Kishore Singh: My son's well connected

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Now that our son is all set to go to college "" preferably away from Delhi, he says "" his mother is worried that he might get hijacked by the high-lifewallahs. But that's because she hasn't spent too much time checking out his friends. There is a sprinkling of high-fliers, true, some even with political clout, and he's partial to his brands, but the company he keeps is far from the jet set.

The other day, for instance, he went to meet "Bobby Bhaiya" at the local mall. "Is he a local ruffian?" my wife questioned him as soon as he was back. 'Chill, mom," said our son. Bobby Bhaiya, at any rate, turned out to be the sales manager at a Nike outlet who had since left, and was now a floor manager at the mall. He'd called because he could arm-twist some concessions from the stores on his beat, and did our son want anything on discount? From the salesmen at Adidas to the managers at Punk "" the apparel store that appears to specialise in jeans that have been put through a shredder and then stitched back by a moron with a visibility problem "" he is on first-name terms with them all. Ravi will call to say there's a special deal on sleeveless shirts at Benetton, Anand at Voi (who was at Wrangler's flagship store earlier) says come over for coffee, they're discontinuing some lines and he can offer him a really good price on the pair of jeans he wanted, and throw in a belt for free.

All this means that my son, who did not really want another pair of shoes, now has two new ones because the offer was on "buy one, get one free". He'll go out to buy himself formal trousers (there are interviews to give) but return with still another pair of jeans because "you can't believe the price on this, besides they gave me a pair of ear-studs free". "Do you want floaters?" he'll ask me, and when I say no, he'll sulk, "Do you know I can get you the Rs 3,500 pair for Rs 1,900 because I know Sharmaji at the shop."

That's not the only extras he's accumulated over the years. He'll watch any film at the multiplex because his friend has a friend who knows the doorman, and everyone knows that there are empty seats in a hall after the third day. Other friends include the bouncers at the neighbourhood nightclub, so that on a good day he can manage to get in without paying the exorbitant cover charge or, at any rate, get in some friends in a group free, and then split the spoils equally. He's friends with the mechanics at the service station, so as long as there is no requirement for spare parts, the car gets attended to at absolutely no cost (I think this is a good thing, and his most useful friendship to date). He's also friends with the ice-cream cartwallah that stands outside our gate, so he and his friends run up a monthly bill with him that, sadly, I have to clear, but he also manages to wangle his way to free soups at the local takeaway, and I'm told on good authority that he has an arrangement with the waiter at the tea shop where his friends meet, so that the bill is never served to him.

The thing I cannot fathom is why he also knows the cops who often stand at the red light crossing close to our home, waving down all the unfortunates caught speeding by their cameras. But I suppose it's good to be on the right side of authority "" even if you're not a high flyer.