April 8th, 2008

Let Me Introduce You To Some of My Less Fortunate Selves

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I have many virtues, but modesty isn’t one of them.

I’m not at all apologetic about being smart or successful because I have had to fight against, and overcome, great odds to become who I am.

So, before you judge me for being far too fortunate, let me introduce you to some of my less fortunate selves.

You have already met the fat, ugly, awkward twelve year old boy I once was. I studied in a Hindi-medium government school in Patna, read Chacha Choudhary comic books in Hindi, and struggled to put together one coherent sentence in English. I wore thick glasses in a cheap plastic frame, hand-me-down ill-fitting too-short shorts, and white-and-blue rubber slippers from Bata. I watched Chitrahaar on Doordarshan and third grade Hindi movies on a black and white TV with my parents and half a dozen neighbors. I sucked at sports, stammered when I spoke to girls and was endlessly bullied by my classmates for being the teachers’ favorite. Even today, I feel jealous when a precocious twelve year old tells me about growing up with his parents’ collection of Hollywood classics or sixties jazz, because I grew up with nothing at all.

Patna is a terrible place for a teenager, and I never really had my teenage years. I wore my father’s old shirts over cheap terry cotton trousers and rode a dhoodhwalla type black Atlas cycle to intermediate college. I had rather strict parents, who considered it their duty to shield their studious son from all distractions, so there was a scene every time a girl called me at home. I had almost no pocket money to pay for a date, and you couldn’t really go out on a date in Patna, in any case, so it isn’t really surprising that I hadn’t even held a girl’s hand (in that way) until I was seventeen.

I survived three years of graduation in Delhi on Rs. 3000 per month ($60 then) and that included rent, food, travel, clothes, books, and long distance telephone calls to my girlfriend. Delhi is not particularly nice to those who can’t pay to partake in its pleasures, and those years were perhaps the worst years of my life. I lived in a PG accommodation close to the slums of Shahadra, watched movies at Shakuntalam Theater for Rs. 6, and bought second hand books for Rs. 10 each from the second hand book market at Daryaganj every Sunday. At the beginning of my third year, my girlfriend of three years asked me if I had thought about how I’ll feed her, before breaking up with me.

Even last year, after two years at an IIM and five years of earning and spending more money than I had ever thought possible, I felt a sense of deja vu when my girlfriend asked me if I had thought about where I’ll keep her, before breaking up with me.

So, I know firsthand that it isn’t easy, or nice, to have less money than you need. I have been there myself and I have seen what it does to people and to relationships.

I also know that you, and only you, can define what is enough for you.

So, after six years of buying too many things to make up for not having enough for twenty odd years, I have decided that I finally have enough more than enough.

Which is why, when my IIM batch mates are buying their first BMWs, I have decided to stop buying things, and become the marketer who went off consumption.

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April 8th, 2008 | Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged with , , , , , , , , , , |

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