Lapses of lingy…

These days I seem to meet so many people who are preoccupied with making lots of money and then using it for the sole purpose of enhancing their lifestyle.

One such yuppy, a cut-throat sales guys, wants 5 crores in his bank account. Once the deal is sealed, he will quit working for a living (expected, of course). He will completely indulge by playing with the most cutting-edge gadgets, drive the fastest cars, live in a fancy mansion, et al. Sigh. Such a cliché.

The dream figure for another is 100 crores. If he were to hit the jackpot, he might get into philanthropy or even turn entrepreneur, he said with such a casual air that it brought to mind a high society type (and this is me stereotyping) who organises a big ticket charity event to help poor people, but for whom poverty is a concept. Now here’s a smart, intelligent, well-read, well-educated IIM graduate with no life goal (except for getting rich) and no burning passion, which isn’t driven by money or fame.

Some people take long while to zero in on what drives them, and to really feel the passion. But some people aren’t looking, period. I think it’s sad that people with potential and all the credentials, don’t feel the love. Maybe one gets cynical post experiencing the murky side of corporate life, but eventually, I think for those who are truly motivated by something other than money and fame, they get their creative mojo back. And when it hits you, boy, it does with a bang!

It’s this extra something, which makes us committed and have a personal stake in the bigger picture. In Mumbai, I met many people who are passionate about something, and it doesn’t stem from material aspirations. They give their all sans expectation, and unconditionally.

I miss meeting people like that; they are so much more inspiring and those who want only money and fame.

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The sofa has helped me start reading again; the morning paper, books, Huffingtonpost.com.

And I can actually invite people home, sans wondering where they are going to park. One fine morning my neighbour dropped in with her two month-old son in her arms. He was being difficult and refusing to sleep. As I held him cautiously in my arms to give the tired-looking mommy some succour, a gentle sleep-inducing breeze crept in from the balcony. A few seconds later, the little cherub was asleep.

The mom looked half-relieved, half-shocked at this minor feat and wouldn’t allow me to speak, lest he should wake up any minute. “You may have an alternative career; start a creche in the building,” she suggested.

I observed later that the windows and balcony doors in her home are perennially shut and the air is static; even a mere cherub can sense this constriction of energy.

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My maid is most enthused by the new old sofa set. She noticed that the wood was had plintered on one arm, and demanded in her usual overzealous manner to knowhow this came to be.

I really feel for her, this woman-child who has three kids at the age of 21, no education, and yet, is bright, enterprising and has a memorable personality.

So, this morning, whilst I was sipping chai and lounging on sofa, accepting new Facebook requests, she was mopping the floor and suggesting (rather vociferously) that I get two sets of covers for the cushions — so, she can wash one whilst the other sits snugly on the Sleepwell cushions.

Also, get a small centre table (wooden), she suggested, so, that she can serve breakfast and sip chai, here when friends pop over. She said all of this rather dramatically, like as if she was visualling a scene, and herself playing a major part in it.

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