Manjunath
Manjunath was 13 years old. His father was a filter coffee Master at a South Indian restaurant in Jayanagar. There was a time when they lived a comfortable life in south Bangalore. But now, migrant workers, who work for much less have flooded the restaurant workforce, forcing salaries to go down. Now, they could only afford a house in the outskirts.
Manjunath hated these outsiders. But he was smart. He wanted to work hard and get a job in a tech park. Where they work in an AC office and have to wear shoes and an ID card. But he didn’t know how. All the area boys were Uber drivers or swiggy delivery boys. They made good money at one point. But it wasn’t just about the money for Manjunath. It was about respect. He wanted to wear a formal shirt, sit in an AC office, and work in front of a laptop.
One day he had to go to the other side of town to deal with a gang fight for some of his area boys. He usually travels with his friend on his scooter, but was away and so had to take a bus. As he was waiting, he saw an AC Volvo bus pull up right in front of him. He had never travelled on one of those before. He was not even sure if he had enough cash on him for the ticket, but a rush of madness came over him and he boarded the bus. He walked along the length of the bus until he reached the very back, and on both sides of him, he found IT workers, sitting with their ID cards on, clutching their backpacks and with headphones plugged into their ears.
He found an empty seat and made himself comfortable. He was fidgeting and playing around with the AC on the roof when he heard someone speak in Kannada right in front of him. There was this tall man dressed impeccably in typical IT attire, but speaking in his native tongue on the phone.
As soon as he cut the call, Manjunath lept from his seat and introduced himself to the gentleman. Turns out, his name was Manjunath as well, and he worked for Accenture. Manjunath was very pleased and impressed. Manjunath was delighted by his excitement and was happy to make acquaintance. Manjunath barraged him with all the questions he had about working in IT and how he got there.
In his eyes, Manjunath was a god. He had risen from the streets of Bangalore and got into an IT job. But Manjunath did not seem to share the same enthusiasm. He seems to have a disdain for the IT industry. He complained of stress and politics and pressure - which made no sense to Manjunath.
So he finally asked him point blank, “If you only complain about work, where will we poor people and all go? You work at Accenture. What can be better than this?”
Manjunath looked at him with pleasant surprise. “Bro nowadays IT industry itself is down. Not like before. What you are talking is olden days. Now everybody wants to go to start-up only. I have a friend who works for a start-up in Koramanagala. They pay him One lakh per month, bro. They also give him apple computer, iwatch, iphone, everything. But you need to know latest technology for startup bro. Mostly north Indians only they take. Namma ooru boys and all very rare bro”
Manjunath's pupils dilated. He did not speak for some time. Could it be possible? Something better than IT? More respect than a tech park job? He felt like his reality had been shattered. For the next 10 minutes, he begged Manjunath to introduce him to his other friend who worked for a start-up. Although reluctant at first, Manjunath’s enthusiasm appealed to him. After all, if we don't help our own boys who will?
Two hours later, Manjunath was in Koramangala, waiting on the first floor of Starbucks. This was his first time visiting a Starbucks outlet and he could not be more uncomfortable. The 10 minutes that he sat there waiting, he was constantly anxious that someone would throw him out. The place was packed with people staring into Macbooks. There were a few couples here and there. Finally, a short, unshaven man walked in. He was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and wore flip-flops. “Hello, my name is Manjunath,” he said, extending his hand.
“Hi bro, my name is also Manjunath bro” Manjunath replied, shaking his hands. When Manjunath had told him about his friend, he imagined someone dressed in a suit, carrying a black briefcase. Definitely, not this shabby vagabond who sat in front of him.
Manjunath bought them both a cappuccino. While they waited for their coffee, Manjunath tried to make small talk with him. Talking about the traffic and how driving was a paid nowadays in Bangalore. Manjunath nodded along although he couldn’t relate to any of that.
At first, Manjunath was a little reluctant. But he realised he had nothing to lose, worst case, he got a free coffee at this expensive place. If he is really getting paid a Lakh, he can dress however he wants.
So he told him about his bus ride and how he met Manjunath. And how he was also a local boy and wanted to get a start-up job. Manjunath heard him out and then responded, “Bro in start-up and all your degree doesn’t matter. It is all about skill. If you can code well means you will get paid. So work on up-skill yourself. Always have to be updated.”
Manjunath asked him a bunch of questions to which Manjunath responded patiently. In the middle of the conversation, Manjunath got a call. He pulled out his iPhone and whispered into it for just a few seconds.
“Bro, some issue in the app it seems. I need to urgently connect. You message me bro, I will guide you.” He said as he gathered his belongings, and quickly rushed out.
Manjunath remained in his seat, sipping his coffee. From the glass pane on his left, he could see the street outside the cafe. As he sat staring outside, he saw Manjunath emerge on the pavement, and walk up to an auto rickshaw parked next to the cafe. He watched as Manjunath frantically convinced him to offer a ride. But the auto anna didn’t even flinch. He continued to smoke his beedi, unmoved by Manjunath’s argument.
Manujanth sat in his seat for the next half an hour observing this auto. This guy hadn’t moved in ages. During that time several people had approached him for a ride. He saw hip college girls, well-dressed IT employees, and even an old couple. No one could seem to convince him to offer a ride.
Finally, after about 30 minutes. A fair, tall man in a grey suit appeared, carrying a black briefcase. He was clean-shaven and wore black sunglasses. Everything about him screamed respect and power. He walked with a sense of purpose and determination.
He stopped near the auto and asked him for a ride. As usual, the auto Anna remained unfazed. After a subtle sideways nod, he turned away and continued to puff on his beedi. But the man in the suit wouldn’t give up so easily. From Manjunath’s view, all he could see was the man in the suit waving and pointing his hands, possibly convincing him that his destination wasn’t too far. A moment later, he pulled out a wallet from his suit and was seen waving a crisp 500 rupee note at him. And yet, the auto Anna did not break character.
To Manjunath’s surprise, the man in the suit put his hands together and pleaded to take him. Although Manjunath couldn’t hear what he said, it was apparent that he was close to begging. But nothing could move the auto. Defeated, the man in the suit picked up his briefcase and continued walking.
Manjunath was shell-shocked. He rushed downstairs, ran straight to the auto and stood in front of him. He was a man in his late 50s, with greying hair and, a khaki uniform. He was watching a dance reel on his phone. He did not even turn to face Manjunath, who stood there awkwardly waiting until he was noticed.
“Ei what do you want? Leave me alone.” The auto driver said in Kannada.
“I have been observing you,” Manjunath responded back in Kannada. “You have rejected every single person who asked for a ride. I was wondering why you do that.”
The auto driver gave out a loud thundering laugh. “These outsiders, they come to our city and walk around with their fancy clothes, looking like they are some big shots. That’s why. Just to show them who the real boss is. It’s not about the money, it’s about respect.”
The auto driver returned his attention to his smartphone while Manjunath stood frozen. Could it be? This man right here has more respect than IT people? Even more than the start-up guys? Who is this man? How do I become like him?
“What is your name Anna?” Manjunath asked solemnly.
The auto driver turned, and responded with a wide smile, “My name is Manjunath. What’s yours?”