Sales Boy: The Story Of A Little Boy's First Adventure In Selling Merchandise

Sajid had barely got home from school when his mother said, "Have your lunch quickly, then go and help your father on the shikara."

Sajid nodded, then hurried to dump his school bag in a corner of the small room. He quickly washed his hands and took his plate from his mother. She had served out a generous helping of rice with haak saag. He sat on the ground next to his sister Najma, who was already eating.

There was homework to catch up with, but his father was keen that he learn the tricks of the trade too.

"You are thirteen now," he had said, just the other day. "You should start taking out the boat and learn how to sell our merchandise."

Sajid knew his father needed his help, especially after his partner had decided to branch out and start a shop. He said that he was growing too old to paddle around Dal Lake.

The lake was huge and there were many, many boats. Lots of competition too. Though his father tried to stock a variety of merchandise so that there was something for everyone's taste, the season only lasted for seven months. During that time, they needed to earn enough to survive for the whole year.

A wiry and agile boy, Sajid finished his lunch and ran to the edge of the lake. The June sky was a brilliant blue today, and puffs of white cloud floated dreamily above the surrounding mountains. In the distance, Sajid could see a carpet of pink lotuses stretching over one end of the lake. It was always a breathtaking sight.

He noticed that Riyaaz was just about to set off on another round to sell vegetables. "Uncle!" he called out, "Have you seen my father?"

"Hop in," said the round-faced man. "I last saw him next to the Royal Palace houseboat. He had managed to sell a necklace to a foreign lady. He's a smart salesman, your father."

Sajid nodded. Didn't he know what a smart salesman his father was? He had such a winning smile and such a persuasive tone. The problem was that he wanted his son to be just like him. And Sajid felt he could not sell even a tiny silver ring, no matter how pretty, to save his life. He felt too embarrassed trying to make people buy something that they didn't really need. More than that, it was the bargaining part that was impossible for him to handle. When should he stop pushing, what was the right price to agree upon he could never figure that out.

Why didn't his father just let him go on with his studies and take up a job when he grew older? He had never dared to say this to Abbu. But Abbu had himself scotched the idea as if he had read his son's mind.

It's enough to get an education so you do not remain illiterate. More importantly, so that you can git-pit a bit in English with the firangis. We all know how hard it is to find a job these days. Look at all those BA pass boys struggling to make a living! He had scoffed. You will have a beautiful boat to go around in and the jewellery business brings in a decent income if you can sell enough of it.

Sajid had no problem paddling the boat for his father and letting him do the selling. But Abbu had been insisting that he start training for the job too.

Perhaps, today, his father would be in a cheerful mood after making a good sale. Maybe he could say, "Abbu, it's your lucky day. You should continue making the pitch."

He caught sight of the bright blue shikara from afar as it wove between the houseboats. Abbu always kept it spic and span. There were pink lotuses painted on it and the seats were comfortably cushioned though it was hardly ever used as a passenger boat.

"There he is!" Riyaaz exclaimed, pointing. "Muhammad Ismail!" he shouted. "Your son is here."

As the two boats moved closer, Sajid jumped lightly into his father's shikara. "So, how many dollars did you earn today?" Riyaaz asked.

"Not as many as I would have liked to," his father replied with a laugh. "Now let's see how my son fares."

"Good luck," Riyaaz said, as he maneuvered his long, narrow boat towards another houseboat.

Sajid's belly began to churn in apprehension. His father was already producing a turquoise-studded necklace from his bag. "See that shikara? There are two foreign ladies in it. Try to get at least 10,000 for this."

Sajid paled. "Abbu why don't you? Youre so good at it."

Son, you have to start sometime!" His father cut him off abruptly. "The sooner the better. Here, hold it while I try to catch up. Smile and say nicely, 'Madam, madam, a beautiful necklace for you. Real turquoise, my father selected it himself. Selling at a very good price.' Let's go!"

Sajid's hands trembled as he took the necklace from his father. Abbu was pulling the oars deftly and the distance between the two shikaras narrowed. He could see the foreign ladies. They were both quite old. One was bony, with a mop of white hair under her hat. The other was slightly stout, dressed in a cotton pheran which she had bought recently no doubt. What use would they have for a fancy necklace?

"They might decide to take it as a gift," his father muttered as if reading his thoughts. "After that, you can offer another necklace if they don't take that, then offer matching earrings. Don't forget to show something else after the first sale. And begin with 20,000. If they bargain too much remember what I told you. 10,000, at least." Sajid's head reeled with the list of instructions. It was much easier to memorize his lessons, he thought. "Don't worry, son," Abbu continued in a gentler tone. "If needed, I'll help out."

Farhan, the other boatman, slowed down when he saw them approaching. It was an unwritten agreement. They usually supported each other in getting customers.

But the women frowned when they saw them approaching. "No thank you! We don't need any of that junk," the stout one said in a sharp voice.

"Just see, madam, no charge for looking", Abbu said in his most winsome voice. "Show it," he muttered under his breath.

"R-real turquoise, madam", Sajid managed to get out. "Very low price. Just for you." He froze when the woman shook her hand vigorously in refusal. His face turned hot and he could almost feel tears of humiliation pooling in his eyes. "Just see, madam." His voice came out in a squeak as he made one last desperate attempt. "Very low price."

It was impossible to make out the expressions in their eyes behind their dark glasses. "Don't want it!" the plump lady barked out. "Let's go, boatman."

Farhan shrugged ruefully and began to ply his paddles. Abbu let out a sigh of disgust. "Ill-tempered old women," he growled. "Sajid, you should smile. Be more persistent. Make it impossible for them to refuse."

"I'm sorry, Abbu," Sajid whispered. "I'll try harder next time."

"See, this is why I wanted you to start practicing," his father patted his shoulder. "It takes time to develop these skills. Even I had problems when my father first took me out on the shikara. My older brother Ghulam Rasool though, was a natural. He just had it in him."

Sajid's mouth dropped open. "You had difficulties selling?"

"Yes, son." Abbu smiled wryly. "And my father always compared me with my brother. But I made up my mind to acquire that skill, even though it didn't come to me naturally."

"Oh, Abbu!" Sajid's eyes felt damp again. How little he knew his father! Now he felt ashamed that he had been making excuses not to go out on the shikara. "I-I too will work hard to become a good salesman like you. Everyone praises you. Even Riyaaz uncle was saying your father is such a smart salesman."

Abbus's loud, infectious laugh rang out. "You will be one too, Sajid, give yourself time."

The words were barely out of his mouth when they heard the splash of oars. Abbu hurriedly grabbed his own, then exclaimed in surprise. It was Farhan and the two foreign ladies.

The thin lady, who had a rather kind face, Sajid realized now, called out," Hey, young man, can you show me the necklace again? I need a gift for my daughter and there's not much time. We're leaving tomorrow."

Sajid's hands were still trembling when he fished out the necklace from the bag. The other lady was still frowning, but he didn't care now.

They clinched the deal at 12,000. Sajid remembered to show the matching earrings and they went for 3,000.

He also remembered to say, "Wish you a safe and happy journey home, madam!"

This time both women smiled as they waved to him.

"Son, you made a killing today!" Abbu slapped his back. "You will grow up to be the best salesman on Dal Lake. You will outdo your uncle Ghulam Rasool, inshallah!"

Inshallah! Sajid breathed.

It was a miracle indeed, the two women coming back. Later, Farhan solved the mystery. He had overheard the two ladies arguing. The white-haired woman had felt sorry for Sajid, he said. He had looked so scared that she was worried that his father might beat him. They all had a hearty laugh. "That's a good sales trick my son," Abbu said. Though it won't work if I try it.

"I don't think so, Abbu!" Sajid laughed again. But it's wonderful that there are such kind-hearted people in the world.

"It is indeed," both Abbu and Farhan said together.

(Reprinted with Permission)