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!