The Peril of being ‘Practical'

          There's nothing new in this. In fact, you feel you've read it somewhere, may be in a newspaper report, seen it on TV, or on the silver screen. However, a message needs to be reiterated till corruption is eliminated; hence this story.

          Many people get into trouble because of their bookish nature.  Most of us have heard the story of three scholars who gave life to a dead lion and were devoured by him, even as the least intelligent of them all, the fourth person, climbed up on to a tree and saved himself.  How can one find peril by being practical, you may ask.  ‘Practical’ from the perspective of this story, will largely mean acceptance of status quo and its justification by its advocates.  Isn't status quo the beginning of decay, you may wonder. That's precisely what I'm trying to convey through this story.

          Now let us move into the story.  In a small town where not much of enterprise flourished, there lived a bright young boy named Venkatesh.  His father, Panduranga Rao, was a small time employee in a small private firm, which meant that his means were modest.  His mother, Rukminiamma, completed her schooling in two attempts and got married to the boy chosen by her father soon after.  Venkatesh had a sister, Vani, five years younger than he – she entered into the higher secondary part of schooling when he stepped out of college and into the outside world.

          Venkatesh wanted to study further and become perhaps a college lecturer, but he had to be content with his B.Sc. (Mathematics) because of their meagre means and also as he had to live up to his family’s expectation of his standing on his own feet.

          As I already told you, he was brilliant and with his proficiency in Mathematics, he soon landed up with a clerical post in a government office in his own town.  Panduranga Rao and Rukminiamma were overjoyed.  Venkatesh was the first person in their lineage to have ever worked for the government.  He was better paid than Panduranga.  Moreover, there was no threat of a pink slip hanging above like the Sword of Damocles.  Vani could boast of her brother’s achievements before her friends.  After all, how many people in a modest town could boast of a government employee in their family?

          Venkatesh was appreciated in office for landing his job soon after graduation.  He was assigned the job of processing for annual increments and pay fixation of the staff of the office, who were about a hundred in number.  I am talking of the pre-VI Pay Commission days, so the due dates of annual increment were spread across the year.  Venkatesh did his job diligently, and was appreciated by his supervisor.  Life coasted happily, because the family condition also improved.

          One day, he found Varalayya, the rich man of the locality, enter into his office.  What has this man got to do with my office, he wondered.  Varalayya walked straight up to Suresh, another clerk of the office, who cleared works bills for payment.  ‘Good afternoon, Sir’, wished Varalayya.  Suresh lifted his head up from the bill he was checking and reciprocated curtly, ‘Good afternoon’.  Venkatesh was surprised.  Why did the rich man of the locality have to ‘Sir’ a clerk and what made the clerk reply rudely?  ‘When can I get my payment, Sir’, Varalayya, who executed certain works for the government, enquired of Suresh.  ‘Do you think I am your employee?  You will get it when your turn comes’, came the reply.  Varalayya did not give up.  ‘Why don’t you have some tea with me, Sir’, he pestered and Suresh soon got up from his seat and walked out of the hall behind Varalayya.

          After a while, both of them were back, with smiling faces.  It seemed that Varalayya came to see Suresh off at his seat, as if in a protocol.  Suresh waved him good bye saying, ‘You will get your money tomorrow, don’t worry’.

          ‘They have made a deal.  This fellow’s palms have been greased’, angrily remarked Venkatesh’s supervisor.  ‘We have got used to this drama that Suresh enacts before each and every contractor at bill-passing time’.  Venkatesh was stunned.  Though he heard of beat policemen letting off college students riding motor bikes in triples after receiving a 'tip', this was his first experience of watching corruption.  He wanted to know more, even if it were out of curiosity.  ‘Does Varalayya inflate the amount of work executed to be able to pay the cut?’ he asked innocently.  The supervisor guffawed.  ‘Gone are such days.  Suresh gets paid for doing his job and not being an obstacle in the passing of the bill.  For example, the bill could be returned for frivolous reasons or subsequent bills of others could be given priority over his.  So Varalayya addresses this man with deference and treats him with refreshments!'

          Venkatesh was first appalled.  How could one take money for doing one’s duty, he wondered.  But the counter current to fortify himself against such vicious acts was absent in him.  He accepted it as a part of life, as he was 'practical'.  When seniors could take bribes and be respected, who was he to object?

          In due course, observation of Suresh’s money-making turned into adulation of the activity.  Venkatesh wondered why he was deprived of the chance to make some ‘extra change’.  Moreover, he would be better behaved than Suresh!

          He did not have to wait for long.  Suresh’s arrogance resulted in a lot of complaints, so he was transferred out of the billing section and posted in a purportedly ‘non-sensitive’ post and Venkatesh was overjoyed to replace Suresh.  He had completed three years and half in the job by then.

          Venkatesh, being sincere at his work, never kept any of the bills pending; further, he gave polite replies to enquiries made by the contractors.  If they bribed a boorish Suresh, would they have refrained from greasing the palms of a polite Venkatesh?  They would not.  They also  ‘Sir’ed him as well.

          The extra income did not shock Venkatesh’s parents, being practical as they were.  They merely saw a government job as a passport to some additional rupees.  Moreover, their son had not made demands on the givers, did he?  In addition, if they were to find a decently employed groom for Vani, they had to shell out a fat dowry, right?

          Venkatesh’s ‘speed money’ grew and because it was ill-gotten, it could not be deposited at the bank.  In order to protect his money, Venkatesh now moved into a better locality and a bigger house.  He now began to lead a lifestyle which he would not have been able to afford in normal course.  His new-found friends would sponsor a holiday in some famous tourist resort every year. 

          Vani passed out of her college and her parents and her brother found a suitable match for her.  The boy was a probationary officer with a nationalised bank.  Just as Venkatesh’s parents thought of his job as a means to additional income, the boy’s 'practical'-thinking parents wanted to cash in on the fact that he was a gazetted officer (he was on training, so his integrity has not been tested as yet).  ‘The other day, the richest man of a neighbouring village offered his daughter who looks like a heroine, and, on top of it, offered a dowry of Rs. 3 lakhs’, announced the groom’s mother.  Panduranga Rao pleaded, ‘As you know, I am a poor retired employee from a private company, please be generous towards us’.  ‘Your daughter is not that fair.  But, your son is in the bill-passing section of the government office.  So, we’ll not settle for anything less than Rs. 2 lakhs’, agreed the boy’s mother. 

          Panduranga Rao and Rukmini had to agree to the proposal- after all, the girl's parents would want their daughter to be better- placed than they were .  Arrangements were being made for the wedding which was fixed at a short notice.

          ‘Vani is very lucky.  She was born poor but will be an officer’s wife’, the neighbours appreciated.  Rukmini smiled artificially – she was worried about the ever-increasing daily quota of demands of the boy’s mother – sarees for all female relatives from their side, booking of separate rooms for each family, etc. But then, as Vani was going to be happy, they would bear with it.

          It was the day before the wedding.  The boy’s side had arrived and were being entertained, as part of some ritual.  Suddenly, a jeep came to a halt in front of the mandap and some men got off it and asked for Venkatesh.  The senior one amongst them said, ‘We’re from the Anti-Corruption Bureau.  We want to know the source of funding this wedding'.  Venkatesh was aghast – he still replied with composure, ‘Sir, it is out of hard earned money’.  The officer retorted, ‘Please don’t act smart.  We have complete information on how much you earned from whom.  Better follow us, to avoid any ruckus’.

          Venkatesh was quietly led away, but this news spread like wildfire.  ‘We don’t want an alliance with corrupt people.  Anish, let’s go’, declared the boy’s parents, who now sought to believe themselves to be holy cows.  ‘If the banking Anti-Corruption Bureau gets to know of it, your son will be questioned on dowry’, remarked a guest, who knew of the price Anish commanded. That did not have a deterrent effect on them, and they walked out anyway; the ambience in the mandap changed from one of festivity till a while ago, to that of gloom and sorrow for the bride and her family. While some of the guests were upset at the development, some others gossiped, by force of habit.

          Just like Venkatesh admired Suresh’s corruption, some other colleague in his office, who craved to be in the bill-passing section and therefore had a ‘sour grapes’ feeling towards him, passed on the details of his corruption to the Anti-Corruption Bureau and arranged the raid in a way to hit him hard and ensure his transfer from the post.

          Venkatesh never thought of the idealistic alternative to happiness in life- Vani could stand by her feet and make her choice of the groom, with both of them perhaps not be earning too well but right. Then, the groom's family perhaps would not have walked out on the marriage unlike Anish's parents.  He should have known that if everyone behaved 'practical'ly, this would be the consequence, right? It was too late now to brood over what went wrong. If only a brilliant boy as he had realised that conscience was to be followed and that means justify ends, this story would not have ended this way!

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