Shirpur - Bollywood in Day to Day Life

On Friday we boarded a public bus to Shirpur, a little town near the Madhya Pradesh and Gujarat borders. This town also comes under the jurisdiction (for lack of a better word) of my sales officer. He explained that there were several problems with retailers in Shirpur who claimed they could get cheaper stock from across the border. Moreover, there was a huge problem with counterfeit goods - so cleverly cast that even practiced eyes from the company could not tell the difference between the fake Ponds Dreamflower Talc and the real one.

The landscape as we drove to Shirpur was somewhat like an Indian Wild West - dry with scrub vegetation. For most part, it looked like this:

If I was to say that the landscape had an ethereal beauty to it, I would have to be joking. I didn't find it particularly appealing. However, it was a pleasant enough bus ride. The MSRTC buses are rather rickety and shudder in a manner that jars you to your bones when they travel through city roads or over bumps. But on a smooth National Highway they are perfectly serviceable and comfortable.

We pulled into the hot, dusty town of Shirpur just as the thermometer was rising and started off on our beat almost immediately after. While at the first shop, we heard the sounds of drums again. A crowd of people walked past carrying a body on a stretcher. I averted my eyes out of respect and also because I didn't particularly want to see the body - it was clearly a funeral procession. Except, this seemed to be a very cheerful one. The youths in the processions cheered and danced and soon started chanting - about the petrol price hike. The body turned out to be an effigy - one of Pranab Mukherjee judging by the shape of the head. After the protesters were done with their slogans, they shouted 'Jai Shivaji' for good measure. Truly patriotic sons of the soil they were.

The rise in petrol prices was a about to play a very important part in my life later on - but at that moment I was just amused like my sales officer and the retailer (wholesaler to be precise) to whom we were talking.

We visited a variety of 'fancy stores' or as my Mom used to called them, 'Novelty Stores'. These beautifully done up shops had everything a woman wanted - or so they advertised. They had counterfeit Ponds, breast enlargement creams, age defying creams, counterfeit Fair and Lovely, jewelry, purses and so on. They also usually had boards like this:

Apparently you can gets toys and women from this store :)

After spending nearly 2 hours convincing a wholesaler with a cheerful face and the heart of a miser (I am being harsh but he was really irritating) to buy our products, we called it a day and headed to the shadily named 'Hotel Payal' for lunch.

This Hotel Payal completely lived up to its name. It had private booths separated from the public area by curtains where nefarious activities could take place. The crowd was a mix of chaps who looked like seedy small time gangsters and chaps who looked like they had been oppressed by seedy small time gangsters. We went to the AC area which also had a private booth - which was separated by a wooden partition. My curiosity got the better of me; I peeped in and caught a glimpse of a unshaven face with a curly mop of hair. This man was sprawled impudently along the length of the couch as I am sure his companion was on the other side. He looked like he frequented dance bars.

As we took our seats, the conversation going on the in private booth became apparent to us. From the sound of it, the man and his crony were issuing threats to someone over the phone. They were using rather foul language which was all lost on me as I didn't understand any of it. The sales officers with me however were deeply concerned that my young ears were getting polluted and requested the waiter to ask the gangsters to keep it down. The waiter looked terrified. "They always speak like that", he said.

And so a rather hilarious game began of the chivalrous sales officers trying to talk louder than the gangsters. "Check whats on the menu boss", said S. Sir as the gangster went "Teri Ma ki bh*&%$!". My company tried to make really lame jokes about the menu items (comparing them to HUL products) as the gangters started negotiating some terms - "I gave you this amount of money. If <inaudible because of some fresh joke made by my company>, teri behen ki....." The entire scene was incredibly amusing and quite bizzare and I had to try very hard not to laugh. "The spoon with which I am eating, will be in your throat" declared the gangster behind us as our food arrived. "Do you know if the stock shortage in Aurangabad has been resolved?" asked S. Sir rather feebly.

In the same area, a gang of girls sat seemingly unfazed by this environment. They were quite fashionably dressed in t-shirts and jeans and I was impressed for here I was in a salwar and kurta. I was however saddened to note that they all wrapped themselves in dupattas and stoles as they got up to leave. I don't blame them given the general ambiance of the place.

We headed back to good old Dhule - it had been a tiring but very entertaining day. The chief sight which stayed with me on our way back was that of the majestic river Tapi (usually mentioned in conjunction with Narmada) winding its way to nowhere. Here is a picture:

My days in Dhule aren't over yet and there is no telling what else life has in store for me here (though I got an excellent indication of it today - which I will talk about in the next post). All I can say is, watch this space!

Doing time in Dhule

So I am doing my sales training right now - and a part of the training seems to be to send one to towns in the hinterland with interesting and sometimes hilarious names. That is how I ended up and am still in Dhule or Dhulia as many people call it.

But before I move to Dhule, I must relate an amusing incident that happened in Nashik. We arrived in Nashik just about in time for the sales meeting we had there - two of my bosses and I. I was hopping mad desperate to get to a toilet and given my preoccupation, I conveniently forgot that the suitcase containing all my worldly possessions for the next 4 months was still on the bus. I thankfully realised this quite quickly. We had a car waiting for us and instructed the driver to go to the booking office of the bus. It was a race against time. My full bladder forgotten, I anxiously drummed my fingers on the car window as the driver slowly weaved through the non-existent Nashik traffic. Finally we spotted the bus ahead of us. My bosses were totally cool as one of them said the wonderful words 'Follow that bus'. Despite not being a movie fan, I let that moment sink in briefly, and then resumed my anxious drumming. We followed the bus and as it gained speed, our driver grew increasingly concerned and reckless - traffic was a cause for concern by now. However, the bus finally made a stop. We stopped behind it and with a flourish, I threw the door open, ran to the bus conductor who was just opening the cargo hold - and was gloriously reunited with my luggage.

Now back to Dhulia.

This town is in North Maharashtra and has virtually no train connectivity. The only way one could get there was by bus. So after spending a rather emotional night in Nashik, I caught the 6.15 MSRTC bus to Dhulia with my precious suitcase and my laptop bag as my only luggage.

My first impression of Dhulia was quite positive. It seemed like a quaint, sleepy town. From the bus station, an auto ferried me to my hotel - Krishnai Food Garden on Sakri Road. As far as locations go, the hotel is located somewhat away from the city center. However, it is a nice and comfortable hotel with good food and a courteous staff. 

Dhule has a main square which is very war-like (it seems like the town is trying to steal the thunder from its neighboring town actually called War). There is an imposing tank in the middle surrounded by statues of a soldier kneeling with his rifle and a couple of cannons, another tank for good measure and the usual Shivaji statue. I was quite taken in by this circle - which is commonly known as the Santoshi Ma circle after a temple which stands near it. 

Dhule is also a planned city which means that more often than not, the streets are perpendicular to each other and you can see all the way down the length of one street. It is also very hot here - about 42 degrees maximum going down to 28 degrees at the minimum. Sigh. And my mother was complaining about 32 degrees in Bangalore.

My life in Dhule consists mainly of going with salesmen on their beat everyday, bugging the tired sales office with questions and generally observing things. What I have realised is that people in small towns are highly colourful. They live larger than life lives and wear their hearts on their sleeves - and they are not afraid to open their hearts up to you. The people I have met are interesting and entertaining and  incredibly warm. I have been fed so much Thumbs Up, Mazaa and Sugarcane juice which on my market visits that I am quite sure I will not be losing much weight. Moreover, each person here has his or her own story and is usually keen to tell you about it. Take the lady I shared my auto with on day two.

This lady, from the looks of it, was running away from home. She had a suitcase and told me in highly accented Hindi (meaning it sounded more like Marathi than Hindi and had a lot of slang) about how she had to leave home (or had been thrown out) and had no where else to go except to the auto driver (who was either her brother or some relative or just a sympathetic character). She told me how several people had left her village to come to Dhule. She also told me about her daughter who had apparently fallen in love with a nice boy. While most people had been opposed to the marriage and the daughter had considered running away, she the mother had no troubles and asked them both to have a court marriage. She then made allusions to budhu and hospital which made me think of a mental asylum. "Where else do I go?", she said, "Except to this budha" (gesturing at the auto driver). If at all this aunty had really faced so much sorrow and was running away from home, she was extremely cheerful about it. She had strong, determined features and looked like a Mother India types - one that would defy society for her and her family's hnour. Or may be I am building it up in my head. Anyways, we dropped her at the bus stand and later on, the auto driver told me that she had wanted to drop me off and then go to the bus station. 

I then started my sales beat with a salesman whose name was Vani. He certainly lived up to his name. He talked and argued continuously - the previous day, thanks to him, a half an hour meeting had gone up to one and a half hours - till 7:15 pm. For this reason, I was feeling slightly resentful towards him. However, he was interesting company. We met a couple of shopkeepers and ended up at the shop of one of the cooler individuals I have met.

This shopkeeper was a wizened old Muslim man with twinkling eyes, a magnificent beard and a wonderful smile that lit up his entire face and made his eyes twinkle even more. He complained in a jesting vein for a bit about our goods but was cut short by the sound of drums. When we looked out, we saw that the Shiv Sena was protesting the petrol price hike and had taken out a procession to this end. Youths waving saffron flags called loudly for the government to be ejected accompanied by drums and er, dancing. There were only about 25 people in this procession though. "Why do they bother protesting", said our shopkeeper, his eyes sparkling. "They just protest against anything. As if they are even concerned about this issue. You just go to their homes and you will find so much gold stashed away there. And apparently they speak for us!" He then turned his attention to a product catalog we had given him and pointed to one of the products - Pepsodent Day and Night Toothbrush for Kids. 

Uncle: What do you mean by Day and Night?

Vani: <conscious that is was a marketing gimmick, with a wry smile on his face> It means the kids can use it in the day and at night.

Uncle: So other toothbrushes can't be used at night is it? <eyes twinkling away>

Vani: Older children have time to use it only once a day!

We were all laughing hard by this time. Oh boy, marketing really didn't come out on top in that test.

In my next post, I will talk about a rather hilarious trip to Shirpur, another town which my sales officer handles. For the time being, I leave you with this picture of Uncle.

And btw, I am going to come back and post about Nice, so stay posted!