I was working part time in pizza corner, as a waiter. On one particular day the dine in was not very busy, but the delivery guys were all out and they needed an extra hand.
"I do not know how to drive that geared scooter," I told my manager.
"Take your kinetic honda, I will pay for the petrol," he said.
I threw my apron into my tiny green locker, grabbed my helmet and the red bag with the pizzas and zoomed out. I had two deliveries to make.
The first delivery led me into, smaller and smaller lanes till I reached a slum dwellers settlement. I had to ask the route several times and I finally reached a tiny cement house with an asbestos roof. Wondering if I had indeed reached the right place, I asked around and a father with two very excited kids called me over to the tiny house.
The door was fully open and I was engaged in two conversations at the same time.
"Did you find the place easily?" the father asked.
"How did you get here?" the little boy asked. The boy was with his sister and they had a constant smile. They were delighted that I had arrived.
"I had to ask for directions several times (I told the father)... I came here on my kinetic honda", I told the kids.
"How much for the pizza," asked the father.
"Why did you not come in the delivery scooter," asked the son.
"350Rs..." Then I looked at the kids and I did not know what to say. It was almost as though they wanted to see me arrive in the colourful delivery scooter and it was more important than enjoying the pizza. For the kids, the arrival of the pizza was as important as- batman arriving in the batmobile. What is batman without his batmobile!
The father tipped me well and I am a bit ashamed to say that I was very surprised. I was not expecting a tip from a family that lived in a small house and an asbestos roof.
Strangely I experienced this one other time when I was at the restaurant and a man in a lungi (traditional Indian clothing) walked in and ordered three large pizza's to take away. It was a busy day and I was running around minding a lot of tables. He called me all of a sudden and in a very pleasant manner asked me- "Are you ignoring my order because I am in a lungi? Do you think I will not tip you?"
He had a smile on his face and his question was in no way a rant or a jibe. He was smiling and I smiled back. "No such thing sir," I told him. "Your three large pizza's will be ready soon." True to his words he did tip me well.
People wearing lungies, people living in small houses... they tip more. Is it a prestige thing? 'Look at me I can afford to tip big?'In the case of the guy wearing the Lungi maybe... but the family in the tiny house, were by themselves- they had nothing to prove to anyone.
They were happy to see me. Batman, although he was without the batmobile, brought a tiny piece of joy.
What they did not realise was that their joy was not from the tiny cardboard box that contained the pizza. It was from having a dad that cared.
I read a passage in a book called the 'Art of Loving' by Eric Fromm who says that a human being's most fundamental desire is a longing for transcendence and unity. When we do not attain this we try to overcome this unconscious despair by the routine of amusement, the passive consumption of sounds and sights offered by the amusement industry, further more by the satisfaction of buying new things and soon exchanging them for others (OLX anyone?).
"Modern man is actually close to the picture Huxley describes in his Brave New World- well fed, well clad, satisfied sexually, yet without self, without any except the most superficial contact with fellow men... Huxley formulated the crowning statement- everyone is happy nowadays."
A lungi is a sign of being- ill clad. Having pizza only once a year is a sign of being - ill fed. I was reminded of the time in my 7th grade when I was in the lift of a tall multistorey building (I happened to live in that building). A lady walks in and looks at my rubber slippers, my old and slightly oversized cloths and she asked me- "In which house do you work in?" I was indignant, but I smiled and I told her- "I do not work here, I live here."
I walked out that evening to play football and noticed that all the kids in my gated apartment complex wore Nike's and Adidas. I was a hurt that day. But today- I am proud to say - my name is Kaaka Muttai.
(For those of my friends who do not know about Kaaka Muttai - literally translated as Crow's egg- it is a national award winning Tamil film about two kids from a slum who want to have a slice of pizza. Poignantly beautiful, stunningly simple, heart wrenching yet fun- the best Tamil movie I have seen in a very very long time. It is out now and playing in most cities with english subtitles)
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