A real life incident, of course, blown slightly out of proportion by my idle brain. As a prelude, though, I would like to mention that in my family, I am known as ‘The Salesman’ because of my weird tendency to try to sell the concept of anything and everything materialistic that appeals to me. In shops, I am known to side with the salesperson, and not with the haggler, i.e my shopping comrade. Therefore my presence is usually not preferred in the long duration of bargaining, which is acceptable to me, since I get embarrassed and feel sorry for the poor shopkeeper. But then again, my Dad is perhaps one of the few people in the world who enjoy inflicting derogatory market terms on the backdrop of unreasonably priced cornflake cartons.
Anyway, so today I was waiting for my dad to finish some business of his. I was wearing a tracksuit (the reason involving some kind of emergency, but whatever) at 11 a.m in the morning(?) . I was standing with one hand resting on the hood of my dad’s car, legs crossed smartly, other hand on my waist, and a preoccupied smile on my face ( I am rarely unoccupied). In short, I looked like a car salesman who forgot to wear his suit and didn’t quite make it to the showroom. In my occupational state, I saw a guy on a motorcycle cross my position, all the while staring at my glorious bizarre pose, then he turned around and stopped in front of me…”Kaise ho bhai?” he inquired. I snapped out of my reverie and stared back blankly, reason being that there was nothing in my memory log to indicate I had ever met the man in mundane reality. I did, however, notice that his upper incisors were slightly disoriented like mine. Regaining my worthless wits, I gave him a confused but pleasant smile. Then… he asked me what the mileage of the car was. Assuming my imperious salesman mode, I gave an exaggerated figure of 17-18 kmpl, though he was enquiring about a brand-new 2 year old Maruti 800. Not surprisingly, he was impressed and further praised the longest- surviving dirt car of Delhi. I, of course, made it sound like an all-terrain 4 Wheel Drive. After a while, he actually asked ME the selling price, and then I had to regretfully announce that it was not for sale. However, to justify my destruction of the gentleman’s hopes, I embarked on a long explanation of my (dad’s) earlier ownership of two cars, and how I (dad) sold the other, better car that was such a beauty for a despairingly low price. I gained sympathy from him, and he asked me one final time whether I would be selling it in the near future. I shook my head, apology in my eyes, and we bid each other suave goodbyes.
My dad arrived at that moment, and I braced myself to sell the idea of me going to the school picnic.
Phew! The Sad End.
