My shop called 'sarcastic counter'

I once ran a shop called ‘sarcastic counter’. The shop was reasonably famous. It got people from every corner of the world. I held myself considerably gentle to them. Even though the shop’s name contained the word sarcasm, but I never allowed its shadow to fall on the business, some rules I did follow. I treated my customers as God, prayed for them that when they use my product, they shouldn’t get sarcastic. Instead, I wished them to laugh, to think, to delve and if nothing then just to make it a memoir and keep it in one of their showcases at home.

Then something happened, a very interesting story, I shall tell you now.

The lane was called Bhutwa-Gali, at the end of which I ran my quiet little shop. A famous astrologer once had said that my shop had a demi-Godly presence, he called it ROS. I asked about it, but he said only time would tell. I guess he was right.

That was a Saturday night, and as usual I was making my sarcastic ‘philvotica’ for the Sunday,  the day when customers came to shop in large numbers. I would clean my show-table and arrange all my sarcastic ‘philvotica’, of all shades and textures, which they could touch and feel and if satisfied then only buy. I am still open-minded in these manners. I didn’t ditch my customers.

It was quarter past ten in the night when I heard him approach my shop. He was in his late thirties, wore dark colored jeans and white shirt, his neat shave and well trimmed hair posed elegance, his proximity told he must have used a very costly perfume. He told his name as Blogspot and that he was a close relative of Google. The name was familiar and so I gazed on my memory lane a bit to accustom myself more. Google those days was called the businessman of the century. His sharp eyes could search it all. He had this habit cultured since he was a kid. Well, by then he was the master of all.

Blogspot had a proposition for me. I would have to hand over all my sarcastic ‘philvotica’ to him and in return he would guarantee me a good showcase and even better customer base. The deal sounded attractive and I signed the agreement.

Just some days back, I heard about him. He was found dead on one of the servers. There was a huge hue and cry from all whose products he had taken. I too got anxious. So I went to see his office. There I saw a mess. People were fighting over products, some were even abusing and hitting others. In the midst of all I saw one of my ‘philvotica’ lying on the floor. I picked it up with care and started to move out. Just while I was coming out from the office, I thought of finally visiting his personal cabin. I went there and saw his photograph framed and poised on the wall. I neared it with an injunction I didn’t know. And then suddenly I saw him wink! Yes, the photograph winked at me. I stared onto those eyes for a moment and again, he winked again. This time he giggled too! My head was going all awry and I thought of leaving the place. I turned back and just when I was about the keep the first step, he spoke. Yes, I heard him very clearly. I didn’t had the courage to turn back, but I heard it all. He said, ‘I am not dead. I am hiding; because of the fear of WordPress. He is searching me everywhere with a naked sword. He is even killing my apps mercilessly. His faster and slimmer page loads a lot faster than mine and that’s how he has been erasing my presence from the market. Things have worsened to the extent that now he can directly hunt and finish me. Even my relative Google didn’t help. And I will tell you one more thing. It is all because of Google only. How? Well, these are the inherent relationship drabs that slowly forces one to break out. He took the first step. One more fact that I have never shared with anybody else, Google is spying! Think over it. Okay I have to leave now. And yes, your ‘Philvotica’ were really amazing.’

The whole return journey I kept thinking about what he said. Finally, when I reached home I made up my mind. I took all my ‘Philvoticas’ and burned them. The ashes I flowed in the dirty drain in my backyard. I was reviving. ‘Philvoticas’ were no longer genuine. They were mashed and blended with Google’s spices. They were not my products anymore. I was sad but at the same time happy as well as motivated to do something else, something more genuine. I re-painted the shop’s name as ‘ROS Store’, and renamed my products as ‘Saturn Rings’. I manufactured it the same way, but I was happy being alone, not being societal. I created better ‘Saturn Rings’ than any ‘Philvotica’. In the night I had a sound sleep, satisfied and calm. Of course the day was yet to come, but I was prepared.

In my dreams, that astrologer came and said, ‘I told you. Your shop has an ROS. And all this happening has got a meaning, which you could have never understood in the flashiness of Life’s bizarre games. You have to play, you don’t have a choice, but you have to do it your way. You aren’t made to collate. You will have to move alone. You will always search for happiness, something that stays with you only, much inside you, in your aloofness. You can rise in freedom; rise in satisfaction, but not in fame, neither in popularity. You will make what your heart wants to, not what the world demands. And someday you will be known for this. That would be fame, but not something that you have been running after.’