'Journalists don't impress me at all'

55

"So, what do you do?" Hence began one of the most consequential conversations I have had in the recent past. The seemingly innocuous question was casually thrown my way by a bespectacled, mousy-looking lady seated next to me in an obscenely-packed Haryana Roadways monstrosity. The loud utterance of five suitably punctuated English words in a local bus were enough to draw curious glances from at least 30 pair of eyes and an equal number of ears, the owners of which were precariously positioned in various stages of "bus posture." (sitting, standing, leaning, clutching, hanging and unmentionables). "Oh, I am a journalist." I almost mumbled, half fearing the unwanted attention from an additional 30 pair of eyes and ears, and half swelling in pride in the anticipation of an expected reaction. (On the lines of - 'Wow, must be challenging, no!' or 'Do you come on....