I could not find a spicy quotation on tout that would have given you a glimpse of my vast knowledge, scholarship and erudition on the subject. But according to the Chambers Dictionary, a tout is one who looks out for custom in an obstructive manner or a low fellow who hangs about racing stables.
Notwithstanding what the Dictionary says, my experience of a tout is quite different. The other day, when I, perspiring profusely, was standing in a long queue in the office of the Delhi Development Authority (DDA), a gentleman approached me politely and asked: Could I help you? Surprised, I muttered: Who are you? Smiling, he replied: I belong to a much-maligned and the most-misunderstood community, Sir. This well-embellished reply created within me a feeling he must be a Muslim. I started searching my pocket. Soon he interrupted to say: No Sir! I do not believe in and accept unearned income. I am a self-respecting son of the soil. Feeling frustrated, I repeated my question: Who the hell are you and what do you want? Creating expressions of pain on his wrinkled face, he said: for the sake of clarity, I say your query has two parts: One, who am I, and two, what do I want from you? Right? Now listen: I am a qualified nonentity. Having a Master’s degree in Political Science. I am Ph.D as well. In addition to that, I have diploma in Public Administration. As far as experience is concerned, I have worked under several ministries.
My patience was exhausting. I quipped: with this impressive qualification, you ought to have been a Class I gazetted officer. But your assertion that you have worked under several ministries passed my understanding. What does that mean?
It is a long long story. But cutting that short, now by God’s Grace and good wishes and cooperation of the people like you, the time has come when Class I officers roam around me and the cultured among them, salute me also.
Feeling amused, I asked: what about the ministries under which you worked? He replied: I am afraid you would think I am indulging in self-praise but I assure you I am not self-important. In fact, importance has been inflicted upon me in the manner prime ministership had been thrust upon the late lamented Mr. P.V. Narasimha Rao.
How, I asked. He continued nonchalantly: Do you think this Bofors transaction would have been possible without my and my colleague’s assistance abroad? And did you note the finesse with which the whole operation was completed? Not a trace anywhere. This is how we work. Citing another example, he added: Volker unnecessarily spilt the beans. And Mr. Natwar Singh had to eat the crow. It was no fault of my tribesmen in Iraq. The fault lay in mishandling by Andaleeb Saigal. And why go that far? Look at Harshad Mehta’s case or that of Abdul Rehman Telgi.
Before he could wax eloquent on the subject, I intervened to ask: So far I simply failed to understand you. He retorted: But that is not my fault. The fault lies with your I Q. There must be something wrong with your genes.
Digesting this unnecessary snub and that too by a stranger, I submitted: I am a mediocre and incapable of comprehending highly intellectual talk of geniuses like you. Now please tell me in simple language all about you.
I am, shorn of frills, a tout. Understand? I am an unrecognised pointsman of each and every minister, ministry, corporation, municipality and various offices in public and private sectors. Usually the files do not move without my illegible signature. I am favourite of all those who count anywhere. I am indispensable. I am available everywhere. I am the monarch of all I survey. In the courts, around the police stations, the railway platforms; where am I not? I am thinking seriously to float a political party aimed at the betterment and recognition of touts all over India. We have to lose nothing and have everything. Ungrateful people like you have to admit the touts’s enormous contribution to society.
Stuffing my ears with my fingers, I cried: How dare you enter here? The entry of touts is banned in offices.
No, he said confidently. My network is far and wide. I don’t recognise barriers and the barriers do not recognise me. For your enlightenment look at the billboards and walls plastered with my presence. On the wall nearby, a billboard was warning-cum- instructing: BEWARE OF TOUTS.
Reading loudly with me, the M.A., Ph.D. tout asked: Are you now convinced of my resourcefulness, of which you media-persons talk too much? To simpletons like you the billboard should have read beware of touts but what is the ground reality?
Crestfallen and cursing myself in superlatives, I felt the tout had the last laugh. Hadn’t he? His loud laughter, however, asked me was I ungrateful to him? And am I now aware of touts?