Festival time is 'baksheesh' time. And, in aamchi Mumbai, it's not too difficult to appeal to people's sense of generosity.
Festival time is 'baksheesh' time. And, in aamchi Mumbai, it's not too difficult to appeal to people's sense of generosity. MiD DAY reporters Varun Singh and Ranjeet Jadhav tried gatecrashing into homes, shops and offices yesterday, angling for some Diwali baksheesh.
Some simply refused and instead doled out advice on how "youngsters should work instead of wangling easy money", others slipped out a tenner or two and waved them off, no questions asked.
Not only did our reporters return the baksheesh, they even handed over a MiD DAY goodie bag to the donor.
Festival time bonhomie, folks. Here's an account of their baksheesh visits, straight from the horses' mouths...
'No baksheesh. Nikal jaao'
Fort, 2:45 pm
We gingerly step into to a shop selling artefacts, and introduce ourselves to an attendant as the chaps who paint streets and signal posts for US President Obama's visit.
"No, no. No giving baksheesh-waksheesh. Nikal jaao idhar se," he says, herding us out of the shop.
Quick to follow is an elderly gentleman (the shop owner, we later learnt). Livid, he mumbled something about the country being caught in the throes of corruption and how "you young people ask for baksheesh. Sharam nahi aati kya?"
The litany of talks on morality and scruples continued with some tantrums thrown in for good measure. We chose to shut our mouths and move out before getting into any sort of trouble.
'We don't entertain others'Kalbadevi, 3.30pm
We hop into an electronics shop and ask the manager, Devang Shah, for baksheesh. We identify ourselves as contractors getting roads painted for Obama's visit.
The manager steps in and resurfaces with his top boss. "Sorry, we give baksheesh only to the postman and our courier boys. We don't entertain others," said Shah.
We then reveal our identity to Shah who is shocked and amused.
"Here Mr Devang Shah, a MiD DAY goodie bag for you. And yes, Happy Diwali."
Rs 20 for 'machchar bhagao' workersMarine Lines, 4.05 pm
We entered an old building on Queen's Road. We zero in on a particular house and ring the bell. A young lady opens the door and we tell here that we are from the mosquito census department. As she stares incredulously, we remind her about the recent malaria epidemic.
She goes inside and fetches a Rs-20 note. "Yeh loh." When we told her that we were reporters from MiD DAY, she broke into peals of laughter. "I'm Tanushree Kumar. Happy Diwali to you," she said, accepting the MiD DAY goodie bag with a huge smile.
'Hamara photo chhapega kya?'Naigaum, 4.55 pm
We get into Chhapra Estate building near Dadar station (E) and go to the first floor where is putting up a kandeel outside her home.
"Madam, we're from the air pollution department. Diwali baksheesh," as we raise our right hand to the forehead in a respectful salute.
Sejal Jain stares in amazement, trying to take in the name of that unheard-of department, then hurries inside the house and returns with her mother-in-law who insists on checking our identity cards.
A bit of cajoling and coaxing works and she agrees to give us Rs 20. We give her a MiD DAY goodie bag and reveal our identities. "Hamara photo paper mein chhapega kya?" is the first thing we're asked.
A disgusted look and some moneyDadar, 5.35 pm
"Baksheesh? Air pollution department?"
It's the manager of a garment factory who sounds wary of us. "Why don't I ever see any of your department employees working?" We trot out some lame explanation about our staff coming out only when people burst crackers.
Doesn't work.
And then, with much reluctance and a scowl on his face, the manager, Nimesh Thakkar, parts with Rs 20 baksheesh. We return it and hand over the goodie bag. Thakkar's thrilled.
"You know, I'm a huge fan of your sister publication Gujarati MiD DAY..."
