Ever consider snapping a picture of an electronics shop clerk?

June 13, 2010

As is true most any time I travel, and certainly when I am doing work in another country, equipment or materials need to be bought.  Money is always being spent on unconsidered items.  As a part of my Fulbright-Nehru project, I have hired a videographer to shoot some of my class time with students so that I will hopefully have footage to create small films of my work.  But to store all that footage, suddenly I needed to have an external hard drive.  “Go to Rich St.” I was told.  “Electronic shops all about.”  Fine, but a shop nearer my home was my first stop.

Unfortunately, in this high end, well a/ced, clean shop, the selection was limited, in multiple ways. So my friend said, we go to Rich St.  It will only take 15 minutes.  That was good to know, since I was supposed to be at dinner 45 minutes later. The rickshaw took us through a confusion of back streets, or maybe they are main roads.  Sometimes it is truly hard for me to determine the difference.  My friend knew where we were going, such that he ended up in a small argument with the driver and we were left off right there.

Whereas we generally end up right in front of our destination, this time we needed to walk.  Along this ever darkening street. Into an even darker alley that was covered with wall to wall puddles from the recent rains.  Trying to avoid a feet-soaking and being splashed from the passing motorcycles and rickshaws was a bit of a feat (my friend did better than I).  Tiny electronic shop after tiny electronic shop we passed, until we turned up another dark alley that seemed to be full of a lot of closed shops, save one or two.  We entered one.  A full one.  A shop the size of a large closet, lined with boxes of computer wares.  Unfortunately, he only had what the other shop had, until I explained my needs.  “I can get it for you, if you like.” “Oh, when do we come back?” I asked.  “I can have it in 7 or 10 minutes.”  But then it became clear that if he got it, I should buy it.

30 minutes had passed.  I was fifteen minutes from dinner, but at least 15 minutes rickshaw ride from home.  And a decision was to be made.  Imagine for a moment, this moment playing out.  If I was at home, my permanent home, I’d be wary of the goods I might be buying.  I am tucked in the middle of nowhere, not sure how I got there and not sure how I would get back.  What guarantees would I have?  As I debated, the clerk asked, “You want some tea?” he picked up the phone and called.  As he got off the phone he said, “You want to see the hard drive?” I nodded (sideways, of course, we’re in India) and he dialed away again.  “Ten minutes.”  And in less than 3, tea arrived.  We sat and sipped as we waited.  5 minutes to dinner.

Now here’s where the desired picture comes in.  As we sipped, the clerk excused himself and proceeded to set up an offering to the shrine he had above his desk.  For me, this place would have seemed more in line with my experience if there had been a calendar with bikinis above his desk.  And I watched as he and his co-worker lit a coconut and smashed it outside, lit a lime and set it out side of the door and wandered the tiny room with incense.  But I did not have my camera.

Dinnertime.  The hard drive arrived.  Decision time. Internally I am debating, do I follow my inbred instincts or reconsider them based on my experiences in the shop?  Should I be wary or trust the situation? I bought it.  For a good savings compared to the fancier shop.  And we went wading off to find a rickshaw and get home.

I was thirty minutes later for dinner.  No one minded, even though the family waited for me. And of course the hard drive works just fine.