Education at doorsteps
CAMIL PARKHE
Tuesday, December 28, 2010 AT 07:12 PM (IST)
Tags: Camil Parkhe
Daddy, that policeman has come again to arrest you,” announced my daughter after answering the doorbell. Grumblingly, I searched for a Rs5 coin and headed towards the door. “Your visits have now become too frequent,” I protested as I handed over the coin to the young man, shabbily dressed as a police constable. He was a member of the Bahurupi or the Rayran community which visits various houses, dressed as Shankar, Hanuman and nowadays mostly as policeman as it requires a minimum makeup. “Chala Saheb, there is an arrest warrant against you,” is how he greets the unsuspecting persons at each door and reaches a compromise with as little as Rs5 or Rs10 as his entertainment fee.
The bahurupi is among the scores of persons regularly ringing doorbells in my building. As an office-bearer of the housing society, I've been discouraging members from entertaining salespersons as a security precaution. There are notices displayed in our parking lot, announcing "Salespersons are not allowed."
I used to frown whenever I saw an elderly neighbour enjoying long conversations with salespersons offering a variety of products. “Aho Kaku, it is not safe to allow unknown persons enter our homes, they may be thieves on a recce mission,” I tried to explain to her.
Much to my chagrin, Kaku continued to evince a keen interest in what the salespersons had to say or sell although I never saw her purchasing anything from them. Kaku's family had shifted from a Satara village some years back and until recently, the family had not felt the need for modern gadgets like mixer, fridge or food processors. Then, why was she wasting time with salespersons at the risk of security, I wondered.
One day, I could not restrain myself when I saw Kaku, with absolutely no knowledge of English, flipping through the pages of a thick volume of an English dictionary brought by a young salesman. As was her wont, she did not purchase the salesman's product.
“Kaku, why do you entertain these salespersons when you never purchase anything from them,” I asked her. “I've nothing to do when all other family members have left home either for work or for the school. Besides, talking to these salespersons, watching them demonstrating a variety of products, I'm introduced to a world I've never known before.”
Her answer stumped me. I had never imagined sales talk at the doorstep had this advantage. After that, I never objected to Kaku’s talks with salespersons.
CAMIL PARKHE
Tuesday, December 28, 2010 AT 07:12 PM (IST)
Tags: Camil Parkhe
Daddy, that policeman has come again to arrest you,” announced my daughter after answering the doorbell. Grumblingly, I searched for a Rs5 coin and headed towards the door. “Your visits have now become too frequent,” I protested as I handed over the coin to the young man, shabbily dressed as a police constable. He was a member of the Bahurupi or the Rayran community which visits various houses, dressed as Shankar, Hanuman and nowadays mostly as policeman as it requires a minimum makeup. “Chala Saheb, there is an arrest warrant against you,” is how he greets the unsuspecting persons at each door and reaches a compromise with as little as Rs5 or Rs10 as his entertainment fee.
The bahurupi is among the scores of persons regularly ringing doorbells in my building. As an office-bearer of the housing society, I've been discouraging members from entertaining salespersons as a security precaution. There are notices displayed in our parking lot, announcing "Salespersons are not allowed."
I used to frown whenever I saw an elderly neighbour enjoying long conversations with salespersons offering a variety of products. “Aho Kaku, it is not safe to allow unknown persons enter our homes, they may be thieves on a recce mission,” I tried to explain to her.
Much to my chagrin, Kaku continued to evince a keen interest in what the salespersons had to say or sell although I never saw her purchasing anything from them. Kaku's family had shifted from a Satara village some years back and until recently, the family had not felt the need for modern gadgets like mixer, fridge or food processors. Then, why was she wasting time with salespersons at the risk of security, I wondered.
One day, I could not restrain myself when I saw Kaku, with absolutely no knowledge of English, flipping through the pages of a thick volume of an English dictionary brought by a young salesman. As was her wont, she did not purchase the salesman's product.
“Kaku, why do you entertain these salespersons when you never purchase anything from them,” I asked her. “I've nothing to do when all other family members have left home either for work or for the school. Besides, talking to these salespersons, watching them demonstrating a variety of products, I'm introduced to a world I've never known before.”
Her answer stumped me. I had never imagined sales talk at the doorstep had this advantage. After that, I never objected to Kaku’s talks with salespersons.
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