Chicago Blues

This blog is an online repertoire of my columns that run in the Indian Express, North American edition. Here I rave and rant about life, mostly as seen from the large vistas of my little world.

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Location: Chicago, United States

Thursday, September 14, 2006

They’re everywhere --- the malls, Patel’s stores, the gym, and even the library. And unless you’re considerably hidden under layers of Holi colors, or are sporting a hair-raising flaxen wig that can adeptly hide your desi origin, there’s no ducking out. Even their ‘pick-up’ tactics, so to speak, are so prosaic that their decoying smiles are not as much of a telltale anymore. First, there’s the awkward hovering around, then, depending on the savvy levels, a pick from the obvious-questions-list. For instance, a novice in the trade would ask, “Excuse me, are you from Mumbai…or Delhi?” and a veteran would say, “Excuse me, have we met before? You look very familiar!”

If you still haven’t figured out, I’m referring to the hordes of desi direct sales consultants that are mushrooming by the dozen even as I write this. People are so frenzied about this that it has now become the party topic around town. Every get together I go to, people are bundling up in corners, with their platters of samosas and cups of tea, and discussing ways and means of keeping these irksome hawkers at bay.

A friend of ours, for instance, believed that honesty would be the best policy -- and told this guy he met in the mall that he doesn’t usually give out his numbers to strangers. But the guy persisted, trying to rope in vague connections they may have shared, and trying to explain that he would just be glad to have him over for tea sometime. “In this country, so faraway from home, we desis must stick together, you know. You never know when you might need help,” he’s said to have mumbled. But our friend said, “Well, I have enough friends that I can count on, and thanks for the offer. But I think I’ll pass.”

In another equally interesting episode, another friend was tired of being hounded with phone calls --- some came in the middle of the night --- all the way from India, where this Amway amateur was apparently holidaying. So, my friend decided to play it the Amway way. He took the initiative after a spell of silence, called up the guy, and said, “Hey, remember that business proposition you came to me with? I’d actually like to take you up on it. But there’s one minor hassle --- I don’t exactly have the money to invest at this point of time. So, may be you’ll pitch in, and if I make a profit, I’ll pay you back?” That was the end of it.

Now to our own experiences --- a few years ago, my husband ran into an ex-colleague at the hair cutter’s and it was just a simple, harmless conversation --- catching up on work and such, and it culminated with the exchange of business cards. The calls started to pour in even before he’d reached back home. The guy turned out to be another Timeshare geek, and was literally breathing down my husband’s neck to get him to go over for “snacks and high tea.” My husband, being the gentleman, went over, sat through an elaborate, dreary convention that explained the value of Timeshare, alongside a few other poor, unsuspecting desis like himself, and got home. And something had happened that made him smile --- even before he’d reached back, I’d called the guy’s house to check if my husband was still around, as he’d forgotten to carry his cellphonel. And then I politely told the guy to back off, and that we weren’t interested in any business offer, as we already were into something else. The house was peaceful for days, and the ringing of the phone was merely an echo inside our heads.

And then there was the time when I was at the mall, on a weekend spree, and was chased by this sly desi couple. Finally, when I was at the Starbucks counter, the lady came up to me, and asked, “Hello, excuse me? I was just wondering…you know…if you’re from India…” And I had had enough of being followed and harassed, so I snapped back, “No.” And that’s all it took, really.

In the past weekend, we were at a child’s birthday party, and amidst an ocean of desis, one specimen that caught my attention. He seemed nervous, and was constantly gawking at people from the corner of his eyes, as if to study their mindset. He even gave me the ‘look,’ a couple of times, but I blissfully ignored him. Finally, at the dinner table, he came up to me, and muttered something in Bengali, and said, “Your daughter is beautiful, and very bright too…” I simply cut him short, and said, “Do I know you?” To which he said, wiping his brow restlessly, “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s just that you look very familiar --- are you from Mumbai?” And I said, “Oh, I have a common face. And so do you, by the way --- are you an Amway consultant?”

2 Comments:

Blogger urban trotter said...

Tell me about it! It took me a while to figure out tho. Initially I was gullible enough to think that people were being friendly. D-uh! Me..:)

3:19 AM  
Blogger Ranjini said...

Gracias, urban trotter, for stopping by, and leaving a note. I am glad my little rant made sense - btw, do I know you?

12:09 PM  

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