Google Map Has It's Limitations
The day an old speaker led me to people I would never have met otherwise.
🕣 15 min read
In 2022, we almost bought a $2,500 JBL home theater. I'd always wanted one as a kid—boy toys, you see 🙂. But for one reason or another, we kept postponing the purchase. Looking back, I'm glad we did.
Fast forward to 2024. We were in Mysore, and I was looking through some old things kept in my father-in-law's shop when I came across a Creative 2.1 speaker system. I brought it home and connected it to my OLED TV. The sound was surprisingly good, but there was a constant static noise in the background. So, like any modern human being, I opened Google Maps and searched for speaker repair shops nearby.
One number picked up. The person on the other end told me he didn't repair speakers. Unfortunately, nobody else was answering, so I packed the speaker into the car and went to his shop anyway.
The shop was tiny. And by tiny, I mean the kind of place where you wonder whether the electronics are occupying the shop or the shop is somehow squeezed between the electronics. There was an uncle in his sixties cleaning the place. Every shelf was overflowing with gadgets, wires, radios, chargers, and mysterious devices whose purpose had probably been forgotten by most of humanity.
The moment I saw him, I knew I was going to get a scolding.
I waited quietly while he finished cleaning. Five minutes passed. Without asking who I was or what I wanted, he looked up and said, "I told you I don't do speakers."
Somehow, that small aberration felt particularly good. It was like going back to the days when any uncle in the neighborhood could scold you.
Being in sales helps me in mysterious ways, so instead of leaving, I asked, "Sir, can you refer me to someone?" 🙂
He obliged.
"There is a Ganesh temple near a lodge in that direction. The repair shop is near it."
Now, if you've ever been to Chandni Chowk, imagine a smaller version of it. That's what this wholesale market felt like. Thousands of shops. Narrow lanes. People moving in every direction. And my navigation system consisted entirely of one temple and one lodge.
I found the shop after asking eight or ten strangers for directions. Nobody seemed entirely sure. One person pointed left. Another pointed right. Someone sent me back to where I had just come from.
A few had better things to do than help a random guy carrying old speakers through a market. Eventually, after enough wrong turns, I found it.
The shop was even more interesting than the first one. From the outside, it looked like a normal house. If nobody pointed it out to you, you'd walk right past it. Inside was a small workshop packed with tools, electronic parts, and decades of accumulated knowledge.
This is where I met Sharma ji.
The moment he saw the speaker, he smiled.
"Oh, this is one of those old ones."
He told me how electronics used to be built to last. Back then, companies expected products to serve people for years. These days, he said, many products seem designed to survive just long enough for the warranty to expire.
Once he opened the speaker and diagnosed the issue, he pointed to a small component and said, "You'll need to get this from Gupta Electronics." I looked at him. He looked at me. I was wondering why he couldn't simply buy it himself.
Before I could ask, he said, "If I go there, Gupta ji won't sell it to me." I laughed.
He continued, "He knows I know the real price. He'll tell me it's out of stock." I don't know whether that was entirely true, but I enjoyed the explanation. So off I went again.
Thankfully, Gupta Electronics was easier to find. Everyone in the market seemed to know Gupta ji. Apparently, he possessed every strange electronic component known to mankind. I bought the part and returned.
Sharma ji got to work.
As he repaired the speaker, we talked about his visit to IIT Kanpur, the people there, and the sweets in Kanpur—which happens to be my hometown. While we chatted, he quietly worked with a soldering iron and a screwdriver. Within ten minutes, the speaker was assembled again. He gave me a few instructions on how to use it properly and sent me on my way.
Back home, I connected it to the TV. And bam. It sounded fantastic.
Somewhere between the repair shop, the market, Gupta ji, and Sharma ji, I completely lost interest in buying a JBL home theater. At least until this speaker stops working.
The funny thing is that the speaker itself wasn't the most memorable part of the experience.
What stayed with me were the people.
The uncle who scolded me before I had even spoken. The strangers who pointed me toward the next shop. Gupta ji with his collection of impossible-to-find parts. And Sharma ji, who could probably repair half the electronics in my house with a soldering iron and enough patience.
The whole journey made me value the speaker far more than I would have if I had simply ordered something online and received it the next day. Maybe that's the Ikea Effect. Or maybe things become more meaningful when people become part of the story.
Google Maps helped me get to the market.
But the people helped me find what I was actually looking for.
After all, every technology has its limitations 🙂.
Some Directions can't be found on a map.
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More stories will come.
Not because it’s Tuesday.
Not because a content calendar says so.
Only when life teaches me something worth sharing.
