' Boss ' Burlesque

"SO..This is your first day as a supervising official" The lean man with thick glasses, wearing a an attire not by any stretch of imagination can be assigned to an executive, asked me handing back a letter. I nodded my head.
I sat in my designated place and started clearing my desk with cluttered with umpteen number of cheques, instruments, complaints, and head office queries and reminders. My innocent customers across the counter seemingly relieved at the look of the new face, urgently recalled their unattended issues and made it a point to let me know. I am repulsive to long Q, so I have decided to dispose every one as early as possible. " Madam you are very fast" smiled my assistant. I was flabbergasted. The lean man with thick spectacles was doing rounds while I worked barely noticing him.

As soon as business hours are closed I received a call from the lean man with thick specs.
"Sit down" I took my seat
" It seems you were clearing the instruments very fast". I felt very proud.
"Yes, sir"
"What yes? Any body can pass the cheque. It is not a big deal. Could you stop any cheque?"
"Why would I do it?" I did not understand.
"There lies your greatness. When an instrument is handed over to you should always seek reasons to decline payment."
" "Why so..sir?"
" Since payments are always risky. So try to refuse them as far as possible !" "You can't do that !"
"You can. Examine from top to bottom, upside down , ventral or dorsal... you
get some clue. But never pay in the first instance"
"But one day it got to be paid !"
"That day you may change your seat !" broad grin.
Splendid ! But I always happened to be person to pay the cheque thrice declined before by some body.

Bosses always don't look alike, as well they don't behave alike. My lean boss with thick lenses was replaced by saggy born old gentleman. Lean boss was liberal with his signatures, but this sorrowful gentle man was miserly with his signatures. He has excellent knack of making you sign any paper which you are not supposed to sign.
"Sanction the firm with Rs.20 lacks ..sir"
"No problem. Sign the paper."
"I guess I am not competent to sanction it. "
"No prob. Put the signature. I will counter sign it." (Why counter sign? You can as well sign!)


"Ask our head messenger to take leave on loss of pay"(Why are you telling me this? I am not in any way concerned with his leave sanction. )
That head messenger comes to me seeking permission for his leave. Why am I made a party to this?
"Please. Talk to the manager. I am no way concerned with your leave"
"He says you may need me for tomorrow's banner tying"
"So. What?"
"So it is within your discretionary power to sanction me a leave !"
"I may need you to clean my bath room on Sunday. Will he pay you over time?" He does not move from my seat. My blood boils. I rush to the manager's cabin "Sir, what is this?" "No thing will happen. Just scribble small initial on his leave letter, I will take care of the problem" Silly ! You Signophobic!
"I do not require any banners to morrow.You can go" I told the head messenger cursing my fate.
Perhaps during midnight I might embark on climbing the poll.


In another god forbidden place my institution has opened it's office to display it's patriotism with national interest on agenda,and ended up with losses. Still we cannot close the office as we are obliged to please the government.
I entered the manager's cabin to report. It was so refreshing to find a manager with news paper covering his face.
Next few days I hardly could recognize his face when it was out of paper. Things move on their own some times, even if no one really does any thing.
On that fateful day before my newspaper manager made his presence in the office, There was surprise visit by the General Manager. Efforts were made to cool him down will cool soda. Yet the situation was very tense.
"So your manager has not yet reached the office." fuming G.M shouted as if it is our fault.
Suddenly I felt sorry for my news paper man. "He might be here any time" I said. All of a sudden the situation looked cool and normal. "O.K. Get me these figures" I presented few figures which were prepared as a hobby while my news paper man reads his daily paper.
"Good. I am happy you are taking care of the branch" he would have hugged me if I were to be a man. My manager reached only after G.M left the branch.
"Sir, G.M visited the branch" He covered his face with news paper.



I stepped into one branch to find a man wearing 'ready to retire' looks,struggling behind his table in the middle of a mess trying to dispose a crowd around him. The moment he finds more than two people near his table he goes mad crazily shouting. He offers "Namaskarams" if he finds himself incompetent to fulfill their absurd wishes. If he gets an inkling to do some thing he wouldn't mind grabbing a pen from their pocket and subscribe a signature on any paper they present. Generally he was full of inklings. Signatures..signatures every where, on the walls, doors, tables, people's backs.
"Sir, Look at this instrument" He grabbed it from my hand and scribbled his signature.
"Sir What are doing? It has already been signed by me. You scribbled over my signature"
"Is it? Then I will cut mine" he cuts the signature making the instrument shabby. I always suspected that he would sign even if I place chapathi on his table from my lunch pack..
"Sir this kind of indiscriminate signatures may land you in trouble" I always sympathized him.


You also come across tough nuts, shaky, shady characters, psychopaths,self obsessed, egoistic, as your bosses.
"I given my civils in 83 you know" (I know you couldn't clear it) That was the 5th time I heard that IAS thing from another chubby young boss .
"I think IAS are no better than us" he shrugs. (Is it !)
" I have not joined as civil services as my father fell sick"
"I am bored with this job. I should have taken IAS" ( But you are only worth this job. So work hard )
"I forgot my vault keys" (Yes I know, keys are lying on the table. IAS men need not lock their vaults. So you forgot)...



Another tall handsome manager was not found to be so handsome from inside. "Sir look at this paper"
"Place it on the table. I will see in my free time"
"Sir it is urgent. He needs to catch his 3 o clock flight with this letter "
"Let him cancel his flight. I have to make a phone call to Bombay"
"Sir it is already 2'o clock"
"What can I do?" ....



Another occasion follows "Sir I think we need to temporarily enhance his credit limit for importing raw material from abroad"
"Why he cannot buy from India?"
"There is severe shortage in India. So he indented for it at a very competitive price. He got through all the import clearances. I have taken Head Office approval."
"He should be patriotic enough to wait for Indian material"
"Sir, he cannot wait. His factory will be shut down"
" Mean while let him produce bulk drugs instead of polyurethane sacks"
"Sir, They are two different projects which require entirely different plants and machinery"
"Let him set up a plant. We will finance it" Good heavens !! This man is above logic and beyond repair !!



On fine day he decided to take off his stern mask "You are denigrating me" he shouted.
"Tell me how?"
" By offering service to the people"
"That is our job, right ?"
"By showing so much generosity you are exposing your self to risk"
"I do not think I am generous . Even if I am bent upon doing such sorts, I am doing at my own peril"
"No. You might involve our Regional Manager too. He is expecting a promotion. There is a thing called vicarious liability , Do you know?"
"Yes I do.. But I do not think I am involved in any precarious activity. Any way I do not see any reason why we care about him so much"
"If we don't care about him, Why would he offer us (me) any post in his secretariat?" (There you are! Dear !)
Ruin the organizations. Ruin the institutions. Ruin the industry. Ruin the country. But never think straight !
"To morrow if some thing happens, no body is going to your rescue" "Thank you for the concern. But I believe that ' tomorrow' will never happen to me." I have to die thousand deaths every day thinking about that 'tomorrow'. To save from that fateful day I should never address an issue.


My lean boss with thick lenses had a heart attack. My signophobic boss who was careful enough not to sign a 100 rupee voucher, signed a 10 crore instrument only to get involved in a big fraud case. My signature crazy (Chapati) boss retired peacefully with immaculate record even after subcribing countless signatures. My news paper boss has been transferred to some other circle but always speaks high of me to the people of other states. ( I heard it.World is small !) My unhappy IAS aspirant boss has been promoted as General manager as my management considers that a failed IAS is worthier than a diligent promotee. ! My illogical manager is fighting his court case on a libel petition filed by a valued customer.


I was lucky to work under bosses who would work like bulls, sniff like dogs, think like Einsteins, run like horses. But they they do not fit into burlesque. So I do not write about them.

But in most cases we end up with bosses who work like donkeys, bite like dogs, think like dumb heads, and run like lame ducks. The delightful concluding part of this narration is that we always think our bosses are not up to our standards !!

Swamiji's Private Room

The statements made by Tamil actor Sarath Babu in visual media made me to think about this sensitive issue.Defending a god man who was involved in a sex scandal , he said no body has a right to peep into somebody's bed room. Here we get the tricky question. Should a monk be absolved from the responsibility of maintaining a clean image with regard to his personal character? Does a proclaimed swamiji come under the category of 'somebody'?

Some throng to swamijis to hear few good words. Any swamiji is good for them, since listening to satsang is supposedly an old age past time. Some go them anticipating solace from their miseries of life. Driven by a need and curiosity for a miracle, these people in most cases end up being devotees. Some go to them to reap some material benefits which they think swamiji is capable of delivering. Large number of their devotees, sevaks and believers unite like a family developing strong bonding between themselves with goals of serving the corresponding swamiji and canvassing his philosophy. Milder devotees display intolerance towards criticism of their guru and ferocious do not hesitate to blow a hurt to the critic. The close confides of fake swamijis are those related to them in their past lives on earth and are precisely collaborators and benefactors of ill gotten fame of their guru. They make good liaison between swamiji and high statured politicians, bureaucrats, celebs, high value donors. They know the weakness of swamijis but hang to them in pursuit of their personal goals. There no wonder even if they resort to blackmailing.

Swamijis initially come forward to solve the personal problems of all who throng to them. At the end of the day they assure heaven for many of their devotees. They teach them modern techniques of good interpersonal relations, and improved efficiency in work place. It is true that some marriages take place within devotees circle, and few promotions are bestowed to the persons by the bosses belonging to the the same cult. For those who want 'moksha' it has been offered in installments. You will be granted with it only when you can lure few more 'customers' to swamiji. Amway is no different from it. You will be promoted to the next level as you add on more more clientele to the swamiji hub. Hitherto unsuccessful artists come to the lime light with the grace of swamiji while singing in their satsangs.

Present day Swamijis love hair colors, heavy jewelery and designer silk robes. They believe in good stage presence. Few can live without air conditioners and luxury cars. Few believe in their own self healing and specialist doctors are lined up to check their blood pressures and heart beats. Running between hectic schedules it is still a matter of doubt whether any swamiji can pull any time for god. Their celebrity status robs their spiritual inclinations down to the scratch.

These god men are divided into two categories. The old fashioned swamijis are more conversant with orthodox Hindu texts. They are appealingly sarcastic and propagators for superstitions.The other is the younger lot, who are proficient in English and attract foreign devotees with their universal appeal. The modern management guru swamijis are clever enough not to preach renunciation. They do not teach you abstinence. They teach modern management techniques. Emphasis is laid on good interpersonal relationships and improvised work efficiency. They quote few lines from every religious books. They make Gita or Upanishad as modern management manual. Their 'satsung ' is often priced. But down the lane each one of swamijis ends up building a multi crore empire. Principally all of them belong to Hindu monk cult. They build huge prayer halls and confine to traditional ritualistic or devotional routine. All their preachings stem from the fundamental tenants of Hindu spiritualism consisting Bhakthi, Gnana, viragya, and mukthi. Few of them are attributed with miracles too.

Even the ashramites are expected to adhere to certain code of conduct during their stay at ashram.. The inhabitants are restricted from using tobacco, alcohol, drugs and sex, with few exceptional liberal ashrams which cater to foreigners. Despite of all the controls it is not unusual that inmates indulge in some kind of violations.

The scandalous swamiji in recent controversy is no where nearer to Osho. He is a traditional Hindu monk who preaches spiritualism wearing saffron robes. Evidently he is very young and sprang to lime light in recent years. He has been popular with many devotees from Tamil Nadu and Karnataka including celebs. Recently aired videos clippings show him indulging in physical gratification with few actors, offering fodder to the news channels. Evidently one more time people are being fooled by a saffron clad who is no better than a lusty ordinary man. He is not the only sinner. Few more are in the line with dubious credentials.

The only surprising thing in this particular case is that there are scores of people defending swamiji. Swamiji finally came to admit that it was none other than himself who appeared in video, further elaborates that he was in trance while the video was shot by hidden camera. The alleged actress was 'serving' him only like a humble disciple. He has not done any thing any thing wrong 'legally' and the video has been shopped in certain parts.

We compromise with our rationale to the extent that we somehow tend to believe in lying politicians, dubious religious organizations, and self serving regionalist and also fake gurus. We apprehend any day, any thing might turn miraculous to prove our logic incorrect. Since we are fed with this kind of nourishment since beginning, no wonder there are people to defend tainted gurus . Above all we are being told that a swamiji also can indulge in any kind of act which a normal person can indulge yet manage to be a swami. Above mentioned Swamiji cleverly says he never advocated celibacy. After his underground days probably he might come out as charming swamiji who will preach erotic lessons. This is a land of miracles, land of unfounded beliefs, land of credulous.

Finally we came to acknowledge that a swamiji can have a star studded bed room hidden from the public eye !

Technophrenia

A post man's job has been reduced to half in urban areas. We do not see him anymore carrying bundles of letters to the beloveds from their near and dear. It is funny to watch old movies where in lives of the people upturn for want of communication, zeroed down to a simple phone call. It does not surprise me since I personally knew what an uphill task it takes sometimes. I had to move earth and heaven to convey my brothers about my mother's demise due to some agitation on top of our stupendous infrastructure in bygone era.

Before internet really started making a dent into our homes, I took it as a passion to write long letters narrating minutest details of what is churning in my mind with detailed description of the circumstances and surroundings. End of the day my letters always looked like a pocket size novels. I honestly doubt how many of my friends could finish reading my letters in one go. Or still there might be few more skeletons in the cupboard unopened and unexplored. I ensured that each word is carefully carved and spruced up, left few words deliberately visible under multiple cuttings, some resolutely erased leaving holes to the paper. Exceptional few were shabbily scribbled and some distressingly spoiled with few ink drops ( I was never comfortable with ink pen, and no pen on earth was good for me) . Until I was sternly told to withhold making Rangoli with my cuttings I enjoyed sharpening the phrases endlessly with ink tripping from my fore arm. It was a telling that I worked harder than any other on that particular day in my office if ever I leave carbon prints on every thing I touched. Back home I might have spent my whole weekend writing letters about a squirrel visiting my window, or ruing the number of F 20s supplied to Pakistan.

The long hours spent in scribbling something often gave us a chance to ponder, to improvise and hone our writing and spelling skills. Importance ascribed to the good hand writing was compelling. My father cited Gandhi for bad hand writing.(It was not bad at all at present day's standards) Good hand writing was a prerequisite for securing good percentage in exams. As I went a head with life journey my writings dwindled as I was thoroughly engaged with cleaning feeding bottles and changing diapers. Most of my creative hours were engaged with diabolic on slaughter programmer with veggies, or awful seasoning , I do not regret much though. Whenever I needed to write, e mail was most uncomfortable endeavor initially. I had to squeeze into 2 into 2 cubicle of internet cafe, and even at the end of one hour @ Rs.30, my letter would not get over. I had to call the attendant for frequent technical support. Google was not known or entirely was not there at all and frequently I had a problem in remembering the URL . My entire one hour toil would sometimes vanish with one wrong click. Writing a letter was a night mare sometimes in that hot chamber of torture. There was no other go if I want to communicate to some one abroad as sending Air mail was much more painful.

With magical computerization and internet in every house writing a mail to to the beloved is no longer a pain. Most official communications are turning to be emails, and I no longer stand in the "Q" to know my balance in my savings bank account, or pay my telephone bill. No doubt world has become smaller, along with it communications shrank smaller and smaller with no formal vocabulary. Spelling checks, grammar checks helped most awkward English proficients , some times I get worst doubts as to whether write clerk or clark ? . No wonder many teens might write Ur for 'your' even on paper. My hand writing became shaky and occasionally wonder what to write above the scribbled signature . Is it "To the Municipal Commissioner, love and signature?" " To the Commissioner of Police, Take care and signature ! I know my English is going from bad to worse. I am in a hurry to finish my letter as my internet may get disconnected before I finish my letter or my unscheduled power cut may disrupt the communication.

Same is the case with my cell phone. Call servant maid ? No longer a problem. She always carries her mobile with her. Fruitwalah, vegetablewalah, proprietor of a grocery shop , every body is busy with their mobiles . I have to wait till he finishes his chit chat and he never seem to be in a hurry to finish it . I was mindful of the information that my banana walah has a girl friend called Kavitha and vegetable walah has friend called Yadgiri. Reading his facial gestures I can understand whether he is going to talk for a minute or for a while. I get an inkling that I should buy my medicines before I come to this man again since during the conversation vegetables weigh less and cost more. I go the medical shop only to find another chit chatter. Instead of Overon SR I get simple Overon which I notice after reaching home. Every body had all the time in the world to talk..talk..talk, almost get up from bed with a cell phone hung to the ear. I always thought my morning hours are very precious and productive, but young ones seem to have no problem with continuous vibrations in the ear and emerge without getting dizzy. My own affliction with the cell phone is that I stopped memorizing the telephone numbers. Some times I am too scared to think, if I loose my phone I might loose my contact with this mundane world. Proudly I declare I don't remember my own telephone number. My personal pride of memorizing various long 12 digit bank account numbers and countless telephone numbers is getting faded. Telephone numbers, appointments, birth days, bank account numbers, locker numbers, reminders all go into this tiny gadget. I know my my brain has preempted of all its task. There stands a sales man selling husk near supermarket entrance telling me that I need fiber in my food. I see all the corporates who sell atta do all the hard work to remove husk from it. I am buying an expensive brawn to remake it husky. Why not I play Sudoku to improve my memory skills?

My grocery man doesn't seem to be a great believer in his adding machine. He finishes totaling my long grocery list in few seconds which rarely tallies with my calculated sum total, of course my pocket calculator was made in China, so it is capricious. My early day's of banking comprised of long page totals, and interest calculations, manually done. There were days when we proudly thought all that was banking. When rest of the world was exploring with new banking ideas we had spent day and night for a fortnight to locate tricky one paise discrepancy. To day right from balancing of accounts, interest applications, budgets, clean cash(Is there a dirty cash?) weekly reports to yearly profit and loss calculations are being done by the servers untainted with human sweat. Counter clerk barely has time to look into the customer's face. Signatures speak while computers work. Incentives are offered for making fewer visits to the banking hall. They are quicker in disposing the people. They offer wide variety of services. Customer or a casual visitor is being hunted with new products. Many smart looking bunch of young people in tie and suit in mid summer welcome and speak the language which many commoners do not understand. The targeted are found to be elated with something which looks exotic and refreshing. They feel privileged to be misunderstood. Expensive though ill maintained ambiance gives them feel good factor. Baring few who are in real hurry to complete their transaction few seem to look unhappy for being sent away so soon. Vanishing human face of service sector is only logical end to the perfection pursuit.

Automated complaint booking services never seemed to be manned at all. After playing "kaun banega Coredpati" for 15 minutes by pressing all the numerals on display I listen to heart rendering music which I am in no mood to enjoy. A sleepy voice takes down my complaint asking me to try some unknown operation on my computer only to get convinced that my system had not gone rot. I will be given a docket number followed by SMS confirmation. Up to that point it is wonderful. I don't try to stir out of home hoping to have a glimpse of my savior at any moment. Evening another SMS flashes stating my docket has been closed. How? When ? I have not seen a person with my eyes. He must have shook some cables at his end. So the docket has been closed. In 24 hours my problem revisits me. Personal phone calls won't work. The are obliged only to respond to a complaint booked.

Of late I find my self totally free of any work what so ever. My cooperative society where I keep my deposits says it has credited my dues on line. AP online appears at every corner of the street replacing e seva which is barely 100 meters away from my house. My telephone people offer discounts on my phone bill if payments are through ECS. Dish T.V. people are content with mobile payment. It is years since I drove to the drop box to drop my credit card cheque. I do not go to the Railway station since I book my railway ticket IRCTC. I book my air ticket through make my trip dot com. I draw my money through ATM. I am happy with internet banking. I play my tennis through virtual console . I book my cinema ticket through internet or Easy movies. I wish they transport me to the theater through internet.

Ouch! Why do you think I have a stiff back?