Position, Emotion and Connection!!!

You must have heard “Honesty stands at the gate and knocks, and BRIBERY enters in”. Most of times this entry is facilitated by a fee in cash or kind, but wait, before you conclude that these are the only two options, read out the “carp” below and get enlightened to the other better options.

My first brush with “facilitation fee” came in the year 1997, in Ranchi. In fact I remember the exact date, it was 13^th March 1997. I completed my second last paper of 12^th board exams and there was a week’s gap for the last one. I and my friends were fed up with torturous two months of continuous studies and so we decided to take a break (anyways, the last paper was that of Mathematics – sort of a cakewalk for three of us). During those days a movie was the best balm in the town, and so the unanimous choice was to go for the latest Salman and Karishma starrer “Judwaa”.

Now you can understand the kind of risk involved in taking such a break that too in the mid of 12^th board exams. But then we were clever enough. In the name of combined studies, we got the permission for 4-5 hours in the day and decided to go for the morning show so that we can spend the remaining time of the day studying mathematics. With these noble thoughts the three of us sat on the Bajaj Chetak and zoomed to the town. Triple loading was not allowed on a two-wheeler add to that if none of the riders have the driving license then you can imagine the magnitude of crime and the “facilitation fee” required to sail through. Fortunately in the morning we were able to get pass the traffic cops and reached the theatre in time. Probably it was too early for them to reach their duty.

The 2 hours of latka-jhatka were really good, compared to what happened next. After watching the movie, we started with triple load on “Humara Bajaj” and carefully criss-crossed the bylanes avoiding all major junctions. We were able to beat 4-5 traffic posts but at the second last post our luck went dry. There weren't any shortcuts. We were forced to take the main road. One of my friend suggested that if one of us gets down and cross the signal on foot then no one will notice and after crossing the signal we can continue are bumpy triple ride. But then who will sacrifice? Who will get down and walk for 5 minutes? It was a tough decision to make.

My friend who was driving saw around, there wasn’t a single traffic cop in sight. He thought of taking a calculated risk – if he increases the speed at the signal he can just pass through without those pot-bellied cops could catch us. This over-confidence killed us! Probably this was Dhoom_Ver_0.1. The only difference was that instead of 3 guys riding 3 bikes (Suzuki, Ducati et.al.), we were 3 guys riding 1 scooter (Bajaj Chetak).

Now the moment we were crossing the signal another truck came from the opposite end. My friend tried to overtake the truck so he moved to one of the side; at this point a cop came charging his stick at us from no-where. Still my friend didn’t give up, he tried to speed for some more distance, till it was too late and we were forced to stop behind a car. By this time the traffic cop was furious and was seething in rage. He came and was about to beat us with his stick, but then looking at our age decided otherwise.

First came the abuses and then the cross-examination of the criminals – we had committed the worst possible crime – triple loading on two wheeler, driving without license and add to that made the traffic cop run like a wild dog for a good half a kilometer. I knew that our good times are over, but wished if for a moment I get the powers of Salman and I would have kicked this “good for nothing” cop and would have drove the scooter all the way to home, but then I am not Salman and this was reality.

The cop had found its prey for the day; he asked us to come to the side and took the keys of our scooter. He said that scooter is being seized; the owner needs to come and collect it from the court room. We started pleading, giving all possible lame excuses and hoped against all hopes that the cop will melt down and let us go. But to break a rock you need dynamite and we were looking hard for that dynamite. My friend who brought his uncle’s scooter was literally shaking – the only one who kept his cool and was sure to overcome this was my friend who was driving the scooter. He kept pleading for good 15 min. By this time the cop understood that we are not going to pay him a dime (though I had the cash to pay the facilitation fee, but my friend signaled not to be fool and keep my mouth shut).

The cop took us all the way to a nearby traffic checkpost, where a senior cop was relaxing on his chair. The interrogation began once again, it was getting late and our 4-5 hrs of combined study timeline was coming to a close. Something had to happen and happen soon. The senior cop started the interrogation with my friend who brought the scooter. The tone of asking questions was threatening, but my friend kept his cool and was answering one by one. Then the cop asked about his father, he replied that his father is a high ranking police officer of Bihar government in the nearby district. The cop was shocked but he tried to control the expressions on his face. He was quite for a moment; probably weighing his options and then he started asking questions to my next friend. By the time my second friend answered the details of his father (His father was a noted and famous businessman in the city), I fathomed that the dynamite has finally arrived. Then came my turn, he asked my name and then straight to my father’s details. Obviously my father was not a high ranking official nor a big businessman, but who cared, the dynamite was in place and the trigger was pulled.

In the next five minutes that cop started giving us gyaan about behaving in public life, given that we belong to such good families and then about what should be our focus in life and a few more things which didn’t mattered anyways.

The “Position” paid for the “facilitation”.

The next time when I found that there can be better form of facilitation was in the year 2000. I was in my 2^nd year of graduation at “Patna College”. We had a compulsory subject on “Hindi literature”. As is the fate of Hindi in India, no one paid attention to this subject (Me included). I didn’t even bothered about the lecture schedule leave alone attending it. Well things were going fine till the dates for final exams were announced. Towards the end of the term, the notice board read – “Students who fail to satisfy the attendance criteria in all the subjects will not be allowed to appear in the exams”. The devil had arrived, fortunately there was a way out from this devil. The peon of the Hindi department was known to cash upon this annual opportunity. The facilitation fee was charged to get the attendance sheet fudged and updated. The quantum of fee was a direct function of the quantum of attendance shortage. For my case the fee was turning out to be upwards of 300 bucks. For an unemployed undergrad getting 300 bucks for facilitation fee was not easy. I had two options – tell a lie and get the money from family or friend else try out some trick so that the devil (the peon) gives me an exception.

I decided to try my luck against the devil. On a Friday afternoon I went to meet this guy after the lunch hours. This was the time when the peon used to relax and was most likely to be found in the department office. He was approaching his retirement and probably this annual bounty was his way off securing his post-retirement life. Still taking my chances I met him outside the department office, he understood from my face that I am going to be his next prey. He asked me what I want at this hour of the day (as if he was unaware of the reasons). I thought of starting with excuses, but I had gut feeling that this guy will not even listen to that, perhaps some emotional blackmail will work. But how, I had no clue! I replied “I have an attendance shortfall, and I will not be allowed to appear in the exams if the attendance is not met”. Immediately came the reply – “त हम बोले थे क्लास नहीं करने को” (Did I asked you not to attend the classes). Oh man! This is gonna be tough. I gathered my composure and changed my approach, starting with a helpless look and replied in a childish tone – “I was preparing for the competitive exams, the coaching timings clashes with the Hindi lecture. You know the future lies in clearing the exams, even your own child would have been doing the same”. I don’t know if he saw his son’s face in me or was impressed by my distressed look, but one thing was sure – I hit the bull’s eye. After emotionally blackmailing him for a few more minutes he updated my attendance and said “बेटा अच्छे से तैयारी करो... यहाँ कुछ नहीं रखा है, जिंदगी में आगे बढ़ने के लिए बहुत मेहनत की जरुरत है” (Son, work harder, there is nothing for you over here... its only the hard work which will take you ahead in life). These words were surprising, yet it solved the problem. 

This time “Emotion” paid for the “facilitation”.

The last incidence which I remember where I used the right connection for the first time for getting things facilitated was in the year 2005. I was working with Canara Bank as a trainee officer and was posted at one of the branch at Delhi. In the same branch there was a manager who was an active member of the “Canara Bank Officer’s Association” and was well connected to the union president and secretary.

I was due for my final transfer and in the month of May’05 I got my transfer orders. After working in Mumbai and Delhi, the bank asked me to move to one of the remotest village in Bihar – “Bhore”. Believe me I had not even heard of this place before I read my transfer orders and I am sure even today this place does not figure on “Google Earth”. Accepting this transfer was like a suicidal step in my career, so I wrote back to the headquarters asking for a swap with anyone else who is willing to go to this place (And there were more than 50 candidates who were eager to swap my place, just because this place was near to their native). My request was thrown into the trash can and within a week I got a reply with a big NO.

I almost gave up and had decided to put down my papers. Then in one of the discussion in the office, my fellow officer suggested to talk to that manager. He warned me that the manager is fickle minded, so be careful with the words you chose. Hmm… I saw a glimmer of hope, and went to the manager. I told him about the issue, showed him the letter I received from headquarters and told him that as a last option I am contemplating to put down my papers, if things don’t workout.

After listening to my details for 10 minutes, he brought out a small telephone diary from his pocket and dialed a number. I don’t know whom he was talking to over phone, but he was talking about me. After putting down the receiver, he asked me to meet someone the next day at union office. I felt that he is trying to skirt the responsibility and faith I reposed in him. Still I had little options, so I went to the union office the next day, with my transfer letter and the reply which I got from headquarters.

I was so tensed that I left the office early and was into the union office at 4.30 pm itself. This was the first time I went to the union office and had no clue what to do. I enquired with a person sitting there about the name of the person I was asked to meet, he looked at my face and asked me why I want to meet him. He couldn’t believe that I was an officer with the bank and I had to show my ID card as a proof. Then he went inside the cabin of the concerned person and I noted that the person I am supposed to meet was the general secretary of the union. I was asked to get into the cabin after a short wait of 5 min. Here I was sitting in front of the general secretary of the “Canara Bank Officer’s Association”, the person who normally is unreachable is giving me an audience and listening to my issue.

I narrated the details, and the next moment, the general secretary dialed a number. On the other side of the telephone line was the General Manager, Personnel Wing of Canara Bank. In the next 4 days I got my modified transfer letter. From “Bhore” I got transferred to “Bangalore” and here I am writing blogs :)

Finally the “Connection” paid for the “facilitation”.

So remember these tricks of trade before you shell out the facilitation fee. In popular Indian lingo we call this as – जुगार. Explore more such जुगार and share it with the world to facilitate the evolution of a facilitation free world.