Post

I had always wanted to get into the civil service. It was the only
occupation that enabled one to think like an average householder and
still be paid for it. In most other jobs one needed to compartmentalize
and think about just one aspect of life. But a man or woman in the
administrative service could be responsible for just about everything
and that is what made the job so interesting. I did my masters in
geography and thereafter took the civil service examination. With some
hard work and little luck I was placed in the top hundred. I was posted
as Sub-divisional Officer(SDO) in Bogport, a town famous for its silk
trade. I was happy because Bogport had all the facilities of a big city
without the attendant congestion.
From Calcutta I flew to Patan. From there a government car took me to
Bogport. I had the choice of taking the train but this seemed grander.
The only other person in the car was Monty, my driver. He was tall and
looked very solid. As the car left Patan city and took the state
highway I felt great relief. The exams had been tough and the training
in Simla less than exciting. Now, I was on my own and free to do what I
wanted. I asked Monty about his family and children. He gave me all the
solicited information but very reluctantly. I felt he was not willing
to concede my superiority right away. After a while I fell asleep. When
I woke my luggage was being unloaded. The car stood before a
gothic-looking house. It was painted in red and white. I was informed
that this was the residence allotted to me. It was in the heart of
Bogport town and close to the market and cinema hall. I felt thrilled.
My official residence had seven bedrooms, two cooks, three bearers and
a gardener. I had lived in a one-bedroom flat all my life and this was
like paradise to me. I asked everyone to get back to work.
I had a visitor next morning. He was called Lal. Mr Lal was a builder
by profession. A building contractor is what he was really. Almost all
government structures in the town had been constructed by him. Mr Lal
had brought me a lot of things. There were designer clothes, french
perfumes, swiss chocolates and jewellery. I did not know what to do. My
first instinct was to return everything right away. But I was afraid
that everyone would learn about Mr Lal's visit and somehow I would be
regarded bad. I exchanged a few words with Mr Lal and then told him
very clearly that I would not be able to do any favours. Mr Lal smiled
and went his way.
I liked my work. The big problems, the important decisions, the clear
thinking were all that I had always dreamt of. People were always
showing me respect and saying nice things. It was like an
acknowledgement of my goodness. But things were not always hunky-dory.
I became friends with a silk trader, Mr Soda. He would visit me in the
evenings. We would chat about the carefree days of youth which were so
beautiful. He invited me to dinner a few times. His house was really a
palace. One day while eating at his dining table I felt that I was
being photographed. I looked around and there it was. From behind the
drapes a man with a video camera was recording the conversation we were
having. I said nothing to Soda but mentioned it to my secretary Sinha
the next day. He smiled knowingly and was about to leave the room when
I expressed my doubts. Sinha nodded in reply. It was like this. Soda
would ask government officers to visit him. Once they got used to the
wining and dining at his house he would ask a photographer to capture
them on film. The officers would be caught in various compromising
positions and then be forced to do what Soda told them. I was lucky to
have found out in good time.
My driver Monty used to live near Bogport railway station. The district
collector's office which was also My office was quite close to the
station too. Naturally Monty would walk to work every morning. At
night, however things were a little different. Along the route which
Monty took to office was a huge desolate open field. The local people
believed that after sundown this field was visited by ghosts. Five
months into my stay in Bogport riots broke out in the city. On one
friday night I was required to visit a shantytown where there had been
some stone-pelting. I was feeling somewhat unsure and hence I called up
Monty. I requested him to come so that he could accompany me to the
affected area. Monty who was big and strong agreed readily. After
waiting for two hours the collector and I went by ourselves. Monty was
found dead next morning in the ghost's field. It was not clear how he
lost his life but the locals believed it was the work of ghosts.
Eight months had passed. I now considered myself a typical civil
service person. And then it happened. The collector was away in Patan.
His son studied in a residential school in Wellington, south India. The
boy was in Bogport for the summer break. While returning home after a
film, Ronnie, the son of the district collector was kidnapped. No one
knew how the abduction had occurred or what ransom was asked because no
demands were made. Along with the police chief and the home-guards I
looked for Ronnie all over the district. We raided known hideouts of
hoodlums, sought out the usual trouble-makers and kept a watch on all
commercial activity. It was a cleansing operation really. In the end it
was all of no use. The district collector returned from Patan, son in
tow. It seems Ronnie was supposed to go with the collector the morning
he left for Patan. Since that did not happen a family friend drove
Ronnie to Patan. And Ronnie's mother had forgotten all this completely.
What an anticlimax! It was an important lesson for me. I learnt that my
work had to be taken seriously but the end-result was more important
than work itself.