Saturday, 2 August 2008

My obsession for Quality

My obsession for quality encompasses many things. It all originated from my desire to sketch and paint, and the passion for looking at anything as an art piece. It could be the way my launderer presses my attire or the spoken language many a folk resort to. I would bite fingers if I see those intolerable quality of Indian products and those badly laid roads and our dirties precincts. I am always attracted towards quality and quality conscious people.

Quality and art are intertwined. It is magical word, it’s a passion, but its awful when I am denied it. It irritates me. My eyes always wander for finesse and grace in everything. When it come to my family I always insists my children to do their daily rituals neatly. Wanting to buy a guitar I went into a Musical shop which had an array of Indian musical instruments. I remember during my college days when I had bought an Indian guitar, the shopkeeper somehow sold it to me. But my conscience said that the workmanship was awfully poor, some keys loosened and the polish and the painting not up to the mark. But I had no choice but to accept those sub-standards ones. This thought had a very big influence when I went into shop for the same product after nearly 20 years. That was a popular Musical shop in Chennai. I entered, and my eyes browsed through everything in the shop but I was looking for a good Guitar for my son. I was also worried that I may have to again buy an Indian one. The shop keeper took me to a section where some Indian brands were kept. It was boring again. But suddenly something caught my attention. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Resting on a metal stand was an impeccable looking Guitar !. I gleefully picked it up. It shined beautifully and reflected my desire more than my image. I knew it was not made in India. I quickly turned it around for the label which could have the country of origin. There I found inside a the hollow space, a sticker and printed on it was a new brand name with ‘Made in China’ in small letters, but with definitely with a big message. At once my fingers caressed the soft wood and I moved it along the frets. Oh ! I could sense them, they were made with such mathematical precision !. I held it like a baby, strung with my fingers and lo and behold, came the chords of rhythm like “Sound of music”. I was simply dumbfound by the quality of tone which I had never ever experienced in Indian ones. A Chinese revolution here also!. Yes seeing is believing, and its true. A world class Guitar from China. I remembered those Spanish classical guitars with nylon strings. These are as good as them. I didn’t waste a single minute, pulled out my wallet and paid the price. Even the Chinese packing was safe like a coconut in its shell. When are we going to become like Chinese I wondered.

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