The Cocoon : A Barbaric Tribe
People jeered at him wherever he went. Perhaps it was because of his physique : At 5'1", with hairline receding faster than the low tide during full moon, a potbelly that belied his claims of not earning enough to feed himself and the shabby clothes he wore, the man was not menacing enough in the otherwise feared collector community . Shetra, as he was called, was the unofficial jester in the midst of all the business, hullabaloo and consternation that happened throughout the day in the cocoon. There were constant jibes about his virility, and as a consequence, his wife's fidelity as he went about his job. This was especially remarkable given the job he had been entrusted by his yejman; that of a collection man.
The environment in the cocoon when a collection man would appear suddenly seemed to change. A silent hush would descend, all businesses would be left in the lurch and existing valued customers would be asked to wait as all the inhabitants would scrounge from each shops to keep the threat of being blacklisted at bay. The important thing was keeping themselves from being blacklisted, especially from the cigarette companies, the old chacha told me. Seeing the nonplussed expression on my face, he went on to elaborate that cigarettes were the first thing people asked for at a shop. As an inhabitant ( and a successful one) at the cocoon, one had to have a ready stock. This gave you the opening into the customer's list and his share of wallet. Thus, the collection man for the cigarette company was crucial, he said as he sipped on his suleiman, as his veto could block an inhabitant from the most important item required for his survival in the cocoon.
The collection man for the leading cigarette company seemed to have been aptly chosen for the job. Dwarfing others by his sheer physical presence, the first thing he managed to do was create an aura of , well almost, fear. His gruff voice and no-nonsense attitude added to this intimidation. He managed to collect all he wanted in one go, without even uttering a word in most cases. Even in case of defaults, his silence was the most grotesque of acts. All he would do would be to make a tiny red dot next to the inhabitants name on the collection sheet he carried; this ensured a cut of supplies for a week. A couple of inhabitants had been eradicated because of an act so insignificant, yet so barbaric. This success story had created a tribe of such collection men; menacing, ruthless, almost sadistic in nature. The chacha chuckled almost as sadistically as one of them as we saw in one shop, the last notes being taken out of the drawer, only to watch in despair as the dreaded red ink put a tiny blot on the scrap of paper.
In this midst was an outcast - Shetra, the laughing stock for none of his fault.That made me wonder, why was he still doing this and what made his yejman keep him?
The environment in the cocoon when a collection man would appear suddenly seemed to change. A silent hush would descend, all businesses would be left in the lurch and existing valued customers would be asked to wait as all the inhabitants would scrounge from each shops to keep the threat of being blacklisted at bay. The important thing was keeping themselves from being blacklisted, especially from the cigarette companies, the old chacha told me. Seeing the nonplussed expression on my face, he went on to elaborate that cigarettes were the first thing people asked for at a shop. As an inhabitant ( and a successful one) at the cocoon, one had to have a ready stock. This gave you the opening into the customer's list and his share of wallet. Thus, the collection man for the cigarette company was crucial, he said as he sipped on his suleiman, as his veto could block an inhabitant from the most important item required for his survival in the cocoon.
The collection man for the leading cigarette company seemed to have been aptly chosen for the job. Dwarfing others by his sheer physical presence, the first thing he managed to do was create an aura of , well almost, fear. His gruff voice and no-nonsense attitude added to this intimidation. He managed to collect all he wanted in one go, without even uttering a word in most cases. Even in case of defaults, his silence was the most grotesque of acts. All he would do would be to make a tiny red dot next to the inhabitants name on the collection sheet he carried; this ensured a cut of supplies for a week. A couple of inhabitants had been eradicated because of an act so insignificant, yet so barbaric. This success story had created a tribe of such collection men; menacing, ruthless, almost sadistic in nature. The chacha chuckled almost as sadistically as one of them as we saw in one shop, the last notes being taken out of the drawer, only to watch in despair as the dreaded red ink put a tiny blot on the scrap of paper.
In this midst was an outcast - Shetra, the laughing stock for none of his fault.That made me wonder, why was he still doing this and what made his yejman keep him?
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