Copyright@shravancharitymission
WHAT DO YOU DO? HOW DO YOU DO?
Kamlesh Tripathi
At a party in an upscale housing society, a Page 3 socialite cornered me with the confidence of a customs officer examining a suspicious passport.
“What do you do?” he asked, looking me up and down.
“I did many things in the past,” I replied cheerfully, “but now I do nothing. So, mostly, I dwell on my past.”
He looked puzzled. Perhaps doing nothing was not listed among the respectable professions in his social directory.
“And where are you from?” came his next question.
“I am very much from this place,” I said, “though I have been around the world.”
“Really? And where do you stay?”
“Currently, I stay in a house of my own, just behind that pond you can see.” I pointed towards it. “But during my career, I have stayed in more than three dozen houses.”
“Good heavens! Why so many?”
“Because I always lived in rented accommodation in different cities. My career demanded mobility, while my salary discouraged property ownership.”
For the first time, he smiled. I suspected he had mistaken my explanation for an investment strategy.
“But what is your introduction?” he asked, looking increasingly uncomfortable.
“Well, I have a retired face, a retired figure, and a retired walk, as you can see. I also possess an Aadhaar card, a PAN card, a voter ID card, and a house number. What more does a citizen need to establish his identity?”
He stared at me as though I had just applied for membership of the United Nations.
“Nice to meet youuu…?”
“Samarth,” I replied. “And what about you?”
He straightened his designer jacket. “I am in the corporate world.”
“Wonderful! Which planet?”
He ignored the question. “Which department were you in, Samarth?”
“Several, at different times. I moved from one department to another, met hundreds of people, attended countless meetings, and filled in enough forms to qualify for a post in bureaucracy.”
“And what was your designation?”
“That depended on whom I was talking to. To my boss, I was a subordinate. To my colleagues, I was a colleague. To my juniors, I was a senior. At home, I was simply the man who had forgotten to bring vegetables.”
He laughed politely, although I could tell he was wondering whether I had ever occupied a respectable position.
“And now?” he persisted.
“Now I occupy a sofa, occasionally an armchair, and sometimes a chair at the dining table. I am enjoying the most senior position of my life: nobody can transfer me.”
By then, a few guests had gathered around us. The socialite, however, was not ready to surrender.
“So, how do you spend your time?”
“I read, write, observe people, and attend parties like this. They provide excellent material for my next article.”
He suddenly became alert. “You write?”
“Occasionally.”
“Anything published?”
“Yes. Some of my articles have appeared in newspapers and magazines.”
His expression changed instantly. The retired gentleman had acquired professional relevance.
“Splendid! We must keep in touch. Here is my card. Do call me sometime.”
I accepted it graciously.
As he moved away, another guest approached me with the inevitable question.
“What do you do?”
I smiled.
“Before I answer, may I ask you something?”
“Certainly.”
“How do you do?”
He looked startled. “I beg your pardon?”
“Exactly!” I said. “That is what I have been trying to discover all evening. Everyone wants to know what everybody does, but hardly anyone asks how anybody does.”
The man blinked, then burst out laughing.
Perhaps that was the first honest introduction of the evening.
After all, ‘What do you do?’ asks about your occupation; ‘How do you do?’ ought to ask about your well-being. Unfortunately, at modern parties, your occupation often matters more than your condition.
And if you happen to be retired, be prepared: you may have to introduce your entire past before anyone permits you to enjoy your present.
kamleshsujata@yahoo.com
