The Demise of Pettiness? Ha!

There was a time when I believed in everything I read: gullibility is inversely proportional to age, or perhaps it's just me. The editorials of my adolescence promised wonders to come; it seemed that we would catapult to a state of being where they'd be wealth, convenience and of course happiness. And so I came to believe, perhaps prodded by the soothsayers, that there will also be a demise of pettiness.

The logic seemed infallible- with wealth, comfort and wisdom (borrowed or not) why would we perpetuate petty thoughts? Isn't pettiness strongly associated with a lack of well-being?

My land was also going through an interesting social dynamic. Joint families were breaking down, matrimonials stepped outside the boundary of caste, community and sometimes even religion. The need to get marriages "arranged" also fell out of fashion. Though nuclear families were pretty common in Kolkata (this is "my land", social relaxations observed in Kolkata are yet to be emulated in other parts of India, including a few metros), the nineties saw the emergence of such a family unit as a dominant force.

Having been exposed to joint families (one cousin's family stuck to the old way) as well as nuclear families (mine), I noticed the remarkable lack of pettiness in the latter. The husband and wife squabble over little things, but such conflicts are more out of either ego tussles, differences in attitudes or opinions, or simply out of boredom. Pettiness as defined by narrow (or flimsy) interests are rare. On the other hand, I watched the strifes of the joint families, which are probably less regular than husband-wife quibbles (or I hope so), and they seemed to emanate from a mindset of pettiness. Characters become caricatures in this race to the bottom.

In my musings, I had ruled out professional lives. Little as I was, the domain of work did not invade my thinking space and hence limited the conclusions I can draw from my ruminations. Today, when I have entered the hallow portals of the "job life", I realise "pettiness" is alive and well. It has manifested itself in newer forms and perhaps become even more vigorous.

Take schadenfreude. If you were to find case examples of the worst kinds of sadists, look no further from the maze of cubicles. Recently, a few people were asked to leave from my firm (officially they resigned- maybe they did, but rumours suggest otherwise). I'll take the case of one particular lady. Though I was not very fond of her (not many were either, as it was alleged she had attitude problems), but if she was asked to leave, then fact is she got a raw deal. But on her last day, we have our grand old daddy (a fiddly diddly PhD who knows squat) and one of his acolytes engaging her in the Yahoo Messenger. I thought no more of it- maybe curiosity has got the better of them. But it turned out the old man and his lackey were in for some fun. Her replies, sober as they were, somehow filled their hearts with glee.

I am not taking specific cases. I noticed quite a few smiles when the investment banks fell. Though I do not deny that the practitioners of "high finance" may have onset the new recession, but the uncertainty surrounding their careers are hardly just compensation.

All these are not news to the seasoned. There are hundreds of anecdotes one can share and they are shared- some do it over pints, some give vent by blogging. But what troubles is that my theorisation failed. If money, success (professional) and education cannot make us shrug off our pettiness, then is it endemic to us?

So Much Taken Care of- Yet So Much to Do

In spite of the periodic bouts of the urban angst, I have no concrete reasons to be unhappy. Happily settled into a job that pays decent and hardly makes you sweat; Loving parents willing to shower affection at the drop of a hat yet never to interfere in my personal life. A girlfriend who has never been demanding and always been kind. And the best of friends.

Life becomes a tad unliveable if one does not have a real sense of what one wishes to do with it.

Some are gifted with the purpose of excellence. They strive to excel everywhere. Some are not so gifted yet pick their dreams to find out the one thing that they would love to do all their lives. Fortunates commit to that one thing and make something out of it. The rest drift and crib.

In my early youth I knew only too well that I am not gifted to strive and thrive. Unaware of a lot of things, I made the assumption that I have the aptitude of one thing and will manage to eke out a living- and may even get noticed.

The University dispelled such illusions. The truth was hard to digest- but made easier by an alternative - the job market.

I had briefly flirted with the idea that I may do well here. More importantly, find a purpose. But just as a simpleton knows that the town dame is well beyond his reach, I thankfully did not the same mistake again.

The thought of identifying yourself with one set of values, one pursuit (the employer's excellence) is all very alien. I have never given much to values. I have some, oh yes, but some of them proved flexible enough in case of need. The rest have not been tested yet.

A person who has seldom thought beyond himself can hardly align with a motley group which form the corporation. A contempt born out of a curious mix of inferiority complex and illusions of being distinguished ensures that I make friends easily, yet none of them are close. Some have managed to breach the barrier. Lucky them.

I do understand that I am no messiah. I lack the motivation and hate the discomfort of being so. A messiah need not be defined by a Lead India winner (though that may be what I would have thought of in school) but one who can actually reflect beyond his own concerns. And make a genuine difference to another (not a friend, someone outside the social contract); without somehow helping himself, at present or future.

Indulgence has been a purpose. It isn't everything- but has definitely given me enough to last till now. It cannot take care of a lot, including why I continue to write such posts. But sure as hell gives me a drive.

A friend of mine will quip "Typical bourgeoisie", with not even an iota of seriousness. Yet unfortunately he is right. It is the desire to indulge myself in ways I haven't discovered yet that keeps me going.

A man's best friend- The Credit Card!

I am new into the professional world. This world has it's many wonders (hard to find but it does, trust me). One is the credit card. There are always people who are sweet enough to call you and inform how their credit card is the best. Reminds me of the better times- when parents used to gush about their kids and claim theirs were the best.

So I fell for one. I use such an expression because if you ask any person (excluding the solicitous card agents) about it, they fail to mask their abject horror and insist that it is something that you must always avoid. If you happen to have one (just out of curiosity or the eternal desire to look "cool") they beseech you to not, for the life of you, use it.

I nod and thank god (and my sociability) for having such well-wishers.

But I still fell for one- the impetuousness of the youth is to be blamed. The forbidden has it's special allure. I, playing perfectly to my ancestral heritage (I'm a bungaali, itself a gaali), carry out zero-research and fall for the first one I am canvassed for.

Oh, but I am no fool. The bank is esteemed enough- it has an unique flavour of the oriental and the occidental. It calls itself the world's local bank. They have some cool offers (including the fact that it's free - an obvious turn-on for a middle class Indian, plus a bungaali) which I pretend I understand- I have to look smart all the time- I work for an MNC! And happily become an owner of a Gold card. The nomenclature is suspect as the maximum balance (the maximum I can borrow) can buy only so much of gold at today's prices. But I am made to be convinced it's a big deal. I nod.

Months pass. Never felt the need to use it. Then something momentous happens in my life (no reason to hold your breath- the event is so prosaic and common, that you may suspect that I truly lead a most boring life), I get a new job.

Not a big deal. For you, maybe. The job was in a different city and I had to resign in the middle of the month. I had a notice period of one month, which I am meant to serve and then join the new organisation.

So for one and a half months there was no income. Now you are starting to get the damn reason I wrote this piece. For people yet to unravel the great mysteries of the Wonder World, when you resign all your pay is withheld till the magic "Full and Final" settlement.

Relocation is not easy. It requires tons of money. Monies that will be reimbursed by the new organisation and not paid for. Where do you get such money?

Parents you say, with an obvious shrug. I know too. It's just that once I have stepped into this Wonder World (or ya-ya land, take your pick) I have felt a great discomfort in asking them for money. But I yield, only a little bit. They have moved into a new flat and I should not exert further pressure- I decide.

Friends. My trusted girlfriend comes to the rescue. So does another great friend (male friend - who I've been incidentally linked up with - a proof of how debased our humour is. And by this I mean no disrespect to the gay community). They help me pull up. But there is yet something missing.

The Credit Card comes to the rescue. It may not buy a lot of gold, but it sure made sure that I am not made to do something desperate. Desperate measures, when you come to think of it, could mean several things. Selling your kidney (only a trip to Gurgaon), selling your body (I'm sure there were army wives in Noida), picking pockets (risky but I can always claim I'm an addict) and to beg (I suspect I'll be no good at it, despite my poverty stricken looks).

So who or what's a man's best friend - a dog? Don't amuse me. Faced with the above situation, the dog at best will give a good lick. And look cute. Real friends can only help so much. I am blessed with an awesome lady as a girlfriend (although she does not return the favour, understandably I may add) and generous parents. But sometimes even they have constraints.

The credit card helps you invariably. It may kill you later but makes sure you live today. I lived. Yet to pay but.

So you meet a pretty girl somewhere and you have zilch (pocket and savings account). How do things work out?

So you see something that you've always wanted and it's coming at a discount. But again you have zilch. You give it up? Give me a break!

So it's honeymoon time and you are made responsible to hold up your family's pride. Then?

I stand up for this- the Credit Card is my best friend!

The bleeding heart liberals please note that this was meant to be a non-serious post. I acknowledge the fleecing behaviour of the banks and the private sector in general. I also acknowledge the exploitative machinations of capitalism and it's gruesome cousin imperialism. I also acknowledge the fact that a friend has other uses (!!!) than lending money.