Satyakam

My early childhood has been witness to the transition of our society from a radio-generation to the Television legion.  The tall 20-feet antenna became a status symbol and the Sunday evening buzz on our streets moved into the living rooms watching the week-end feature film.

Those were the initial days of television euphoria and I rarely missed the weekend movies. One such movie watched on television seems to have had a lasting impact on my psyche and till date I find it difficult to overcome the influence.

‘Satyakam’ was a movie about a righteous young engineer, who lived his life by the book and took an unflinching and inflexible stance on his viewpoint on any subject.  Somewhere in the storyline he also had some guilt conscious, which I was too young to appreciate in those days, and therefore went about with an idealistic obsession that finally destroys him completely.

I assume it is this influence on my young impressionable mind that made me a stickler in most of my transactions with the external world, since the time I have become conscious of right and wrong.

This character, nevertheless, has come to me at a cost. Like the protagonist of ‘Satyakam’, I have been a loser in many of my transactions in the game of life.  This became more prominent and hurting as I moved up the ladder of my career.   In the initial stages of one’s work life, the responsibilities or the area of responsibility is clearer and with my kind of honesty and steadfastness, I had always been a good performer and a sought-after subordinate. As one scales the ladder in a professional life, the haziness grows. There are a few laid down rules and there are many unsaid commandments. Many things are supposed to be understood without a clear articulation from the superiors. I have resisted such duplicity and have sought to remove the vagueness – which I thought was my area of responsibility and a challenge to my analytical skills and diagnostic abilities. My absolutist passion always came in the way, or at least I assume so, when my superiors evaluated my ‘leadership’ or my ability to appreciate the ‘corporate culture’ or my ability to carry out transactions with all the crafted ambiguity.

 My obsession with ‘truth’ and ‘right’ and ‘politically correct’ had extended beyond my official disposition to my personal life as well.  I always took a long detour from my house to take the right, permitted ‘U’ turn to go to the other side of the road – even if that meant reaching late for a show, or pushing my folks to start 15 minutes early – to the much chagrin of my wife and children.  They failed to understand as to why, when the other hundred odd residents of my apartment complex took a chance by driving in the reverse direction for some 20 meters to take a short cut, I always insisted on taking the ‘right course’. Even if that meant an additional drive of half-a-kilometer and an additional time of 15 minutes considering a big traffic junction in between.

A few months back, as I was required to drop my daughter to her examination center for her all critical 12^th standard public exam, I was stuck at this traffic junction for longer than expected.  As the clock was ticking the tempers rose. I would not have liked my daughter to get tensed at that stage but was helpless.  As I had always observed that most of the traffic pile up at that point of time was primarily due to the local police allowing a number of sand Lorries to be parked on both sides of the road, ostensibly for a consideration, I too was getting furious at this reversal for a law-abiding citizen.  The panic and time pressure in the eyes of my daughter was visible and that hit me like a bolt. Was I too foolish? Was I impractical? Was I a novice? Was I a simpleton? Am I right in burning this extra petrol that comes at a heavy foreign exchange for the country – while a few law-makers make a mockery of the law? I was surely not a Gandhi to have abandoned my work and sit on a fast at the traffic signal, until the unauthorized Lorries were removed and some order was restored.  I was a simple law-caring citizen and wanted a decent predictable pass for myself.

As the wife of this ‘Satyakam’ protagonist had once said – “To produce something as beautiful as a fine piece of gold jewellery, you have to add an element of impurity” – I too perhaps needed to be ‘smart’. The ‘right’ perhaps is never static, it is contextual.  On that occasion, having realized the criticality of time, and having realized that roads were blocked and being helpless to correct the situation, I should have added that bit of ‘impurity’ to my clean self.

I am trying to be ‘smarter’ these days.  At least on occasions, early in the morning or late in the night, I do check the flow of traffic on the wrong side. And if the traffic flow is minimal, and if there is no policeman around, I do take a wrong cut. Am I doing a ‘wrong’? Am I saving the precious foreign exchange for my Government? I don’t know. But I know that there is a very thin line between being ethically weak and being a outright offender. Am I too close to that line? I don’t know.  I am just going through this new experience and I continue to feel guilty for that 20-meter stretch.  Beyond that stretch, the life seems to be normal.

The Four Boondi Laddoos

A National Festival like today’s Republic day brings back those childhood memories of my school. I studied in the Government Inter College, Kanpur. The three national festival days viz. the Independence Day, the Republic Day and the Gandhi Jayanthi were always celebrated with a lot of pomp and splendor by our standards of those days. We used to have some drills, some Prabhat Pheri, some good cultural programs and it ended with those standard four Boondi Laddoos.

The mornings started with a lot of excitement. Right from dawn, we used to have the small vendors running down the street, selling their product of the day – the tricolor flags, the tricolor badges, caps and what not. They wanted to catch the kids before they went to school. We used to pester our parents to give 10 paisa well in advance, on the previous night itself, so that we don’t end up finding them in the bathroom or busy in kitchen, at that crucial time when the vendor is running down our street.

My father worked for a defence establishment and hence the day was celebrated there as well – with equal solemnity. So, compared to the lazy start of the day today, it used to be a brisk morning with all of us finishing the morning chores animatedly to meet the target time for the flag hoisting.

The entire city wore festive attire. The major road junctions were decorated and popular songs of nationalistic fervor were played on loudspeakers. The evergreen songs like “Ae Mere Watan Ke Logon…” and “Kar Chale Hum Fida …” gave us goosebumps, every year and every time they played. A large framed photo of Gandhiji was a familiar site at all these places. Some areas that were traditional Congress bastions also had the photos of Nehru and Indira Gandhi alongside Gandhiji’s.

Dressed up in neat school uniforms, waiving the small tricolors in our hands, we rushed to the school – to be in time for the grand flag hoisting ceremony. We used to have an ex-serviceman as our sports teacher – Mr. Chitranshi. Full of energy, with a roaring voice and a motivating tone, he used to command us to do our special drill, while he banged the huge drum to match with our steps.

The cultural show used to be a mix of entertainment and education. There used to be some good oratory, some short skits, some original poetry and of course the long lecture from the principal or one of the teachers. The senior Hindi teacher – Mr. Gaya Prasad Mishra was good in making engaging speeches. The MC of the show used to be another teacher – was it R.P Mishra /Sharma ? I think yes, his son was in my class – Ravi Kumar. There was one senior student – who had his standard original rendition – that used to start with – “Kaun Kahta Hai ki Bapu Mar Gaya ….” . And the same used to change to “Kaun Kahta Hai ki Nehru Mar Gaya..” on the Children’s Day. Guys always waited for the grand finale – a film song by one Bhola Nath Dhol. He used the desk as a Tabla or Drum and used to provide a good musical end to the program. But once, while he was playing the film music, the then principal N.J Paul – who perhaps was not in a good mood that day – stopped him in between as he would not allow a film song. That was shocking for all of us and we genuinely felt bad for Bhola Nath.

And then followed the queuing up for sweets distribution. We lined up along the long gallery and the support staff of the school – the two names that I can recall – Rajaram and Chandrashekhar used to distribute sweets to us. It used to be a pack of four Boondi Laddoos that we all enjoyed together. Some of the enterprising classmates tried various means to get into the queue once again to take a second round of Laddoos. The entry gates to the hall were generally guarded by the teachers but still some of the enthusiastic souls managed to get in. In the melee of the queue, some even tried by extending both their hands at different heights and often got two handfuls of Laddoos. Only once in those 7 years did someone try for a change of menu – we got two Laddoos and two Samosas instead of the standard four Laddoos. But that could not beat the charm of four Laddoos and the original menu was restored subsequently. Today, at this age, I feel uncomfortable eating more than one Laddoo at a time and still wonder how we ate four at a time and scampered for another set of four.

But when I see now – most of the schools declare a holiday, at least in this large IT capital of the country that I live in. There are no flag hoisting ceremonies. There are no festivities. And there is no recognition of the importance of these national holidays – there is no sense of pride. There are no vendors in the morning, running down the streets to make that last deal for their paper flags. And there are no Laddoos, of course – while I still have that lingering taste of those childhood Laddoos in my mouth.

Let's Move On

In my twenty two years of work experience, I have come across numerous situations when the Management teams have sat together to do a detailed review of a failure. On most of the occasions, after a detailed analysis, after establishing some facts, after taking cognizance of the slip-ups, after taking note of the learning’s, the final declamation has been – Let’s move on. Of late, I have seen extensive use and abuse of this phrase, in letter or in spirit, in corporate world and in polity, in workplace and at home, in marriage – within and without.
Over the years, I have learnt, albeit the hard way, that the best Manager is the one who is capable of successfully diffusing a situation. It is not necessary that every statement, every dialogue and every result should be black and white. The intervention should be capable of dousing a fire – period. This principle emanates from a strong Consulting mindset. The Consultant community, in any sphere of life, thrives on the continuum. That keeps their meter running. That keeps their equity high among the stakeholders – for, they make sure the machinery keeps moving. And that helps the larger (read, the meatier) cause. And so, let’s move on.
True that the earth must not stop revolving, just because there are earthquakes, and there are volcanic eruptions and there are Tsunami’s. But it is best to leave the cosmic accountabilities to the God. We need to worry about the responsibility of our actions. While the show must go on, it cannot and should not dilute the conscientiousness. If finding a fit for the noose is not a preferred option always, non-admittance of guilt is also not acceptable. For, admission of guilt is the first step towards correction. I am certainly not advocating the style of a certain Chief Minister of yesteryears, who used to submit his resignation on moral grounds at the drop of a hat. Backing out from one’s responsibility is also not the idea of answerability. On the other extreme, we have umpteen numbers of cases in front of us, where we have known the reasons for the damage but the accountability is never fixed.
Scene – Bhopal One: The day after, rather the week after the tragedy. A man of foreign origin, considered responsible for a holocaust, is worried about his security and his future. He uses his contacts and taps on the best of his network to secure his safety. On the side of the Government there are advisers; there are consultants who are responsible to make sure that things do not come to a halt. The local Government and the bosses at the Center have to oblige. For, the holocaust is a thing of the past. People have died. No action can bring them back. There are other larger interests that cannot be jeopardized for a small emotional gain. Punishments can be discussed, let the law take its own course; compensations can be settled later, let us evaluate the loss. The law and order has to be restored; jurisprudence has to prevail; nothing will come out of an emotional outburst. Let’s move on.
Scene – Bhopal Two: The day after, rather the week after the 26-year long waited judgment. The Harvard trained trouble-shooter heads the crack team. He is a seasoned manager. So, the special body does a reassessment of the situation. Demands the very man they released in another situation; demands a much higher compensation than what they themselves negotiated and settled for; achieves the objective of diverting attention from the events that happened 26 years back. The situation is diffused; the crisis is managed – for the next 26 years, perhaps. And now, let’s move on.
Scene – Mangalore One: There is a proposal for building an International Airport. There are multiple options for the right location to choose. No prizes for guessing that such an exercise is bound to go through various pushes and pulls. Concerns on suitability of the chosen location as a table-top air-strip; concerns on environment; concerns on safety. There are statements for and against. All important statements are recorded and quoted. The ex-pilot Prime Minister makes an enthusiastic statement that the beautiful airport challenges the skills of the pilot. The statement is used as a positive affirmation. What skills and what challenges? Am I traveling to help the pilot hone his skills? Am I traveling to test the maneuvering skills of the pilot at the risk of my life? No, gentlemen. I am traveling to attend my business; I am traveling to meet my family; I am traveling to attend my sister’s marriage; I am traveling to attend the funeral of a beloved one. Somebody has got something wrong there.
Scene – Mangalore Two: The most feared apprehensions come true. A passenger plane, carrying 160 people onboard, lands on this table-top and slides down the table into the valley. The politicians get back to their business, history is digged; daggers are drawn; names are called. Who ordered the airport at such a risky place; who recruited the foreign pilot; did we go through his credentials at all? We get into rounds of questions and counter questions; answers and rejoinders. Enquiry ordered. As the days pass, as the bodies are handed over and cremated – the next flight lands on the very same airport. The table-top is again operational. Questions and counter questions; answers and rejoinders have all been forgotten. Let’s move on.
Scene: Bangalore One: the city that everyone promised to make over to Singapore. It is a nightmare to traverse through the city during rains. But for kids of course the rains are fun – jumping over the puddles, getting drenched in the downpour, playing with paper boats – the modern day gadgets too have not been able to outclass these small pleasures. Last year, after a similar fun-filled rain, a young boy was walking down the street holding the ever-assuring safe hands of his mother. All of a sudden, he was gone – he fell into an open drain that was over-flowing. Even after days of search, by the firemen, and by the army, his body could not be traced. Life came to a stand-still for the shocked mother but for the administrators, after a full round of political one-upmanship, life came back to normalcy pretty quickly. No concrete actions other than some flag-march kind of processions by politicians. The spirit was – accidents do happen, let’s move on.
The rains come every year and so have come again this year as well. The intensity appears to be the same; the open drains are very much there; the water logging has always been part of life in this season; some of the drains are cleaned but the dump lies next to the open drains. One good rain and all this dump flows back into the drain. That is perhaps our idea of ‘Recycling’ – recycling work and recycling contracts. People have learnt to live with this apathy. They have devised their own security the F-security – that suggests to always following someone when you are wading through overflowing waters. But unfortunately, someone has to be at the front and he is the one who is at risk. Nothing much has changed since the time when an entire family driving down in a car was swept away to death in a similar flooding drain a few years ago. Neither a responsibility was fixed at that time nor was it done now. It is the same indifference and the same notion, that the accidents do take place – Let’s move on.
Scene: Bangalore Two: Another rainy season – it is just the pre-monsoon, a lot more is yet to come. A young 17 year old girl, ambitious, hardworking with sparkling dreams in her eyes of doing well in her college to join a premier institute and do well in life. But all those dreams of hers and that of her parents were shattered as the wall she was standing beside, to protect herself from rains, collapsed. This was recently built by a contractor for the Government College. The fact that the contractor was also a local politician was not a surprise, the fact that a lot of political rhetoric was exchanged is not a surprise, the fact that an enquiry has been ordered is not a surprise, the fact that some technical reasons will be found will not be a surprise, the fact that the probe will complete long after people have erased this from their memory will not be a surprise, the fact that such walls will continue to be built will not be a surprise, the fact that rains will continue to come will not be a surprise, and the fact that such accidents will continue to happen will not be a surprise. Let’s move on.
This has become a national character for us. So much so that even after the most shocking and the most outrageous attack on the Indian democracy in Mumbai on 26th November 2008, the state home minister made an equally disgraceful statement, in a matter of fact way, about such ‘small’ incidents taking place in ‘big’ cities. So, no big deal – Let’s move on. It is another issue that the statement raised enough political dust that the Government had no choice but to settle the dirt by removing this Minister.
Those who seek shelter under their own explanation of the teachings of Krishna in Bhagavad-Gita might quote numerous instances from the scenes of the epic war where Krishna had given practical and pragmatic explanations to the otherwise controversial actions bordering close to the unethical line. I can foresee these enthusiasts writing a new chapter of Mahabharata where the Pandavas are sitting in a room with Krishna and Yudhisthir is brooding on that one ethically questionable but politically correct line that he spoke that crushed the morale of his mentor Dronacharya – “Yes, Ashwathama – the elephant – is dead”. And when he said “the elephant”, Krishna blew his conch that dimmed Yudhishthir’s words and all that Dronacharya heard was – “Yes, Ashwathama …. is dead”. Aswathama, being Dronacharya’s son, a valiant warrior and a ‘Chiranjeevi’; Dronacharya was crestfallen at this ‘planted’ news and Krishna directed the Pandava army not to lose time and aim at Dronacharya. I am sure, this chapter would end with the finality of a statement from Krishna to Yudhishthir – “This was destined to happen. You have followed the rules of the game and have not done any wrong. So, stop brooding about this. Let’s move on…..

Nuisance of being a perfectionist

I may not be perfect but am surely a perfectionist. And do expect a perfect system around me.

This has had its problems – problems for me, problems for my peers, problems for my juniors, problems for my seniors. I have been told time and again that the surrounds are not always perfect. That the world is not always fair. That things do go wrong but we have to move on. I have never had problems with this ‘move on’ but always wanted the responsibility to be fixed and that people should own up.

My experiences in the last few weeks have pulled me down on this philosophy of mine. I, the one who always wanted a perfect world, have been let down on so many occasions by so many people that I have started realizing that I cannot have control on every rotation and every revolution of this earth. There are things beyond my control, and even if I hold one key of these events, it hardly has any influence on these.

To share a few, I have bought a new flat and after some due diligence, I had placed the order on an interior decorator. Another colleague of mine had got his work done through this agency and was pretty satisfied. My idea of engaging an interior decorator was to make sure that things do not fall apart – as I would not be able to spend time on monitoring the work. I had other offers of some very good and time tested carpenters but due to the fact I was not in a position to spare my managerial bandwidth for this work, I chose to go with a professional interior decorator.

Initially, the things were fine, but then as I started visiting the site over the weekends, I started seeing the problems. There were huge quality issues, I had to get some basics corrected. Clearly, the work was given to a carpenter who was working without any supervision. All the promises made by the professionals were not to be seen. They were hardly visiting the site and a lot of things had to be corrected, redone after my intervention.

This was a frustrating affair, and due to the time pressure, I started accepting some of the mistakes. This was, in turn, building up a turbulent volcano inside me. And as it happens, I lost my cool one day. But after all the mud-slinging and arguments, and after all the assurances of improving the quality checks, and after all the promises of completing the work on time, I am struggling even today to move into my new house.

Unlike my work, here I was the client and I thought I was holding at least one key to this problem. But that was not so. I realized soon that not everything can be perfect, not every person looks at quality the way I look, not every person is as responsive as I think I am. Right from the fact that I always reached the meeting spot on time – as against the interiors reaching 1-2 hours late, to the fact that I have always kept my promises on making advance payments, I always found myself short-changed. The amount of time that I had spent on correcting their mistakes, I could have well managed with a roadside carpenter – with my inputs.

The same is the fate with some other work that I was forced to offer outside this deal – to the builder or to other vendors. The quality has been poor and I have had to run around these folks to get the minimum level of standards. The one key of payments that I thought I was holding was not enough. For, having completed some shabby work, these people start stalking you for the final payments. And when even after repeated interventions, you don’t get the quality work of your expectations, you finally compromise and give up. Because, you cannot do a street-fight. You cannot run behind the legal apparatus and you cannot add to your cup of woes that is already full.

Next, I wanted to buy a laptop for my daughter, Smriti - on her birthday. After some research, I zeroed in on Acer - which appeared to be value for money. The dealer made great promises and attractive offers like free mouse, free Tata Foton+ etc. When i went to buy, he insisted on first swiping my credit card - even before showing the piece to me. As I was keen on buying the stuff on the same day, I relented. The fun started thereafter. After he opened the laptop box and showed the contents to me, I asked for the Tata Foton broadband card. This was not immediately available. I was told to come the next day. I did make some fuss but had no options. The poor quality of service and unprofessional attitude did hit me. Then days passed by - it took one full week when i had to go over to the shop and camp their for a good 4 hours before i could get my instrument. Again, the identity and address proof that i had given to the dealer was misplace and they informed me about this in a very casual manner. I was supposed to give another copy. Now, this was alarming. I had heard about a friend losing his identity proof to a credit card seller - who never turned back after collecting the proof. It was only after a good 6 months that my friend realized that someone had taken a card in his name and he was now supposed to make good the purchases made out of "his" card. Again, I had no choice but to relent.
So what, the fact that not everything can be perfect, the fact that everything does not revolve around you, the fact that my seniors have been trying to make me understand has finally dawned upon me. I realize that it is futile to have high hopes, it is painful to have high expectations – I have surely heard about the famour Gita Shloka – Karmanye Vadhikaraste Ma Faleshu Kadachena…. But never thought it to be so true.

Last few days, I have also observed that I have curtailed my expectations to a large extent – not perfected this art thou – expectations from my team, expectations from my seniors, expectations from my organization, expectations from my clients, expectations from my kids and expectations from my wife ( I admit, here I have not been very successful though). And I am finding myself more composed, more balanced – though not necessarily happier. Or, I am yet to realize that.

Trip to Vaishno Devi

Poonam, my wife, had vowed to visit the Vaishno Devi shrine some 2 years back. After a lot of deliberation, mulling, allaying concerns of kids' ability to walk for 11-12 kms on a steep ridge, making sure they will be able to sustain the stamina against the strain with the added attraction of accompanying their friends, we finally embarked upon this pilgrimage.

We planned a 2 week trip to Delhi, Lucknow and Vaishnodevi. We did fine up to Delhi, stayed there for 2 days and moved on to Lucknow. On the way to Lucknow, Poonam had small accident at the Delhi Metro Station – the small pedestal at the security booth their slipped as she stepped over that. She fell down with the bag and hurt her foot. We managed with a pain-killer spray that I could thankfully get at New Delhi Railway Station. However, we realized and further confirmed with a Doctor in Lucknow that Poonam in fact had fractured her foot. The two day trip to Lucknow thus ended in a disaster. No outings, no shopping for Lucknavi Chiken Suit, no chaats – the kids were really upset with their mother for being a spoilsport.

Back in Delhi, we were in two minds. Can Poonam still make it to Vaishno Devi? She was burdened by that promise that she had made 2 years back and had planned meticulously for this trip. She was so close to reaching there and did not want to miss this opportunity. On the other hand, we knew that despite having the pony’s, despite the possibility of a priority darshan slip, the final leg is going to be quite messy. We Indians cannot live without that final stage jostling that perhaps gives an added kick to the entire darshan experience. It perhaps gives a heightened pleasure and a sense of renunciation. So, better sense prevailed after some debate and we finally decided to cancel Poonam’s ticket. The kids agreed to travel with me – we of course had the other family traveling with us, who had kids of the same age.

We had a pleasant trip to Jammu by Rajdhani Express and we hired a cab there to go to Katra – the base for Vaishno Devi. It was early in the morning and hence was quite pleasant. We started the trekking at around 10 am. As the first half of the trek is quite steep, we decided to hire the pony’s for all of us up to Aadhkuari. The next half trip was taken on foot. This was much better that what I had taken in the past – some 10 years back. That used be a steep stretch – the new one was more of a plain. The kids were comfortable and we reached Bhawan – the holy abode of the deity, well in time.

While I have always liked long walks, it was somewhat special this time. I enjoyed these walks with my daughters. Talking with them about various things – I had never had such long 5-6 hour exclusive time with them for quite a long time I suppose. While Kritika, the younger one was her usual enthusiastic self, the older one, Smriti had good insights into the realities of life.

On the way back, we discussed about how these pony-wallahs and the Pitthu’s (the one’s who carry your luggage or even carry some kids and elderly folks on their back) carry loads on their back on such steep treks. We also discussed as to how the incomes of such people who solely depend on manual labour depend solely on their health. If they don’t eat well and if they don’t keep good health, they are out of job. And how long can they work? Whether the Shrine Board has any pension policy for these people – who facilitate the divine audience with the deity to hundreds of people every day.

As I spoke to some of these boys, I realized that they come from far flung areas of the state – as far as Poonch – Rajouri, as they do not get any other opportunities for work there. And it is interesting to note that most of these people are Muslims and they facilitate all their Hindu clients to fulfill their religious aspirations. A good example of a serene confluence for independent socio-religious demands.
The return trip was quick – we had a very good ‘darshan’ of Vaishno Devi and were charged up to get back to Delhi. The kids were excited on the way back and we completed the trek very comfortably. The prospect of a brief stop-over at Café Coffee Day on the way back, somewhere mid-way on the trek, could have made the descend that much more easier, I suppose.

Overall, we enjoyed – the kids enjoyed the trek, I enjoyed their company, but we missed Poonam. She will surely have another opportunity soon. But she was happy that we all could make it to the deity and so half the promise was kept. I am sure, the deity will be generous enough to facilitate another occasion for Poonam to have the holy ‘darshan’ of Hers.

Mature Leadership

I have grown from the ranks, through multiple organizations, and am now a middle level executive in a large organization.
I have so far been pretty satisfied with my growth but of late, I often find myself at the cross-roads. My natural instinct forces me to take some action that is not appreciated by my bosses and the path that they expect me to take does not convince me at all.
The dilemma has already cost me dearly, in terms of my appraisal. This is only the second time in my long career that I have got a rating less than the top one. Though it is difficult to change one’s basic instincts at such a late stage in life, I am still trying my best to curb my natural behaviour to suit the larger acceptability.
In Management jargon, emotional strength, matured leadership, forward-looking approach, result-oriented etc are the terms that are used by the bosses to their fullest advantage. They use these terms to make you do what they want you to do, without making you feel, what you are doing is not what you should be doing and that by suggesting that approach the boss is not being inconsistent. I find the terms like ‘lack of expression’, ‘man of few words’, ‘action-oriented’ etc can be used to sound appropriate in similar situations, depending upon the person to whom these are being attributed to.
Recently, there was an incident in Bangalore, where a 6-7 year old child was swept away by the gushing waters in a storm water drain, as he was walking, holding on to his mother’s hands, oblivious of the dangers that some unscrupulous government workers can leave behind in the shape of an open man-hole. The search for the body has continued for about 10 days, with Army joining hands with the local authorities tracing through the flow of waters, but with no success.
While the family and friends have been struggling to overcome the shock and pain of losing a loved one in front of their eyes, the chief of the local civic body has made some most unsavory statements. His very first statement was that if the civic body was found guilty, they would pay a compensation of Rs. 1 Lac – what an obnoxious first statement from senior civil servant.
Not too different from the legendary ‘Bade-Bade shaharon mein chhote mote hadse to hote hi rahte hain…..” that took away a minister’s job – of course, after a large scale public outcry.
While the people at large and the entire intelligentsia of the city have condemned such behaviour and have sought accountability, the government has sided with its officials. The government has maintained that the officials have made efforts but results can not be in their control.
That is the most unfortunate part of the governance that I correlate in my work environment as well. Some demonstration of action, and that too a reaction to be precise, is enough to get going. Accountability is the last thing in their minds, the machinery should keep moving. Forward-looking, solution-oriented, positive-attitude, not getting stuck by small road-blocks.
As I am adapting to the middle-management blues, where there is no room for protest, you are part of the management. You need to be positive, you can not find faults with the inconsistent policies. I am only afraid that I am not treading a path that will lead to stage when I too will end up making such detestable statements or taking abhorrent actions.
I hope not. I wouldn’t want to be in such a leadership layer that will end up being insensitive. The challenge being, it is a slow poison and as you start enjoying the taste, it starts working on your inner self.