Welcome to Village

I looked at my watch. It’s 1:45 pm, yet one more hour to go. I am sitting in the class of ‘Marketing in Rural India’ where my professor is delineating various aspects of country’s rural places and demographics. The class is discussing rural people’s disposable income, buying behavior, socio-economic classification etc.

“As per the data the penetration of color TV in rural India is… percentage of village electrified… percentage of household availing electricity… What does this suggest about …” And the class debate is active with lots of data, opinions, questions and cross questions which is well facilitated by our professor.

I wondered how astonished a village person would have been if he came to know that how extensively we tried to understand their market. Because for him the market is simply a weekly haat, a few kirana shop, few tea stalls, a couple of small medicine kiosk, few confectionery primarily sweets and few stalls of chat-pakaura. The village person wondered: What is there to discuss in it so extensively? We get everything we require and a few items which are not available, we can get it from the nearby town; straight and simple.

Is it as simple as put by the village person? Or is it complex enough to muddle our heads in all sorts of available data? I recall a quote by Aaron Levenstein- “Statistics are like bikinis; what they reveal is suggestive, what they hide is vital.”

I used to visit my ancestral village during my summer vacations when I was in school. Recently I visited my native village after four years. It is located in the Sahibganj district of Jharkhand on the bank of river Ganga. Yes, I know you are tempted to say that Ganga crosses Bihar along its width. No. It touches Jharkhand at the north eastern point and there lies my village. For those who have seen villages through the windows of trains or perceive villages to be a congested rural place in urban cities or think villages to be like those depicted in the movies directed by Aditya Chopra, then you have not got even half the picture.

The first thing that pulls me to the village is the joy of joint family; three generations living under one roof in the big house. The space from the boundary wall to the gate of the house is sufficient enough to play cricket for us cousins. And in the backside you have mango orchid. My uncle would make it a point that we all knew the names of different varieties of mangoes, which are differentiated by size, color, texture, smell and yes of course taste. Whenever there was a storm, the orchid would be full of mangoes littering on the ground. Then few poor kids from the village would volunteer to collect all and bring it to my aunt, who would in turn generously give any amount of mango they would like to carry back to their home. The kids would typically hold their frock or shirt to make it a bowl shaped and would fill it with mangoes. This process has not changed since years. Faces have changed.

This time I wanted to explore the psyche of village persons. I wanted to make friends with very poor people; in our jargon we classify them in D or E in socio-economic classification (SEC). You will get people from these clusters in cities, mostly labors, but I don’t consider them to be the true representatives of this class. The city labors are not the free self; instead they are objectified as human machines. To understand the SEC E, in context of rural marketing, I believe we need to go to the village.

When I revealed my plan to my elder cousin, he wondered what I was up to. Then he said- “You can take my car, and take a trip to entire village. Will you be able to drive in this place? You know, any time any pot bellied kid will just run across the street. That run will be a total surprise to you. And they won’t care about your horn.”

Yes this is a typical feature in villages. If any kid sees a car they try to go to where his/her mother is, no matter where she is standing. Or they try to cross the road before the car crosses it. They find it fun! Even the domestic animals like hen, duck, calf, goat etc do the same. I had a bad encounter in my approximately 100 kilometers of cumulative rural road travel experience. A hen crossed the road. Or should I say, couldn’t cross the road! I could have applied brake had I saw it. It started its run at a time when it was out of my line of sight; probably interested in putting its beak in my car’s tire. I had to pay thrice the amount to get away with it. Reason: it would have laid eggs in future which are lost now. Correct, in our jargon, we call it net present value (NPV) of future earnings! Welcome to village.

“Why don’t you take the bike instead?” my cousin asked.

But I had something different in mind. I wanted to go on foot. It will give me a real connect. I started moving towards the bank of the river. The road turns right and then it runs parallel to the shore. The road is elevated to approximately 3 meters from the shore level; probably to check the river water flooding the village in the rainy season. In the summers, the shore line is approximately 15-20 meters away from the road. I saw a few persons sitting on a ‘machaan’ and playing cards. ‘Machaan’ or bamboo deck is a flat square structure of one to two square meters made of bamboo. It is supported by again bamboo on the four side of the square structure. One side faces the road at a height of 1 meter and other side has depth of 3-4 meters. The summer evening on the shore of river was never such pleasant. The cool and humid breeze made me wonder whether it was summer!

I started talking to a person there, about the places to visit here, about their occupation etc. The primary occupation here is farming. They generally work in their small farmland or they work as farm labor to landlords. Others are tractor drivers, mechanics, fisherman and small traders. The place is almost isolated from other world. No newspaper, electricity for 2 to 3 hours a day, so no TV news. But I felt good about it; here I had nothing to worry about! It stroked me; how advertisements reach such places? It motivated me to go to a ‘kirana’ shop to see their SKU (Stock keeping units). It is not that I have never been there; but I have never bothered to see the various brands there. I forwarded towards a shop nearby. As I reached there the shopkeeper recognized me and offered me a seat. A bench outside any shop is common here. For the sake of buying I just bought a cake of soap. All the FMCG (fast moving consumer goods) products present were of lower volume packs. Shampoos were in sachet only. No offer packs of soap were available (buy 3 get 1 free of kind). Biscuits ranging from price Rs 2 to Rs 20 were present. I sat there for some time. I found that people were not demanding anything specifically by the name of brands. Instead they said give me a soap or shampoo; whatever shopkeeper gave, they took it. Biscuits were demanded on the price of it. Like biscuit of Rs 5 or Rs 10 etc. Mobile recharge was also available there. I heard the first brand name ‘Vodafone’. Also the board above the store displayed the same name. So communication can penetrate at this level, so why only telecoms not FMCG, given that they have always been forerunner in advertisement. One reason can be the overall revenue is not enough to support any kind of advertisement. So who decides what will be sold here? Only answer to this is, I believe, the strength of your distribution channel and the margins provided to shopkeepers and wholesalers. There were other villagers sitting on the bench and talking about politics. I was only intermittent participant in their discussion, probably because of lack of knowledge of their local political figures and local issues. But I wanted to listen. I took a cup of tea from a nearby stall. Their conversation was mostly related to a particular person rather than on political party as a whole. It was based on core and grass-root issues which bothered them as village person. I tried to give input of some overall picture, but they were reluctant to discuss that. Macro-part of politics never surfaced. I wonder whether those super hyped campaign carried out by political party ever reach such places; the places which have almost 70% of the electorate. No wonder some of the most hyped political campaign like ‘India Shining’ fell flat on the face. Recently, Congress, who has positioned itself as pro-poor and is banking on poor’s vote bank, gives comment like “Poverty is a state of mind” and “Dalits need escape velocity of Jupiter to come out of poverty”. These geeky comments are not understood by 70% of the people and mocked by rest 30%. Anyway, my cup of tea was over. I called it a day and went home.

I stayed there for one week with a purpose to delve deep into village psyche. I made friends there. I visited the school and even took a few classes! They had a different level of contentment in their life. Marketing can be a difficult task under such environment. The basic essence of marketing is to show benefit and value proposed in the form of a product, service, experience, style etc. But if the targeted customer is content and non-aspirational, the criteria of marketing itself narrows. To add more the disposable income is also low. Probably that is the reason HUL went through the route of social benefit with its project Shakti and Khusiyon ki doli for rural marketing. Situation is very different and so is the marketing initiative. I guess, the rural India will give the marketing as a subject enough scope to evolve. Yes, a lot of things to learn in rural marketing.

"Hey, you, what do you think about the methods of communication strategy to be adopted in the rural India?” My professor asked pointing towards me. Oh yes, I am attending the class of ‘Marketing in Rural India’. I replied, “The conventional way of communication is not feasible in such places. We should instead….” The unending discussions continued.

An Introvert Flirt!

I checked my name in the reservation list pasted outside my coach. The first seat of the coach was mine. I put my only backpack on the small desk protruded from the wall of the coach. I checked time, still ten minutes to go. What to do? Let’s check my co-passengers. You know! I came out of my coach, standing in front of the list, moved my fingers vertically: M,M,M,F,M,M. Then horizontally  F, 23, Komal.

Earlier in all my journeys I was always accompanied by ladies with wailing kids; as if a very well planned conspiracy by IRCTC. But the vital data ‘23’ suggests that this time my journey won’t be a cacophony; on the contrary it may be an interesting one, only if she was not a victim of child marriage. Just joking. I always wanted to have some story to brag among my friends; the typical journey story with a guy and a girl accidentally sitting beside each other. Alas! These are only creative pieces of some script writers’ imagination. Well, at least till now! This coincidence was meant to be. As Shahrukh Khan said, “When you want something, whole universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” Oh sorry, it was Paulo Coelho.

My thoughts were disrupted by the lead protagonist of this story. Oh gosh! She was beautiful. She entered with a heavy bag and a purse which slipped down to her wrist from her shoulder. As she put the bag on the floor and left the handle, the purse fell down. She bent down to pick the purse; her long, loose, straightened hair shadowed her face. As her right hand picked the purse, her left hand fixed the hair behind her ears. Her ears bore an earring, a circular golden metal with small bell. I was tempted to touch the small bell to check whether it really rings. For me everything was in slow motion; very slow. As I was examining her earring, I sensed she has ceased to move. Then she looked up towards me. Oh Shit! I looked away instantly. I looked outside the glass window, as if I was religiously enjoying the scene at station.

“Excuse me.” She said.

Dhak! My heart beat stopped for a moment. Was she offended? I didn't know. But I wish she had not worn that earring.

“Yes” I replied with an indifferent expression on my face but with a mixed emotions of fear and anxiety within.

“Can you please move your legs for a moment; I want to put my bag below the seat.”

“Thank God” I murmured with exaltation.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing” With this I just stood up and moved away.

Within few minutes, two other passengers arrived. Rest two, I guess, missed their train. The two protagonists of the story were occupying the window seats. The compartment was silent. I had only five to six hours for conversation if any, if I wanted to have even an iota of story. I have always been a poor player in this regard. I was missing two of my friends; Rahul Kumar from engineering college and Rishi Gupta at MBA College. Both of them have an expertise of initiating talks with any girl. I tried to use the luxury of taking talks further. Anyway, I was on my own, and this was going to be MY story! I boosted myself.

I looked at my watch. It had been two hours. Only the other two passengers were talking that too intermittently. Chugging of train was sprinkled with the sound of cracking chips by her glistening lips. With every cracking sound of chips, her ear ring  swung. I was extra alert to listen; does the bell really ring! I looked at her covertly. She was wearing Kurta, Jeans and a few bangles. And yes, a pair of ear rings. The simplicity of carrying her profound beauty was incredible. The more I saw her, the more I admired her. But sheer admiration is not going to help, that too strictly inexpressive admiration. I mustered all my courage and said, “Where are you going? Patna?”

She replied with half a smile, “I guess this non-stop train goes to Patna.”

With this question I got the right to look at her non-covertly for a few seconds. The width of her smile was perfect and only right cheek was used for the purpose. I don’t know who but, I recall, someone said that the side to which smile spreads says a lot about the person. As per his theory, the girl uses her right brain more than her left. Was this some kind of big bang theory? I didn't know. But if I were to believe him, the girl in front of me, was more artistic than logical. Perfect!

I replied, “Oh yes, Of course. The train is on time it will be there by 8 in the morning I guess. ”

“Hmm, I wish so. But after Kanpur it generally delays. I saw data on the internet for last one week. As per that I think it will be delayed by 2 hours.” She said.

Come on, you can’t be logical. You were supposed to be artistic and creative kind of girl. I was expecting an answer like ‘It is not the duration but the journey that matters’. Whatever, I found it the opportune moment for introduction.

“Hi, I am Shwetank” I said with a dilemma, whether to forward my hand for a shake. I restrained.

“Hi I am Komal. So where do you live in Patna?” she asked.

“I don’t. I have some work for a day, after that I will catch a train to Banka? It’s a place near Bhagalpur”

“Hmmm”

With this, conversation ended and I again started looking across the translucent window. And she continued with the remaining chips in her packet. Unable to find any new topic, I engaged myself with my own thoughts.

Yet another two hour passed. Silence in the compartment was no longer awkward; it became one of the salient features of the place. Sometimes I wonder why I am unable to be expressive in my opinions. During my classes at MBA College, whole class had to undergo a MBTI test. It is a test which categorizes your personality traits. No wonder my result showed Introvert! But breaking the shackles of introvert-ism was key here. Have I been always like this? 

I looked back into my life, the day when I was in school in class five or six. I was always very silent kind of guy in the class. In my class there was a girl. Of course I won’t name her here. Let her be Aisha. I never talked with her. You know why, ‘the introvert’. I would never forget that day. I was sitting just behind Aisha. Suddenly the voice came.

“Those who have not brought the book. Stand up.” The teacher said in his tyrant voice.

Oh god. I didn't have the book. I looked around. One by one, students were getting up. I had no choice but to stand up. I didn’t fear the punishment; but in front of her, no. Someone please save me; I begged. First-benchers had typical habit of turning around to see who all are going to be punished. I was about to get up. She turned around. I sat again. She sensed my movement.

She said looking at my desk, “Even you have not brought the book?”

I could not speak. You know why, ‘the introvert’. The word ‘even’ used in her speech was really insulting for me at that point of time. I just nodded my head in 'no'. She smiled. Very cleverly she transferred the book from her desk to mine.

And said, “Don’t worry. Sir won’t tell me anything. ”

Yes, I know. She won’t be punished. She was typically excluded from any sorts of punishment. Anyway, I was saved. Shouldn't it be a situation where a guy saves a girl? It was opposite! But the book…

“Excuse me. Can I have that book?”

“What?” I replied.

“I mean the magazine. Can I borrow that, if you are not reading?”

I came to myself. I realized that I was in a train and in front of me was Komal.

“Oh! Sure, why not? It’s ‘India Today’. You like politics.”

“Not fond of. But I am not apolitical.”

Logical, Political… lady you are going away from my perceived characters of you.

After half an hour, the ordered railway food arrived. She had not ordered anything. She took out her lunch box. There were ‘Parathas’ wrapped in aluminum foil, ‘aloo bhujia’ and pickles. It looked tastier than my railway meal. Anyways, I had to do with what I had. I again started to admire the elegance with which she took her food. She took small pieces of Paratha which she easily chewed with subtle and sexy movement of her cheeks, apparently. I counted; literally, she divided one Paratha into eight crumbs. I would have taken that in three or at max four. I looked at my Paratha. Needless to explain, we all have at some point of time eaten that pathetic food.

"Do you want some paratha?" She asked.

Why did she ask me? Probably she had more than she could consume. Or she saw me gazing at her Paratha! I don't know why, but I felt that later was the case. If that's true, then it's bad.

"It's good, at least better than your railway food." She added sensing my pause.

"No no it's ok. What shall you have then?"

"I have many. At least take one."

I picked one. Its taste was really good. But wait, how did she know that I was looking at her food. She never looked at me. Do women really have broader sight as compared to men? I heard that quite a time but never bothered to take it seriously. In that case, am I sure she didn't know while I was looking at her earring when her purse fell on the floor? Am I sure she didn't notice me watching her, so called covertly, when she was enjoying her chips. I don't know how but suddenly I started feeling numb and cold.

"Are you all right?" She asked.

"Yes, I am OK."

It took me time to come to normalcy. It was time to sleep now. We all prepared our bed and soon everyone was fast asleep. I kept on pondering on different moments as spent. The very essence of introvert-ism comes from the complexity of unnecessary thought process. It gives you a good power of imagination. But this imagination weaves a fabric of hypothetical situation which can be tough for even an extrovert to handle. And thus it can be said with a fair degree of accuracy that an introvert is better at handling such situations, if real. I knew this was the end of my story. I guess universe didn't conspired honestly in helping me to achieve what I wanted. I knew the freshly sprouted hopes of friendship would die a nascent death.

“Hey, get up.” A sweet voice woke me up. It was her.

“It’s time... We are in Patna.” She said gently.

I looked around. Train was at station. The other two passengers had left. I looked at my watch. It was 8:30 in the morning. She had already packed her belongings and ready to leave.

“Be quick or you will land up in the yards.” She said with little worry, watching me lazy.

“Thanks” I said.

With this she picked her bag and moved towards exit. She was carrying her heavy bag with great effort. I quickly came out of my blanket and offered her my help.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh! Thank you."

Each one of us held one handle of her bag and moved towards exit. We put her bag on the platform, and then I returned to my seat to collect my bag. There was a great urge in me to say her, ‘Let's meet again (given that I would have been in Patna for the day)’. But I didn't. You know why, ‘the introvert’.