Constip(n)ation

I have well-wishers who advise me not to continue this blog. I have others suggesting that I stop taking pot shots at Babus- the class to which I belong. There are some who are waiting for my next post claiming that it is oxygen for their souls. (I find that hard to believe). All in all, life changed so much in the past two months and it is hard to find time to keep this going. The sensitivity of my job calls for high discretion. The pitfalls ahead suggest that I maintain a low profile. Some say that I could always write on non-controversial subjects- but I am not really cut out to be a good food/music/art/book critic. And I am sure my readers are not dying to hear what I have to say about such exquisite things in life. So I plod on, impervious to the dangers…

But I just can’t help being harsh to Babus- in spite of being one for the last 19 years of my life. I am no Minister whose tweets are read by millions. For the handful of readers, I can afford to open a window to my thoughts, I am increasingly irritated by the hierarchical, divisive and ossified Delhi Babu culture. Delhi's Babudom is almost a constipated republic by itself!!! A dialogue between two Babus is as complex as a medieval mating ritual. Sample this…. I get a call early in the day. It is from the Personal Assistant of an ex-Babu, who took voluntary retirement and is presently earning megabucks in the private sector. The PA explains that the worthy gentleman who is about to condescend to talk to me is actually a retired government official who belongs to (a) a certain ancient batch of the civil services (b) a three letter elite service (c) a certain state cadre. In other words, the name of the service, year of allotment into civil service and an abbreviation of the state which he lorded over are appendages to his name and are expected to open many doors in Delhi. I am supposed to feel privileged and tickled by the fact that this grey eminence has deigned to talk to me. The reason for this roundabout way of introducing oneself is simple- he expects a rebuff from me if he approaches me directly, as a private individual.

Every conversation in bureaucracy is preceded by foreplay ( yeah there is something intensely sexual about the whole thing- the restless anticipation, excitement, the fear of rejection, the heart-thumping sense of risk are all part of it) which seeks to establish power equations between the two participants. The swagger in your walk, the clothes you wear and the sheer confidence that you permeate makes a lot of difference to how you are treated. Add a dollop of weighty introduction and expect things to go your way. I wouldn’t say that this is typical of Delhi alone. It is prevalent in other societies too, albeit in more refined and sophisticated forms. It is just that in Delhi, it is all too brazen. Hence in this heartland, we have elderly police officers molesting 14 year old girls- and to top it all, goes on to persecute the family, drive the girl to suicide etc.

In Australia, my economics tutor was a well known head of a government- funded think tank. His classes were peppered with wry sarcasm and double entendres. Every other example he gave was from the distant past when he was a gas station attendant. You won’t hear a Delhi Babu talking of his humble origins. Most appear as if they are born to royalty, with a serious look plastered on their face. Every government office in Australia that I went to, was well-lit, clean and those at the counters were doing their best to explain things clearly- a bit too clearly when they see someone with a dark skin. Walk in to any government office in Delhi and try to find your bearings. Instructions are not clear, you don’t know whom to approach and most probably it will take a few visits just to achieve some familiarity with the system. There are just too many people hanging about; mostly service seeking citizens at a loss as to what to do, with touts, agents and swindlers trying to facilitate their interaction with government and take a commission for it. We have completely ignored the training and development of the Babu at the cutting edge-The section officer or Assistant who actually deals with the public. We ill-treat them, pretend as if they don’t exist and we don’t equip them to deal with masses. They make all the difference to the image of the government. It might be a good idea if self-important Babus try to get government business done like the Aam admi once in a while- waiting at the counters…it would be eye- opening.
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After a long time I did some frenzied reading- Swedish crime fiction by Steig Larsson. It is also popularly known as the Millennium series. The first book,” The Girl with a dragon tattoo” is a classic. It makes sense to read these three books in the same order in which they were written. The author is said to have died after turning in the manuscripts. The books turned out to be a sensation in the publishing world. The protagonist of this series, a thin girl called Lisbeth Salander, makes a deep impression on the reader.