Overworked, Underpaid and Single

Hi friends! My name is Sachin Bhandary. 

I am an overworked, underpaid, single 27 year old guy.

Not that I am lazy, I have tried to do something about the adjectives that I associate with myself. Especially the ‘underpaid’ one, after every appraisal result, I decide to storm into my boss’s cabin and tell him…

“Listen up Boss, I think I’ve had enough of the 7.012% hike in salary after every appraisal for the last four years. I think I bring a lot of value to the company. A hike of 30% should be just about okay for me to stay back. If you can’t offer that to me, then it is good bye.”

But what I actually manage is…. to meekly knock the cabin door and tell my boss

“Good morning Boss”

“Yes”

“uh……ummmhhh”

“Will you speak up Sachin??”

“I wanted to thank you for the wonderful 7.012% salary post my appraisal. That’s all.”

And that’s the end of my valiant effort to shift way from being ‘underpaid’.

That’s not all….a 27 year old underpaid man in Mumbai doesn’t get pushed only at work. He gets pushed at home (long pause) and in local trains too.

I take a crowded local train filled with sweaty people to get back home. It is so fucking crowded that it would put a Nazi concentration camp to shame.

The advertisements on the walls of the local trains provide some respite though.

These ads try to sell almost anything.

Katrina Kaif claims to use a 12 rupee soap named Dyna and insists that I use it as well. A few minutes of torture is endured imagining the 12 rupee soap being applied on Kat’s million dollar skin.

I mean, I could give her a more expensive soap if she wanted to use my bathroom. Any day.

But there are other ads that have caught my attention too.

One example,

‘Stay-on capsules & spray- let the fun never stop’ ‘Stay on for the whole night’.

‘Stay on for the whole night’- ‘Can you freaking believe that?’

I have made a mental note of it. I intend to use the product as soon as I manage to land myself with a woman.

Then there are ones that I don’t understand at all. Like the one which informs about a clinic which can cure a swollen testicle which apparently is known as ‘andkosh’ in hindi. Even more bewildering is the visual on this advert, they actually show a man with a swelling in his underwear.

I have my doubts whether it is actually his testicles that are swollen. The swelling could be attributed to something else too. Don’t you think?

That’s not all, there are some adverts, telling me:

‘Work with us and make 22000 every month. Don’t worry; we will pay you for three months. But after that if you don’t perform, WE WILL FIRE YOU.’

I wonder if this company actually wants someone to apply for this job.

I reach home every night after enduring this hour long bone crushing train ride.

I reach home to a mother who feels the sole objective of her existence is to get her almost 28 year old son married.

She begins while serving me mounds of boiled rice and ladels of sambar for dinner...

‘Beta, look at your friends, Amit and Deepti, they make such a great couple? Don’t you think you should get married too?’

‘I mean what kind of skewed logic is that, mom. Why should I get married because my friends are a great couple? Am I supposed to compete with them?’

Now this is when, it starts to become dirty…

‘Don’t you think its time? You are 28 and might find a decent girl for yourself if you consider arranged marriage now. Otherwise, once you cross 30, do you think any girl would be interested in you?’

I’ve never understood my mother’s gross underestimation of her son’s chances of getting a girl. I mean, I should continue to remain attractive for woman kind even after a few years with my chiseled features and greek god like looks.

I am sure women reading this piece would agree :)

Once at my mom’s insistence, to help me make up my mind about marriage, I visited a guru called Triple Sri Kavi Shankar who started the movement called ‘Art of Giving’.

My mom knew someone who was close to the guru, so I was called for a private session with the great man.

I told the guru that I hadn’t managed to find a partner in my life and hence wasn’t clear about marriage yet. I also let him know that was the case partly because I believed that there was no such thing as the ‘right girl’. In fact, I believed, that ‘girl’ and ‘right’ are two words which cannot be used in the same sentence.

The long haired, bearded sage, who was serenly calm till now, began…

‘I will sort out your problems. Don’t worry.’

‘Now lets do some pranayamas, okay. Follow my instructions.’

‘Breathe in, breathe out.’

‘Breathe in, breathe out’

‘Turn around. Bend down’

Even in the state of trance, I caught a whiff of what was happening and made a timely escape.

From that day on the ‘art of giving’ has a completely different connotation for me.

But sometimes I thank myself for not having fallen into the marriage trap.

One of my friends, tells me,

Don’t fall for those beautiful eyes, silky voice, the care and the attention man. You will look at your wedding picture five years down the line and wonder ‘why the hell was I smiling?’

Someone rightly said, ‘Bachelors know more about women than married men do. Otherwise they would be married too.’

If that’s not conclusive consider this, Leonardo Da Vinci once said, “Marriage is like putting your hand into a bag of snakes in the hope of pulling out an eel."

So, I continue to remain what I am ‘Overworked, Underpaid and SINGLE’.

Bombay and the state of Maharashtra

Pandit Nehru, India’s first prime minister and M S Golwalkar, the fiery advocate of Hindu nationalism probably mutually supported only on one issue in their political careers. Both these men at the opposite end of the spectrum were vehemently opposed the division of the Indian on basis of language. But Potti Sriramulu’s fast to death led to the creation of Andhra Pradesh for the Telegus and after this creation of states basis the common language was only an eventuality. And in this was stuck, the beautiful island called Bombay, the city of dreams, of commerce, the cosmopolitan melting pot beyond comparision in this part of the world. How did it become the capital of Maharashtra and in fact how did Maharashtra come into being?

Let me tell you a wonderful story that all of us ought to know.

States Reorganization Committee was formed by the government of India to make recommendations into the issue governing the linguistic problem. Between 1954 and 1955 members of the commission travelled across the length and breadth of the country. They visited 104 towns, interviewed 9000 people and received as many as 152250 written submissions.

One of the longer and interesting submissions was by the Bombay Citizens Committee which was headed by cotton magnate Sir Purushottamdas Thakurdas and had within its ranks other industrialists such as JRD Tata and the city’s most successful doctors, lawyers and scholars. The committee had one point agenda, to keep the city of Bombay out of the state of Maharashtra.

The reasons for keeping Bombay out of the state of Maharashtra were several, according to them:

• There was little Maharashtrian immigration to the city before the end of the 19th century. Marathi speakers formed only 43% of the city’s population.

• Bombay’s was important to the economic life of India, it was cosmopolitan and was India’s window to the world. Likewise it was also the world’s window to India. So, it would be incorrect to let Bombay be taken over by one linguistic group. Bombay, said the Bombay Citizens Committee, belonged to the entire country, India.

• Bombay’s physical isolation, with the sea and the mountains separating it from the Marathi speaking heartland meant that it really did not belong to the Maratha heartland

But behind this veneer, hiding in the façade of Bombay’s cosmopolitanism was one language group that dominated the Bombay Citizens Committee, the Gujaratis. Bombay’s integration into the Maharastrian state would mean that politicians and ministers would be Marathi speakers, a prospect which was not pleasing to the Gujarati speaking bourgeois Hindu or Parsee, for obvious reasons. It was they who ran the Bombay Citizens Committee.

But there was someone opposing this committee and fighting for the integration of Bombay into the state of greater Maharashtra. This was the Samyukta Maharashtra Samiti which was for a long time called the Samyukta Maharashtra Parishad. The samiti sought a state that would unite Marathi speakers dispersed across many political units. In their mind, however there was no doubt that this great state of Maharashtra would have only one capital: Bombay.

They presented a document which contested the points made by the submission of Bombay Citizens Committee.

• This state had to be created with Bombay as its capital. Reason being, the land on which the island city stood had long been inhabited by speakers of the Marathi language. The land to the south and the east of the city was dominated by Marathi speakers. The great city itself apart from being cosmopolitan was the centre of Marathi culture and the press of the language.

• Economically Bombay depended heavily on its Marathi hinterland from where it drew its labour, water and power.

• About the point on the absence of a Marathi speaking majority, the document pointed out in Burma’s capital only 32% of the populace spoke the national language but no one could dare to say that for this reason Rangoon could not be a part or the capital of the Burmese state. It said that it was in the nature of great port cities such as Bombay and Rangoon to be multilingual.

Where was this headed? Was there a resolution in sight?

Bombay Citizens Committee was ready to compromise and implement the idea of a bilingual Bombay state with both Marathi and Gujarati speakers. 

The States Reorganization Committee recommended that Bombay stay out of the state of Maharastra and become an independent bilingual province of Gujarati and Marathi speakers. This obviously did not go down well with supporters of the cause of the state of Maharashtra. The fight was now played out in the parliament. Gadgil, an eminent MP from Pune, warned that now the matter will be shifted from the chamber to the streets. The warning came true. Prominent communist S A Dange and Dr. Ambedkar put their weight behind Samyukta Maharshtra Samiti. These along with the Jana Sangh and the Socialist party and the dissidents in the Congress party formed a formidable force fighting for Bombay’s inclusion in Maharashtra.

Arrests, strikes, riots followed in Bombay. Effigies of Nehru and the Gujarati speaking Chief Minister of Bombay, Morarji Desai were burnt. Some said, the police over-reacted and the violence unleashed by them was on a scale that would make ex-British officials in England blush. In these days, dozens died and property worth billions of rupees was destroyed. It was the worst riot in the living memory.

The slogan on every Maharashtrian’s lips was ‘Lathi goli khayenge, phir bhi Bambai layenge’. Samyukta Maharashtra people organized a petition signed by 100,000 children with the slogan ‘Chacha Nehru, Mumbai Dya’ (Uncle Nehru, Give us Bombay). 

The centre had to relent and in 1956 a bilingual State of Bombay Presidency consisting speakers of both Marathi and Gujarati came into being. The concession for Marathi speakers was the replacement of Morarji Desai with the Marathi speaking Y B Chavan as the chief minister.

But the fight was far from over, the dream of having a separate state of Maharashtra with Bombay as its capital took four more years to come to fruition. It was on 1st May 1960 that the State of Bombay Presidency was spilt into the twin states of Gujarat and Maharashtra. Y B Chavan was the first chief minister of the state of Maharashtra. 

That’s how my friends, most of us came to be known as Maharashtrian, either by nativity or by naturalization.

Jai hind! Jai Maharashtra!

Adventure begins even before the trip does….

Everything had gone well. I bid adieu to my relatives, friends, colleagues, neighbours and my mother. It was perfect and i could not have asked for more. I stepped at the Air France check-in counter at the airport. I was taking the flight to Paris and then a connecting flight to Rio De Janeiro, my final destination.

The airline representative went through my passport over and over again. I sensed something wasn´t right. On enquiring, he threw a flurry of questions at me. Where are you travelling to? Do you have a Schengen or an Airport transit visa for Paris? Do you have a visa to any other country like the US, UK, etc?

I was not too sure what to make of it and i told him that i only had a visa for Brazil and Argentina. He then started talking to his senior- a bald, dark, affable looking man who talked to me in the sweetest yet most matter of fact tone.

He said, ¨ Indian passport holders need a valid Schengen visa or at least an airport transit visa even to take a connecting flight from any airport in Europe. If you do not have this then at least you must have a valid visa to any of the countries such as UK, US or any country in Europe. Your passport has none. So, i am sorry you cannot fly tonight.¨

It was as if someone was playing a dirty joke on me and i could not believe this was happening to me. It seemed like a nightmare. I tried talking but there was no way out. I would have to skip this flight and apply for a French airport transit visa. After the visa was procured i would have to take the next available flight after paying a penalty. All this could take multiple days and i could not wait that long. I had a friend who was all alone waiting for me in Rio.

All this because my travel agent had told me that i do not need a visa in Paris. I had applied and procured all the other visas on my own.

After a frustrated few hours at the airport i made my way back home not knowing how to react to this entire situation. But i had to prepare myself for the herculean task of procuring the visa at the earliest and then trying to get on the next available flight.

My friend Marie, with whom i was to travel was sure that i would take many days to reach Rio De Janeiro, the city where we were supposed to meet and start our trip. Since she was already in Rio, she started comtemplating travelling to Argentina and meeting me there whenever i reach. This is not what i wanted. I wanted us to be toghether from Rio itself.

The next day would be one of the most memorable days of my life. Friends, Clients or rather clients who are friends got together to do everything they could to get me my visa and then the next possible flight.

This was one day i appreciated all that i had in life- my job, my friends and the support from my mother and family. Thanks to my job i was called directly for an interview at the French consulate at ´Hoechst House´in Nariman Point. One of my long standing clients had used her good contacts to get me through without having to go through the long procedure of submitting documents and waiting for an appointment. So what would normally take a few hours was achieved for me in a matter of few hours. I was called for an interview at 4.30 in the evening and i walked away with the visa in a couple of hours.

Also, unexpectedly it was not just an airport transit visa but a proper Schengen transit visa which allowed me to travel through France or other European states for five days everytime i was in transit for the next three months.

But that was not the end of my ordeal. Parallelly, there was another story developing. All Air France flights to Paris over the next few days were overbooked. The only available tickets were too expensive for me to afford.


Just like with the visa with the flight too it was a friendo working with Air France who came to the rescue. Actually, it was a friendo of a friendo, who suggested i take a chance by going to the airport that night. In the hope that some of the booked ticket holders wouldnt show up allowing me to get to Paris on that night´s flight. He had also spoken to the Air France staff at the airport about me who had promised to do everything to help me.


So, i left my house at 10.30pm for a flight at 2.45am not knowing whether i would be allowed to take it or not. Also, if i did get on the flight i would have to spend the entire day in Paris alter landing as the morning flight to Rio had been cancelled and the flight alter that was at 11.30pm(Paris time). That was least of my problems. In fact visiting Paris would have been like a dream after this nightmare.

So there i was at the airport next to the Air France counter spending one anxious minute after another, praying that enough people would find a reason not to the take the Air France flight to Paris that night. That was the only way i could be on my way to Paris 24 hours later than planned. I spoke to a charming Air France supervisor named Ralph at 1.20am about whether he thought i could get on the flight. He replied, ¨It looks good as of now but it is very close. Just pray that no one else turns up.¨ The Check in counter was to be closed at 1.45am exactly an hour before the flight´s scheduled take off.

My wait was marked by the nervous paces across the check in counters and if there was ever a time that i prayed my heart out, this was it. And then the moment arrived, it was 1.45am and Ralph instructed all his colleagues to close their counters and he yelled, ¨Sachin, come on, you are flying to Paris tonight!¨.

My joy knew no bounds. I punched the air and thanked everyone who was close to me and helped me get on the flight after i recieved the shocker of a news.

As i made my way to the immigration and then to flight, i realised that the trip had probably taught me the most important lesson even before it had started. That if you want something really badly, you can get it. Even if it seems impossible.

I said to myself, ¨South America, here i come!!!!¨.


You can view slide show of some pictures from the trip till now here at( cant place them directly on the blog for some reason):

here

Dont tell me i am going to South America!!!

When does someone have such a stupid toothy grin???

Either when life's gone so wrong that all you can do is laugh about it like a maniac or when you actually realise that one of your dreams is about to come true. In my case, thankfully so, the grin is due to the latter reason.

Friends, i am off to South America. Precisely to Brazil, Argentina and Bolivia. Can you believe it???? I can't.

I will take a flight to Paris on 19th January 2010, Tuesday morning at 2.45am and then get on to another flight which will land me at 'River of January'  or Rio De Janeiro, the Brasilian city famous for its music, cafes, food, night life, the carnival and of course, the women!!!

I will be on the road for a month and a half and the trip will take me through the heart of Latin America. We will pass through cities such as Rio in Brazil to Iguatzu waterfalls, Salta, Cordoba, Buenos Aires in Argentina and there on to spend three weeks in the small towns of Bolivia. This promises to be a journey of a lifetime!

I want to thank one and all who helped me make this possible. People who need to be thanked would know that they are being referred to.

So, friends lets go on a trip together as i will try to share my experiences in the most interesting way possible. Food, Architecture, Fun, Parties( if i am invited to any), Dance, Treks, Beaches, Culture and History- this blog will try to bring as much as possible.

Keep visiting this blog once in a while to see whats happening on the other side of the globe. And yes, leave your comments.

Até mais!( 'see you then' in Portuguese)

Sachin, the Spaniard(for the next month and a half)