Solicitous Epiphany

Spending a typical afternoon in Mantriji’s office at mantralay for a confirmed 3 PM appointment which was confirmed 2 days ago, I knew I would not be asked in before 5. My lunch with a college friend had taken me to the next door Inox food court our “hay” day’s hangout. The prawn torpedoes and murg kheema tawa paratha had not yet settled in my flat belly, which made my eyelids stick to each other like a Govinda - Karishma Kapoor dance number from the no. 1 movie days. But keeping my professional etiquettes intact I had reached Mantriji’s office at 2:50 sharp IST.
The term IST has been mocked in the past internationally due to the unprofessional, unpunctual & casual approach of some Indian leaders both corporate and political, using work load and tight schedules as an excuse for delaying their appointments. My case is quite different; I have grown used to this culture. Being a true blooded Indian, I have compromise & adamancy weaved into my DNA. Compromise helps me stay patient and flexible to the change in time &/or agenda; while adamancy helps me stay focused on my goals. When my turn finally came a peon came forward dressed in his white Durban uniform with a bright red belt and turban which often makes you wonder if you are in a monarch’s palace awaiting an august audience of his highness. He was no stranger to me, he asked me to follow him. I knew that this procedure had to be followed by my hand in pocket and out with a currency note magic trick for the Durban, it always brings a smile to his face, makes you commiserate his innocence. The degree of his smile and salaam that follow are co-related to the denomination of the currency note, this is the best way to understand the otherwise tough concept of ‘co-relation’.
As I entered the office chamber of Mantriji I was not surprised to find him not in his seat, he was in fact not in that spacious room. What I saw was more than 100 eyeballs scanning my every stride towards the antic chamber behind Mantriji’s empty chair. Some might have though of me as a very important person getting a green channel into the antic chamber, while others would have suspiciously looked at the bad I was carrying wondering if I was holding many smiling Gandhi faces inside. Truth is I did not qualify either of those possibilities. I enjoy this part when I get an easy ride through the office chamber ahead of senior polity, wealthy businessmen who are at the edge of their patience and various other dignitaries who have the credentials to make it to this room. The commoners and the poor have to wait outside the office doors in the non-ac comfort of the building corridor in the company of toilet sting and bureaucracy clutter.
While I was on my way in I saw several of my prospective “clients” who could do much better by coming on board with my team rather than sitting and investing hours in this office. Once inside I witnessed gawking eyes staring at me in the so-called antic chamber. Mantriji was in the middle of all action talking to a few delegates from a corporate house dressed in their finest Ermenegildo Zegna. Through the confidential flow of information, deals, negotiations & power bazaar Mantriji was finally able to get a glimpse of my face. Still completing his sentence he pointed towards a smaller room within the chamber.
That was my cue of a highly sensitive issue was to be addressed. I was escorted by his close aid for over 20 years, I was asked for the usual tea/coffee/ poha, as I had refused the menu while waiting outside I settled for a cup of Joe. I started scanning frantically through my phone for any activity that I might have missed concerning Mantriji in the past few days. Few minutes passed and with my coffee came Mantriji excusing himself from the assembly for an important meeting.
As we settled into a conversation and he started talking about the state of our state I soon realized that this was a non-agenda catch up meeting to gauge the political scenario. No concrete idea, words or suggestions were exchanged; we came out of the bunker after 50 minutes without a plan, agenda or a to-do list. All we did was chatted about everything.
When I got out, the antic chamber now looked like the office outside filled with far more people than I remembered when I went in. The office through which I had sailed, now barely gave me room to move towards the door. And the number of commoners outside the office doors had moved from plenty to enough to hold a rally.
I knew that Mantriji would meet with each one of these distressed souls before retiring for the day. As leaders our politicians and their associates that we know as 'babbus' do their fair share to push the files and decrease the paperwork lying on their desk in the ‘in’ tray. They meet the Janata who bring their woes to their doorsteps and try to resolve issues to the best of their powers. On my way back I saw the Mumbai life pass by and some stuck with me through the evening traffic. I wondered if there really is no lack of political will or lack of pro-active bureaucracy that hinders our progress. All we need is a little management and discipline which would ensure that the present machinery functions like a well oiled mechanism thrusting us towards development. The chaos and clutter could be reduced giving space to the decision makers and the policy enforcers to do their job a little better.