Business

I remember certain memories from my childhood rather vividly, one where my biggest victory was in finding means to avoid studies, spending afternoons on the terrace counting colourful kites, cycling into lanes and by-lanes, playing cricket with cousins and breaking numerous window-panes (and being thrashed by mother thereafter), participating in quizzes just to get out of my girls' school and meet the Don Bosco and VKV boys, have  Re 1/- Tasty ice-candies'; sneaking into the kitchen at midnight to sketch on pumpkins, gourds and eggs weird expressions in an attempt to scare my mother, the next morning! And, waiting for the weekend to travel one hour on super-fast buses to the other town to meet grandma (for the first hour) and sit (like a princess for the rest) in my uncle's shop, on a wooden bar-stool kind of seat of honour.

While at my uncle's stop (fancily named "Three Leaves" but renowned as "Babul Da'r Dukaan" [in Assamese]), it would fascinate me to observe the variety of small talks customers would have with my uncle, or his assistant. Once they left, I would urge them to tell me more about the customer. My favorite thing in the shop was not the glassed-Cabdury box, nor the variously sized jars holding various candies. They were the many-sized brown paper bags upon which I would unendingly doodle as I listened to the conversations. Yes, they were my formative years in gathering gossip, amidst learning how to pack tea (he was also a tea wholesaler), and expertly opening caps of Gold Spot, Thums Up, Limca. The giggling girls of Womens' College would crowd at our shop for their daily quota of drinks. I think it gave them a high to have a drink at the college Librarian's husband's shop. His shop was the smallest on that road, but the busiest, and in retrospect, I conclude it was because he has been a great conversationalist. That impressed me too. From my mother side of business, shoes are their specialization, and I used to be engrossed in watching the sales-guys pulling out exactly the pair from the dark and mysterious godown behind the well-lit showroom (another fancy name "Half & Half"). As I kept cash here, I could not understand the maths of profit, and remained fixated at how happy and content a customer would leave with a new pair!

While academics happened to me, I would love to believe that business runs in my blood. No, I am not good at bargaining with vendors (primarily because I respect them way too much, literally putting myself in their shoes), nor am I good at calculations.Yet, I think I do have a certain art of negotiation needed for the most democratic act of conducting business. It is my dream, and now in spite of my degrees, my aim is to own an all-purpose store where customer is god. S/he isn't discriminated on the basis of religion, caste, nationality, gender and/or hierarchy.

With over a dozen years in the service industry, the being answerable part is extremely demanding. In shops, people come, ask, take goods, pay money, leave. Additionally, for the writer in me, they'd bring in as many stories :) If you disbelieve my story, this photo below is from one lunch break at my last office. I never smiled this bright during my tenure there.

Alas, good results ruined my life.