It’s the Money, Honey!

Twenty six-year-old Shawn Vassaokar’s mother Shobha Annie, 52, puts it in a nutshell: ‘‘The media has done this to youngsters; it has drilled the life-is-easy idea into them.’’ Shawn, a sales manager at Time Life (part of the leading media group AOL Time Warner) earns over Rs 40,000 a month, which is ‘‘four-five times’’ more than his father does.

Speaking about the youth (her children included) she continues, ‘‘They are not mature, because they don’t know what it means to be poor. Both Shawn, and my younger son Shane contribute a good part of their salary towards the home. The rest is for them to spend as they like. But when they spend a lot — like Shawn does sometimes — then I have to butt in. My instinctive reaction is that instead of spending Rs 1,000 more on a superior brand of clothes, it would make more sense if that money could be given as dal-rice for the poor.’’

As for Shawn, whose middle name is flamboyance — he has even flirted briefly with modelling — the expenditure is justified because his attire has to be ‘‘wild and whacky’’ and ‘‘classy, with style and elan at the same time’’. He adds, ‘‘Even if everyone’s wearing jeans and T-shirt, I’d rather wear suede and corduroy.’’

And giving the larger picture, he explains why: ‘‘The man of the 21st century has to look, talk and present himself well. Looking good is not just the woman’s domain anymore.’’ The frills of his larger-than-life lifestyle, eats into nearly one-fourth his salary. ‘‘On an average, I spend Rs 10,000 a month on stuff like clothes, shoes and gifts,’’ Shawn says, rattling off a list of nine birthdays in the next month.

Stephen John, 55, Shawn’s proud father, who works as quality control manager in Micro Screws Limited, says, ‘‘Shawn has surpassed the expectations I had of him. He has achieved what I never could. When he took up science in college, we thought he’d go in for medicine and we were a little frightened when he took up a post-graduate diploma in Management Studies at the Bajaj Institute instead.’’

When it comes to his son’s spending habits, his reaction, though more muted than his wife’s, is still one of alarm. ‘‘We were four brothers. Our father would take us to Colaba and he would give each of us Rs 20, which we would guard with our lives to buy Chinese calf leather shoes. So when Shawn tells me that he has spent Rs 7,000-8,000 on a pair of Nikes or Reeboks, it’s a bit shocking. It makes me wonder what is so special about those shoes.’’

Shane, 23, is also a stickler for appearance and, like his brother, earns more than his father. He works as a casting director in a media firm Model Maximum, and with the flexi-timings of the profession, late-nights are normal, much to the disapproval of his parents. Says Shawn, ‘‘Shane objects if my parents try to restrict his freedom. But I normally listen to them. Of late, though, it has started to get to me. Their incessant demands that we do things their way is frustrating. The negative vibes spiral into everything I do, and I just can’t function well.’’

As if sending a message to parents who are over-protective of their children, Shawn says, ‘‘I think I can make my own decisions, and need to learn from my own mistakes. Only if I fall will I learn to walk on my own.’’

Till date, the only money that Shawn has put away is under his parents’ pressure, in an insurance policy. ‘‘But I plan to save enough to start living on my own. Of course, family is the essence of our existence, but I have no qualms about living on my own. I need to get emotionally independent.’’

Shawn sees the taking-for-granted attitude as the crux of trouble in all relationships. ‘‘Relationships,’’ he says, ‘‘are like sand in a palm. You close your fist and the sand flows out. But just let your fingers open, and the sand stays right where it is.’’