He was dark complexioned, middle aged with a black beard, which exhibited traces of white. His clothes and skin matched very well and it sometimes was very hard to figure out where the clothes ended and the skin began. The colour of his dress never varied. Some think that there could be two reasons for that although I am not too sure. He either has too many pairs stitched of the same colour or it could be that the he liked the dress so much that the thought of changing it never crossed his mind. Maybe he didn’t have another pair. That is another possibility.

He believed in balancing his work life and personal life and every moment at work was a challenge. Looking at him at work would make one realize the truth in the saying, “Work is Worship”. From my observations, I am inclined to believe that he is a master salesman. Watching him was watching the guru at work. He believed in the dictum “Be Vocal. Speak Global.” His wife adored him. I am not very sure of the whereabouts of his children. Maybe he has sent to other institutions of higher learning to understand the implications of the disruptive technologies in his line of business. His family life was a poem of love. During dinnertime, his wife would roll the rice along with the curry into small balls and lovingly plonk them into his mouth and he would reciprocate in similar fashion.

Many others in his profession looked upto him for sage advice and during breaks he would offer them a tip or two about the importance of segmentation and location. But I don’t think he ever read any bestselling books on sales by Joe Girard or any of C.K.Prahalad’s seminal works. During the summer months, he would have loads of relatives visiting him. He would conduct summer camps educating his younger kin-folk on the importance of time-management, being at the right place at the right time and the right way to target repeat customers. As all professionals he had a thick skin. He never let failure deter him. Every person who he met was a potential customer and his pitched hard to ensure success. He understood the power of language and so had picked up English in addition to knowing a smattering of a few other foreign languages. He loved monopolizing the markets that he worked in and employed means-both fair and foul to drive away competition. After all, All is fair in business and war. I guess he never could differentiate between the two going by the passion with which he went about his work. It was war called by a different name and he would use both tantra and mantra to succeed.

I don’t remember his name. Maybe it’s because I never knew his name in the first place. He was a man who believed in living a Spartan life. His only visible earthly possessions included his special cycle, an old box that contained his family wardrobe and some plastic sheets that he used to shape his tent-like dwelling. This resident of Kadugodi, a goldmine of management wisdom would surely give management consultants a run for their money if he ever changed his profession. But currently he doesn’t seem to be inclined and so the management consultants can rest in peace. God save them if he ever changes his mind, then they better get ready to rust in pieces.

My first encounter with him was an year ago. He was walking out from a shop with a packet of milk in his hand presumably to make his morning cuppa of tea. During the evening, I found him sitting on his tricycle by the side of the road. He had held his hand out and passers-by were filling it up with coins of various denominations. I was intrigued at this metamorphosis and did some more enquiries. Most of the residents were not very sure of when he had made Kadugodi his home. He seemed to be a regular fixture on the same spot by the road-side. One of them told me that he too like many of us, was just a creation of circumstances. It seems that there was a political meeting nearby a few years back and they were giving away tricycles to all handicapped persons who had come. This person, who was just a loafer was also passing along that way. Seeing the assembly, he pushed his way through the crowd and reached the front. He then stumbled on some stones lying there and fell headlong on to the feet of the politician who was in the act of giving away these tricycles. When he picked himself up, he limped in pain. This was interpreted as a sign of lameness by the politician who gave away the next tricycle to him. It was then that the thought of converting this stray incident into a life-making opportunity struck him. Amidst the resounding cheers of the crowd, he took the most momentous decision of his life. He decided on the profession that would shape his future- Begging.

And thus began a journey in which he has played various shades of the same character depending on the season and environment. The global village phenomenon has begun to make itself felt in his begging sphere with a couple of foreigners jumping into the fray. It remains to be seen how the hometown hero combats these new entrants. Will he get into joint ventures with them or muscle them out or be eliminated in this struggle for garnering market share? Only time shall reveal the landscape of the future. As regards me, I am betting on him to innovate and survive.