I was at a research the other day. The type where a questionnaire is above all else, including the answers. Where the researcher cuts the respondents short in order to move to the next question. We ask bizarre questions to unsuspecting housewives.
If this soap were a person, who would it be?
What kind of clothes would it wear?
Where would you go to meet it? At a café or a pub?
How would you feel if it died?
Somebody tell the paper-setter that nobody cares about the stupid soap.
The housewives were looking at the researcher with complete contempt, sniggering at the questions.
Some of them were veterans.
“Mai iss concept ko dus mein se saat doongi.”
And we hadn’t even reached the ranking waala question!
These women had made a career out of being respondents. They were sympathetic to the poor question paper-wielding researcher who sheepishly progressed through the painful questions.
So, these women who attend, say, 4 groups a day as respondents for various products, and are so used to this kind of questions – what must their life be like?
“Mummy mai yeh bhindi nahi khaoonga. Achhi nahi hai.”
“Agar yeh bhindi insaan hoti toh kaun hoti?”
“Toh yeh Rahul hota. Kyonki wo bhi mujhe achha nahi lagta?”
“Toh bhindi, jo ab Rahul hai, wo kis tarah baat karta?”
“Bahu, zara meri dawai laa do.”
“Babuji, iss dawai ka aapki zindagi mein kya role hai?”
“Pagli, yeh mere blood pressure ko control karti hai na.”
“Babuji, kal se yeh dawai aapko na mile toh aapko kaisa lagega?”
“Thodi shakkar milegi?”
“Agar tumhe shakkar se nahane ko mile, toh kya tum try karogi?”
“Shakkar se bhala koi nahaata hai?”
“Agar main kahoon ki ek naya sabun aa raha hai jisme shakkar ke crystals hain, toh kya tum us-se nahaogi?”
So, dear researcher, bring on the questions. Who cares about the answers anyway?
3 hours ago