‘What would I want to be doing if my present job didn’t exist?’ This is a question we all ask ourselves at some point or the other, for different reasons. With most people, unfortunately, it appears to be a case of hating their jobs so much that their only succour is in fantasizing about what might have been. For those of us lucky enough to enjoy what we’re doing, the question arises more out of curiosity than anything else - ‘I love my work, but what else might I love doing just as much?’ The answer to this query, for me, has always been split into two very distinct and divergent career paths.

More than anything else, I’ve always wanted to be a musician – specifically, a blues and jazz musician. From the time I was a child, I’ve been musically inclined and have had a pretty good ear for it. I used to take piano lessons at one point, and was told that I was something of a star student – I even won a prize at a competition at the prestigious Calcutta School of Music. The problem was that I was an 8-year old kid who was lazy, didn’t want to practice and who wanted to go out and play instead – so I gave up playing the piano, an utterly brain-dead move I regret to this day. Still, formal music training had further developed my musical senses, so a few years later I was able to teach myself the guitar without too much trouble. Blues, jazz and rock ‘n’ roll fell naturally and very easily on my ears, and before long I was devouring all the classic names – Clapton, Chuck Berry, Freddie King, Miles Davis, Led Zeppelin, John Coltrane, Thelonius Monk and many others. Every time I heard Freddie King’s electrifying ‘Have you ever loved a woman’, with his gut-wrenching voice and searing guitar work, my hair would literally stand on end – it still has that effect, as a matter of fact. I often sit back, put on a CD, close my eyes and think of myself playing guitar in some smoke-filled dive bar, and it’s an intensely satisfying feeling.

The other thing I’ve always wanted to do is be a vet. I’ve had an abiding love for animals from as far back as I can remember, and they seem to feel some sort of kinship with me as well. In school, we had two German Shepherds with whom I was to be found hanging out rather a lot, and at home a large tabby named Ollie was the resident cat. While in college, I regularly volunteered at the Madras Crocodile Bank, learning how to handle snakes and crocodiles of all sizes and shapes, and scaring the wits out of tourists by producing baby pythons from my shirt pockets. Wherever I go, I seem to attract the dogs in the vicinity as if I was a very large piece of bacon – I don’t mind this one bit, but it becomes a point of contention among the BS Motoring mob on occasion. I began reading the books of James Herriot, the legendary country vet, more than 20 years ago, and can still (and do) re-read them any number of times. His captivating stories, filled with humour, charm, sadness and, above all, an unabridged love for all his many patients are the perfect antidote for a bad day at work.

Of course, in reality I’d probably be booed off stage if I attempted to play anything, and as for being a vet, I’d pitch over sideways at the first sight of blood. Still, none of that really matters because it’s all in the realm of fantasy, something to daydream about every now and then. Besides, I already have the best job in the world.