Wednesday, August 1, 2012

The Red Light syndrome

I was a little disappointed, and a little sad, at reading the small pocket news item a few days ago in the Bombay edition of the DNA. It concerned the penalty of Rs. 3.75 lakhs slapped on Subodh Kumar, the previous Municipal Commissioner of the BMC by his successor and the present MC – for using a red light car 3 months after he retired. Mr. Kumar IAS was apparently an officer of high integrity, a quality that is in shorter supply than clean air in Bombay. Builders hated him, and tried their best to ease him out of that post. They could not because he had the full support of the CM himself. That itself is a sure indication that the man was incorruptible. And then he threw it all away by doing something absolutely silly! He got someone to give him a car with a beacon, 3 months into his retirement.

This is what bothers me. As a probationer at the Mussoorie Academy I looked upon with amazement and awe at the sight of the DC of Dehra Dun travelling in an entourage of 8 white Ambassadors, red lights flashing even at two in the afternoon. We who were strolling on the Mall were ushered to one side to see the Great Momo zip past us. The colonial masters left in 1947, only to be replaced by desi masters of a poorer quality. Subodh Kumar unfortunately, though of impeccable integrity as widely reported, did not forget similar incidents that he must have experienced in his long career in the IAS.

But why blame the babus alone for this? Some 20 years ago I was in HQ when we had appointed someone who is now a well-respected Senior Advocate in his early seventies to argue our case at the High Court. His condition: he must be driven to the High Court and back in the official car with the beacon flashing. At the behest of the Chief Commissioner I invited this advocate to have tea with the CC. When the CC called me to his room it was in time to see this advocate finish his tea and tell the CC fawningly with an embarrassingly false smile what a privilege it was to argue for the Government, and yes he would bill us the taxi fare!

A few years later I had a similar experience when I invited an HRD expert with a leading confectionary company to address our officers at the Training Division at Mahalaxmi. “Of course, you will send me the office car, wont you?” I sent him the diesel Matador van that should have been junked decades earlier. That was the last this expert and I saw of each other.

When I was posted at Ahmedabad a college friend who was settled there since long had a strange request to make. Could I join him and his family for ghar ka khana on a week day, he said with emphasis and finality? Sure, I said, would be delighted. “But just a small request please, if it’s not too much of a bother. Could you come in your office car, the one with the red light? And could you please pick me up from my office so that we could go together?” As we neared his house in a society at Satellite there was one more request. “Could you please ask the driver to switch on the siren?” Disappointment was writ large on my friend’s face when I told him that my car did not have a siren. The following day he called and in a state of excitement thanked me profusely. His stock had shot up by leaps and bounds in his housing society that evening!

So, I guess we all like our Red Light Areas.

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