rental incomes. The house I am staying resembles more a candle
palace that Duryodhana conjured for the Pandavas – the roof leaks to rains, the
tiles are 4 decades old, the doors are fragile flimsy. Everyone from the street
vendor to the laundry man to the milk maid told me when I shifted from M90 to
M91: My god, it’s a pothole of a house and terrible miserly house-owners. All of
them cannot resist this byline: they are Sindhis and what better can you
expect?? Within three months I realized that I was sold a dummy. I made a
spare-key for my cook which costed me Rs. 500. I vacate this premise next month
and do you know what I will do with the spare key? I will just wash it down the
flush or fling it from the terrace; even if I had a barely handshaking relation
I would have volunteered this key to the owners. This is what disrespect is –
they don’t get anything friendly from me.
Again
for the opposite: I sold M90 to Mr. Pandian who is one of my most reliable of
friends. I called him today saying, “Sir, I am planning to buy an apartment in Palavakkam.
But before signing the deal I want you to take a look and advise me since
you are a lot smarter.” He said, “Sathya, I am in Guwahati now, back to
Chennai on Sunday. Meet the builder and negotiate but don’t sign on till I give
you an approval. We will go to the premise on Wednesday.”
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