Employment: The First Innings - II

 

            

            Employment: The First Innings - II

After getting frustrated, I wrote a letter to my father informing him that I would stop making any further efforts and would now work like other Managers of the Emporium. Having written so, I indulged in corrupt practices like other Managers and took my share from overcharging customers more than the labelled prices. I also converted dollars received in the branch into Indian currency and pocketed the premium of around four rupees per dollar. In one case, I was confronted by a member of the Indian Foreign Service posted in an embassy in a foreign country. He visited my shop and chose a carpet for purchase. I quoted Rs 3600/- against the actual cost of Rs 1800/-. He asked me to send it to his residence. In the meantime, he visited our main showroom at Prithviraj Rd, New Delhi, where a similar carpet was quoted at Rs 4500/-, which convinced him of a good bargain. However, when the packet was delivered to him, he insisted on a receipt and rang me up. I told him that, in case he wants a receipt, he will have to pay an additional 10% as tax on the product, which I had tried to save for him. That was our usual alibi in such situations. He countered in a loud voice, “Do you know to whom you are talking? He revealed his identity and said, “There is no tax levied on handmade carpets.” I said, “Sorry, Sir, I shall have to check up with my main branch and report back to you. I rang him up after half an hour and told him that he was right, and the receipt is on the way. Thank God the matter ended there. Thus, one carpet was spared and sold without a receipt to another customer. The staff in other branches of KGAE were surprised to hear about my change of heart. 

Many people visited our showroom, notable among those were Sonia Gandhi and Rehana Sultan. Sonia Gandhi looked like a foreigner with a cool, calm, dignified and composed demeanour. She was wearing a soft and pleasing dress. She came in quietly, walked across the showroom and checked different shelves on which goods were displayed. She picked a dozen papier mache coasters, placed them on my table and said to me before she left, “I shall have these.” In the meantime, an old lady, whom I knew was the governess of Indira Gandhi, called me out and said, “She is Bahuji. Whatever she picks, please send it to the PM’s house.” I was taken by surprise and tried to recall if I had passed any mischievous smile or done anything rude.  After satisfying myself, I rang up the Manager of our main branch, who further guided me on how to proceed in the matter. The bill was cleared by the PM’s house within a fortnight. Similarly, I remember Rehana Sultana, the lead actress in the film ‘Dastak’, entered the showroom, followed by a snobbish person. I was alone in the showroom, and he prompted me to get up quickly and attend to her. I enquired who she was. Sharp came the reply, “She is Rehana Sultana, a famous actress.” I asked, “And you?” He said, "I am Johnny.” The meaning of the term ‘Johnny’ was revealed to me much later when I read an Urdu book by Krishen Chander titled ‘Filmi Qayda’. Rehana smiled and asked me in Hindi, “Don’t you watch Hindi movies?” I had not watched many films, but I replied, “No, I don’t like them.” “What do you like?”  She asked. I had no answer, but blurted out, hoping that she would not ask any questions about English movies, “I watch only English movies.” I would have drawn a blank had she done so. Nevertheless, she enquired, “But why?” I replied, “Hindi movies are stereotyped.” She replied with all humility, “Please watch the movie, Dastak, it is totally different. You will surely like it.” There the matter ended. 

Another case was much more dramatic. A jet black customer named Abu Bakr Kabeke from Nigeria, entered the showroom dressed in a white Agbada. I was at that time attending to an American customer who was so impressed that she invited me for dinner in the Peacock restaurant opposite our showroom. As the Nigerian entered, he looked at a tiger skin on display in the showroom. He asked me to show it to him by spreading it on the floor. I told him that it cannot be sold as it is forbidden under wildlife conservation. He said in incoherent English, “I supervise Nigeria embassies all over the world. Diplomatic Immunity. Nobody dares touch my luggage.” Still, in order to avoid selling it, I quoted the price at Rs 11000/- instead of Rs 7000/-. He invited the American woman who had praised his Agbada, and they got some photographs taken jointly sitting on the tiger skin. While we finalised the deal, she also selected some items worth more than Rs 3000/-, which he paid for. Besides, he insisted on wrapping it in a costly bedsheet fully embroidered with fine needlework, as well as putting the item in a suitcase which, in fact, had the office records of the consignment dealer in it and was not for sale. I was reluctant to part with it, but he was adamant, and I had to yield.  The total amount worked out to around $2000/-, and I got them exchanged the next day, earning Rs 8000/- as a premium. I was, however, afraid of getting caught for selling the banned skin, so I followed Abu Bakr to the airport till his baggage was cleared and the aeroplane took off. The tiger skin was on consignment in the showroom and its salesman was on leave. He came after a few days and was told of the deal. He was furious as he did not expect that I might have sold it at a premium, but he kept quiet when I paid him the actual sale price and his own share of Rs 3000/- in addition. I also paid some amounts to the visiting accountant and the peon in the showroom. It was a windfall for me. Later on, Kebeke visited the showroom again after a few months. I had been transferred from the branch by then. Fortunately, I visited the branch to say goodbye to the staff who informed me that Kebeke is looking for you. I visited his room, where he gifted me a suit which he had purchased from Paris. 

Those days, the Asia '72 exhibition was going on, and Manager, KGAE, Connaught Place Branch, Nissar Hussain and I visited the exhibition as our organisation had a pavilion there. By a stroke of luck, I made friends with one of the Girl Guides there, Jyothibala Kulkarni, a Maratha Brahmin from Coimbatore, posted in our pavilion and we came very close to each other. I was very much interested in marrying her, but when she went back to Coimbatore, she wrote to me that her conservative parents wanted her to marry a Maratha Brahmin only. Anyway, the ill-got money described earlier was spent during those days on lunches, discotheques and showing her around the city. Nothing was saved except a few dresses I had purchased for myself. 

My curiosity as a writer also made me visit the red-light area of Delhi along with a few friends of mine. After a few setbacks, I befriended the Madam of a brothel and enjoyed her company but had no intention to indulge in sex. My two friends chose their partners and went into the available cubicles. I stayed by the side of the Madam and started smoking a cigarette. She asked for a matchstick, but I offered the cigarette as well, saying in Hindi, “Hamein pilana bhi aata hai aur jalana bhi.” She smiled and retorted, “Shair maloom hote ho. Andar nahi jana kya?” I said, “Nahi, aap ke sath batein karna acha lag raha hai.” In the meantime, she called for tea for herself and started drinking it. I quipped, “Ajeeb mehman nawazi hai, Chai apne liye mangwai, aur hum dekhte reh gaye.” She replied, “Aap hamari chai piyein ge kya?” I said, “ Haan, kyun nahi.” She immediately called the boy back and asked him to bring another special cup of tea for me. Believe me, the taste of that cup of tea still haunts me. I visited her a few more times along with my friends and studied the environs as well as the behaviour of the sex-workers there. I have penned down two short stories on the subject in Urdu, which are included in my first collection of short stories.

The MD of our organisation visited Delhi after about a month and found my attire changed completely. Some of my colleagues who had earlier come from Srinagar had become jealous of me and carried tales to him. He had become wary of my conduct and issued my transfer orders to Srinagar as Statistical & Review Officer, where there was no possibility of earning any extra money. I reached Srinagar on 26th January 1973. The posting was a great shock and an eye-opener for me. It made me introspect and think seriously about my future. It dawned on me that all these indulgences had no intrinsic value and were ephemeral. They would surely lead me to an abyss of immorality. Hence, I decided not to follow such ways further and repeat them again in future. I pledged to live an honest life thereafter and concentrate on my career instead. (to be continued)

Employment: The First Innings - I

 

            Employment: The First Innings - I 

Let me turn the clock back a few decades. After completing my Master's in Botany from Kashmir University, I received a call to join the Kashmir Government Arts Emporium (KGAE), a unit of J&K Handicrafts (S&E) Corporation, as Assistant Manager. I had successfully appeared for the written and oral examinations earlier and was placed third in the merit list. However, I had prepared myself for the teaching profession and was attending the B.Ed. classes in Gandhi Memorial College, Srinagar. My father, too, was working in KGAE, and as far as I remembered, had faced a tough time there for almost a decade. Yet he wanted me to join the organisation because the then Managing Director, Mufti Mohd Maqbool, was kind to him. One day, his MD told him that he had come from Delhi after a long time, and his children were suffering on the educational front since the standard of education in Kashmir was nowhere in comparison to Delhi. He asked my father to find a good teacher for them. My father replied, “Sir, my son is a good teacher, but I don’t know whether he will agree.” Mufti told him, “Bring him one day and I shall personally request him.” It so happened that my father took me to his home one Sunday, where his elder daughter, a pre-medical student, requested me to draw some difficult diagrams in her practical notebook. It hardly took me a few minutes to complete the job. She was speechless and quietly whispered to her father to request me to draw all the diagrams in the notebook afresh. I carried the book to my home and did the needful. The next day, when I delivered the notebook, his other four children were waiting for me to teach them. I could not say no to them, as teaching was my passion. I taught them for more than a year without any remuneration. In the meantime, Mufti Maqbool announced many vacancies in KGAE and directed my father to send my application. I refused, but his MD told him to apply himself on my behalf. After this, I received a call for a written examination. My father insisted that I should appear, and I may not need to join if I don’t feel like it. The same words were repeated when the call for an interview was received. In the final merit list, I was placed third, and one candidate ahead of me did not join. 

My father prevailed upon me through his brother-in-law, Pt Sham Lal Saraf, who had served as a Minister in the J&K cabinet for 15 years and was later nominated as MP, Lok Sabha for another 5 years. He had seen life and was experienced enough to be my guide and mentor. He said, “Deepak ji, you know your father is retired and has been given an extension in service. You have three motherless, unmarried sisters. Suppose he doesn’t get a further extension. What do you do? There are no government teaching jobs in the market. It is better to avail oneself of the opportunity available now.”

I explained to him the discriminatory attitude of the employer, as I was offered an Assistant Manager’s job despite having a third position in the merit list, while the candidates far below me were made Managers. Having served as Minister in the state, he was aware of the situation, yet he convinced me not to refuse the offer. He said, “I started my career with just a Rs 10/- per month job after my graduation, but continued to pursue my goals. Nothing stops you from achieving bigger things in life.” 

“Uncle, my educational background doesn’t match the managerial job, because I  am trained to be a teacher. By the time I aspire to be promoted to a Manager’s post, there will be dozens of MBAs standing in line to fill that job in this fast-changing world.”

“I agree, but given the circumstances, you have no choice right now. You can change as and when you get an alternative job.”

I joined my first assignment as Assistant Manager, heading the retail showroom of the Emporium in Chandigarh in April 1971. My basic pay was Rs 140/- pm, and my take-home pay was about Rs 250/-. I rented one room for which I had to pay Rs 60/-. Other daily expenses left no room to save or send some money to my home. As they say in Hindustani, Nanga nahaye ga kya aur nichode ga kya. However, the place had a very soothing effect on my health. The air and water of the developing city, Chandigarh, were clean, and helped me to regain my health. Those days, I was thin and emaciated,  suffering from ulcerative colitis for the previous three years, and blood used to run with my stools. A stay in Chandigarh did the trick. I ate only what was permitted, prepared at home myself and used to have a long walk in the evening up to the lake. I was cured slowly. In addition, I joined art and painting classes next to my residence to pursue my hobby of painting. 

I continued my BEd studies because only examinations were left. Flew for my practical and theory examination from Chandigarh and was successful in due course. 

The organisation did not suit me, and the staff indulged in corrupt practices, which I tried to stop. This resulted in their non-cooperation, but the branch showed progress in sales. Suddenly, the management thought of opening branches in foreign countries, and therefore, shifted me to the Ashoka Hotel, Delhi Branch, so that I could join Spanish classes in Bhartiya Vidya Bhawan, KG Marg, Delhi, which I did. Three other officers were also directed to learn the French and German languages. Since they did not report satisfactory progress, the scheme was abandoned halfway. I had completed one semester of 6 months and stood first in the class, which had two IFS officers also. This encouraged me, and I thought let me also compete in the Civil Services examination. I took initial guidance from them; however, some distractions delayed my resolve, though the idea kept knocking at my brain regularly. 

In the meantime, I registered myself in the Employment Exchange and got offers from private educational institutions. I had some noteworthy experiences during the interviews. When I reported for an interview at the Apeejay School, Faidabad, one of the members of the interview board remarked that he had a very bad experience with the Kashmir University, wherefrom I had obtained my degrees. He said that he had learnt that the University delays payments of evaluated answer books, and therefore, insisted upon payment before the answer books are returned to them. Neither did they send the payment, nor did he return the answer books. The University declared the result without receiving the answer books. I felt that the story put a question mark in the minds of other members about my capability. I had to make an additional effort to win them over. 

I said, “Sir, do you want to assess the university or my ability? If it is me, please ask whatever questions you feel like, and I shall try to answer them.” This restored their neutrality to some extent. Then a volley of questions was put by each member, which I answered satisfactorily. At the end, I asked them, “ Sir, may I know whether I have got the job?”

“There are another 12 candidates to be interviewed, how can we tell you?”

“Sir, I appreciate that. I shall wait till the end of the interview because I have come all the way from Srinagar on my own and can’t bear the expenses further.” After saying that, I left the room.

At the end of the interview, I entered the room again and asked the same question, “Sir, now that you have interviewed all the candidates, may you please tell me the result?”

“No, it is not possible. Though we have finalised the result, we shall have to put it before the top management for approval before it is announced.”

“Sir, that means you, too, are bound by prescribed rules and regulations, as was my university. The rules said that they cannot send the payment until the answer books are received back by them. I hope, Sir, you now understand how the system works. Anyway, if I receive a call once I am back in Srinagar, I fear I may not be able to join unless I am paid for the journey.” 

After a few days, I received a postcard asking me to join immediately. I replied through a postcard myself, informing that since my offer on the spot was not honoured, I am unable to join. This, however, I could afford to do because I already had a job in the Emporium.

I was called for an interview for a Post Graduate Teacher (PGT) post in the Delhi Administration. I had learnt that usually they get candidates with an MSc degree or a BSc & BEd degree, but not MSc and BEd together. This worked to my advantage, and I was selected. While I waited for the order, a Khalsa School organisation called me for an interview at their school in Lajpat Nagar. I reported in the office and met an elderly Sardar with a long grey beard. He sympathised with me and told me to come to his home in the evening, and he would put in a word to the Principal. I suspected his intentions and replied, “Ok, I will see.” In the interview hall, the chairman saw my testimonials and was surprised. He asked, “What is this, BSc (Hon’s), M Sc (Botany), B Ed, and then Adibe-Mahir (Urdu)? 

I replied, “Sir, I completed my education to become a teacher and got the Urdu degree as I write Urdu short stories.”

“Why do you want to be a teacher?” 

He expected me to say that I want to serve my country or children, but I did not oblige. Instead, I replied, “Sir, I am an introvert and teaching is a profession that suits me. His face looked blank as I guessed, so I continued, “Sir, there are two types of personalities, the artistic or Introverts who like creative jobs and the athletic or extroverts who like  

Outdoor and business-oriented jobs.”

“Do you mean you are an artist?”

“Sir, one doesn't need to be an artist; it is merely one’s trait. However, I do write  short stories in Urdu and have painting as my hobby”

He told me to wait outside till the other candidates are interviewed. At the end of the interviews, he personally came out and found me sitting in the office. He directed me to come to the interview hall again. We had a fruitful discussion for almost half an hour. Tea and hot samosas were called for the interview board, and I also had a nice cup of tea. Suddenly, he rang the bell; the same person, with whom I had interacted earlier, came in and was asked to prepare an order for my appointment immediately. He told me that I shall personally come to see you delivering a lecture. But that did not mature as I got a call from the Delhi Administration, which was preferable, being a government job. 

In those days, I was holding the entire stock of my branch personally since my salesman had gone on leave, assuring me that he would come within ten days, because I had told him that I was likely to get a job. But he did not return. I rang up my father and asked him to talk to the MD and get me relieved, but he maintained a stony silence because he was himself averse to the teaching profession. The only other person I could think of was my maternal uncle, who was working as a Principal in a Delhi school but was not reliable. He told me that he is going to Srinagar and will convince my father, but on his return, he said, “Deepak, your father has duplicity of character. He did not want to commit. It seems he has a lot of faith in his MD, who has assured him of making your future. I failed to convince him.” In the meantime, his wife had approached BN Raina, Deputy Director in the Andrews Gunj region to which I had been allotted and got me further posted to the School in Sector 7, R K Puram, which was within a stone’s throw of my residence. All my efforts failed, and I had no option but to continue in the Kashmir Government Arts Emporium. (to be continued) 

Dreams Shattered

 

                        Dreams Shattered

After discharge from the Army in February 1988, I had requested a transfer to Srinagar to settle my family. I had thought I could spend five to six years there without any interruption. During this period, my children would complete their school education and, possibly thereafter, go to professional colleges outside the state. Getting admission for them in the Burn Hall School, the number one school of the valley, was a boon, which was not beyond my imagination.

I had purchased a piece of land at Bagh-e-Mehtab in Chadora district on the outskirts of Srinagar. I entrusted the job of walling the land to one of my friends, who, however, did not take proper care to check that the cementing of the wall was properly done, and water was sufficiently sprinkled on the wall from time to time for a few days. This was not done.

We had a neighbour, A R Mir, an Accounts Officer in the State Finance Department, who lived nearby across the main road. He suggested building a house and told me that he had a very sincere mason known to him who could be entrusted with the job. I made the outline drawing of the house myself, but as a precaution, I showed it to the departmental architect who had fortunately come to Srinagar. He approved the drawing but suggested a change in bathroom design, which was incorporated. The mason was entrusted with the job while the carpenter was available next door. The mason was a master of many related jobs, and he, along with his team, did the work very well. Materials like stones, sand and cement were arranged. A part of the front wall was built with chiselled green stones costing Rs 100/- per stone. This proved quite expensive, but there was no way to escape subsequently. The work went on till the winter fall when it was stopped at the slab level of the first storey. During the winter, we performed the house entry puja and gave a feast to many relatives who were invited. The next job of covering the first storey with a roof of CGI sheets and making some additional rooms underneath the said roof was postponed to next spring.

In the ensuing winter itself, an uprising in Kashmir prevented any further additions or alterations to the house. In fact, I was targeted by the militants because I was an Officer in the Postal department, and therefore, I could not go and see the half-constructed house. The whole work was stalled for several years. 

The house remained unprotected and unguarded for almost a decade since I was posted far away from Srinagar. Meanwhile, I had made enquiries through my departmental officials to find a buyer for the same. The militants had forbidden any Muslim to purchase the houses of Kashmiri Pandits. This plunged the prices of Kashmiri Pandit property.  However, the locals found methods to purchase such property on a power of attorney. I got the first quote of two lakhs rupees which gradually increased to four lakhs. During my next tenure as PMG, I entered into a deal with a buyer introduced to me by my close friend for six lakh rupees in 1998, though I had spent the same amount on the construction of the house about ten years back. It was a distress sale. Nevertheless, I thought it better to go in for a stop-loss sale rather than wait indefinitely. I had also inherited an ancestral house, which I handed over to my youngest sister, who preferred to stay put in Srinagar permanently.

The other area where destiny played its part was the education of the children. Schools and colleges remained closed, and it was dangerous to send children to school. The Hindu staff of the school and the Hindu children too migrated out of the valley. I also asked my wife to go to Shimla, but she returned. By the time a branch of Burn Hall was opened as St Peter's Higher Secondary School, Jammu and my children joined the same and later shifted to Kendriya Vidyalaya. This arrangement did not last too long as I was deputed to join a year-long in-service course in the National Defence College, New Delhi. My family joined me as soon as I got government accommodation in Kaka Nagar, Delhi.

Though my tenure in J&K came to an end with the start of 1992, even after that, I was posted twice to the circle, firstly, as PMG, and lastly, as CPMG. (to be continued)

Streamlining Procedures

 

                    Streamlining Procedures

With the valley in deep turmoil, we did our best not only to adjust the current staff outside the valley so that nobody is left without means of livelihood, but also to transfer the pensions of affected pensioners to their current locations. This would mean a lengthy procedure, which could have taken a month or so, and the pensioners would be distraught under such conditions. So, I issued blanket orders that all pensions of Kashmiri Pandits should be transferred to Jammu and pursued with the three head offices in Kashmir. Kashmiri Pandits, as is well known, raise hue and cry over even minor things. A few pensioners, who had not migrated, were represented through their unions regarding non-payment of their pensions. I asked all three HOs to collect the particulars of pensioners who had stayed back, which were not more than ten in number, and got their pensions immediately transferred back to the respective offices. The accounts received in Jammu were transferred to Udhampur and Kathua Head Offices, as required. 

The next step was to help the public at large immediately access the amounts they had saved in the post offices in the valley in the shape of savings, recurring and fixed deposits, as well as savings certificates. The problem faced was how to get such accounts transferred expeditiously, despite the fact that there was an acute shortage of staff in the valley. I was shocked when it came to my knowledge that the migrant officials deputed in batches to the valley were collecting passbooks from migrants for getting them quickly transferred, charging Rs 100/- per passbook as their commission. This was done in collusion with local postmasters. It was apparent that they had forgotten their own suffering. I immediately created a ‘Migrant Cell’ in my office, headed by A K Bindroo, an honest and trustworthy official and issued orders that no account will hereafter be received or transferred directly to any post office. From then on, all accounts were routed through the ‘Migrant Cell’. This helped in monitoring dispatch and receipt back, as well as stopping corruption.  I was also told that the transfer of accounts was wilfully delayed by some offices in the valley. I talked to the Head Postmasters concerned and got a positive response from Anantnag and Baramulla HPOs. Srinagar HO did not give a positive response. Unfortunately, most of the accounts pertained to Habbakadal SO in Srinagar, and the SPM posted there, Mr Shodda, had nursed a grudge against Kashmiri Pandits because some of his KP bosses had troubled him in the past. The SO was working on one of the counters in Srinagar HO. I flew to Srinagar and caught hold of him. I warned him to transfer all the pending accounts within ten days, failing which he would be transferred to Jammu and made to do the needful in the scorching heat there. This warning worked. Fortunately, I had very cordial relations with all communities during my career, and therefore, he took my advice seriously and started transferring the accounts without delay. The accounts were transferred expeditiously, mitigating the sufferings of the migrants. 

In the meantime, a bigger problem was reported to me. People were asking for the maturity amounts of the savings certificates they possessed. According to the rules, such certificates were required to be verified from the offices of issue to prevent any fraud or mischief. This created a bottleneck. Some local postmasters took risks and paid the maturity amounts on their own without any verification from the office of issue. They were reportedly charging a commission as a percentage of the maturity amount. In yet another incident, my wife had gone to a refugee settlement camp to visit a relative of hers. They were scheduled to perform the marriage of their daughter in a fortnight. Some migrant official going to Srinagar had promised them payment of the amount immediately, provided a commission of 10% of the maturity amount was paid to him, which, as per him, he had to share with others. In yet another case, it was reported to me that a lady had approached the Head Postmaster of Jammu HO and asked for the maturity amount of her savings certificates. He informed her about the procedure involved and asked her to apply with photocopies of the certificates. After the verification was received, she would get the amount, which could roughly take 1-2 months. She begged him and said that she and her small children had nothing to eat or wear. Looking at the stony silence of the postmaster, she tore her blouse in front of him and offered her body for sale. These incidents struck me like arrows. I immediately contacted the Director, Savings Bank in the Directorate, Late Raghav Lal, and asked him to allow us to encash such certificates without pre-verification. He asked me, “Who will sign the payments?” I replied, “I shall do it myself”. Suddenly, it dawned upon me that it would be a huge responsibility that I would be undertaking. Some inner voice guided me, and I told Raghav Lal that since it is an ad hoc measure to meet the urgent needs of the migrant depositors, let us limit the total withdrawal per individual to only Rs 20,000/-. That worked. The next day, orders were issued by the Directorate, which were circulated to all the dependent offices. As a result, the migrants queued up in my office to seek payment. For this job, too, I had kept some officials known for their integrity. I must have issued orders amounting to more than 4 crores during the period I was in the office. No fraud or corrupt practice was noticed except one. In that particular case, it was a postmaster who had been working in Srinagar and had retired a long time ago. He accompanied the clerk concerned. I read the name on the certificate, it had the surname Razdan, while the person standing in front of me had Koul as his surname. I asked, “I remember you were working in Naseem Bagh PO, and your surname is Koul, not Razdan." He blabbered and put forward an alibi: “Sir, yes, he is a relative of mine and is currently bedridden in Delhi. That is why I have come to represent him.” 

“Sorry, I cannot permit it; he can present it in Delhi itself.”

“Sir, this is in a joint account with his wife.”

“Then produce the joint account holder.”

“Sir, she too is in Delhi.”

I suspected some foul play. Since he had been a postmaster, I thought he might have stolen the certificate of some investor. I got furious. Now that he was a public man, I couldn’t do any harm to him, but I threw the entire file of almost 400 pages on the postal assistant concerned and shouted at him. Further, I called the staff clerk and asked him to transfer this fellow to Udhampur immediately. Whether he had done it on purpose or not, I couldn’t verify. He was otherwise a well-educated person with a PhD in Sanskrit and was not known for any misconduct in the past. Subsequently, many staff members came and pleaded on his behalf, so I revised my orders, but posted him to another branch in my office with no monetary involvement. I would often come out of my office to check on assistants posted in the migrant cell to ensure that they did not indulge in corrupt practices, that too, using my name. 

Some mischief was also done by a few staff members who were temporarily provided shelter in vacant government accommodation in Jammu, Udhampur, etc, on an ad hoc basis with the condition that they would shift as soon as possible. After some time, it was noticed that there was a likelihood of such people losing their HRA on account of occupying government accommodation, howsoever, uninhabitable it might be. I asked all the occupants to find alternative rented accommodation immediately, but a few of them resisted, and it took a lot of time for me to persuade them to vacate the said accommodation.

Yet another problem that remained unresolved was the adjustment of Extra-departmental Agents (EDAs), now redesignated as Gram Dak Sewaks. The EDAs used to assemble in front of our office every day and raise slogans. I, in turn, would inform the Directorate and the PMG of the developments, as I had no powers to negotiate with them. DDG Establishment, K Diesh, came to Jammu, and so did the PMG, N D Dayal. Surprisingly, K L Moza, erstwhile SPM of S R Gunj PO, Srinagar, on deputation as General Secretary of the National Federation of Postal Unions, Delhi at that time, also reached Jammu. All of them discussed the matter in the inspection quarters over drinks and dinner. I heard Diesh prompting Moza to persuade the leader of EDAs to call off the protest. Moza came to the venue the next day and directed the leader of EDAs to call off the strike. The leader wisely asked for some time to think and consult the protestors. He quietly came to my office to consult me, knowing fully well how I had been helping the rehabilitation of Kashmiri Pandit migrants. He had a lot of expectations from me, but my problem was that I could neither say ‘Yes’ nor say ‘No’ as a responsible officer. All that I did was remind him of the Kashmiri Pandit agitation of 1967, where the KP leaders informed the agitating public that they had reached an understanding with the Sadiq Government and their demands were settled. Papers signed by the private secretary of D P Dhar, and not the Minister himself, were flaunted from the stage. The people believed them. Once the agitation was over, no fruitful results ensued. The leader of EDAs got the cue. I told him that since he had come to my room, it would tarnish my image as an officer, so I advised him not to go back the same way he had come but to take a route through the railway station and spend a few minutes there before joining the agitators. He did as advised, and once he was back, he told Moza that he had thought over the matter and would not like to call off the agitation before orders are issued, which infuriated Moza as it belittled his authority. Diesh and Dayal came to my room and informed me that the leader of the EDA’s did not agree to call off the agitation, so now the only option was to adjust them. PMG asked me whether we could do it immediately. I replied affirmatively and told him that we have many vacancies of EDAs outside the Kashmir valley, against which we can adjust many. Once that is done, we can transfer the remaining posts from the valley and deploy them in offices where the workload has increased due to the migration of the population. This was agreed, and by the same evening orders were issued for the first set of EDAs, which satisfied them, and the protest was called off. Other EDAs were adjusted gradually, and the whole problem was solved. The local as well as the valley unions created some problems, but I convinced them and removed their doubts. 

  After some time, the problem of migrants, both departmental and extradepartmental, was resolved, and we began concentrating on other areas of postal activity to increase the department's efficiency, which had been overlooked until then. For streamlining the system, it required a Herculean effort, and I must confess that late Meena Dutta, the then APMG (Staff), contributed significantly. Moreover, the reorganisation of the PLI section was carried out meticulously by VB Abrol, the then AD (PLI). In fact, the exercise undertaken by us could be a perfect example of ‘Crisis Management’. I made an important decision when I was overseeing the circle in the absence of the PMG.  I issued orders to stop the booking of inland and foreign parcels throughout the valley. All the circles were informed about it and told not to book parcels addressed to post offices in Kashmir. No prior permission was taken from the Directorate. This was aimed at reducing vulnerability of post offices against parcel bombs and stopping drug smugglers from using postal channels to carry drugs to and from the valley. After a few orders, when I was working in the Directorate, the then DPS, Jammu, asked me on the phone as to who had authorised the stoppage. I avoided saying that the same must have been noted in the relevant file, knowing fully well that the records were not readily available regarding those emergency days.  (to be continued)...

Adjustment of Migrants: A Pioneering Effort

 

        Adjustment of Migrants: A Pioneering Effort

The Postal Department was the first to relocate part of the Circle Office to Jammu. Other Central Government Offices followed suit. The story of how it was done is told hereunder. K Diesh was replaced by N D Dayal as PMG. I was inspecting the Divisional Office, Jammu, when I received a telephone call from the then Secretary, Kailash Prakash. I requested that he speak with the PMG, who was incidentally sitting next to me. He used a few bad words and said, “ No, I want to talk to you only.” In fact, he did not like Dayal and considered him to be part of the Diesh lobby, which was working against him. He said to me, “Deepak, my son Amit Prakash is working for the Illustrated Weekly of India, and he has been asked to write a story on the situation in the Kashmir Valley. He will fly to Srinagar after three days. Please receive him. His mother has been crying ever since she heard it.”

I replied, “Sir, you don’t worry, I will hand him over to some guys known to the militants, and they will escort him wherever he wants to go.”

“Deepak, I hope you know what you are talking about.”

I realised that I should not have said what I said. But now that words had been uttered, I had to stand by them. I assured him that the guys I referred to are from the department and they have cordial terms with the people on the other side.”

“Okay, do what you think is proper. I want my son to be safe.”

I flew back to Srinagar, and Amit Prakash arrived on the specified day. Two postal officials were assigned the job of escorting him, and they carried him places in the downtown. In the evening, he returned, had some drinks and a sumptuous dinner. The next day, he was sent back by Indian Airlines to Delhi. As soon as I received the message of the aeroplane leaving Srinagar Airport, I called the Secretary and informed him, “Sir, your son has safely departed by air to Delhi, please let me know when he reaches.” 

After about two hours, Kailash Prakash rang me up and said, “Deepak, Amit’s mother and I are highly grateful to you. She is happy to see her son back. Amit was all praise for your hospitality.”

“Sir, these are small things in life. I wish him a bright future.”

“Deepak, can I be of any help to you?”

I paused for a moment. Remembered a story of Shri Bhat, who had cured Sultan Zainul Abedin Budshah, and was asked the same thing by the Sultan. Shri Bhat, in turn, requested him to resettle Kashmiri Pandits and allow those who were forcibly converted to return to the Pandit fold.” The Sultan granted his wish and issued the necessary orders. Taking a cue from that story, I requested the Secretary, “Sir, there is nothing I want for my person. But, Sir, if you can help my community, please do so. Sir, a large number of staff of the Circle offices have migrated to Jammu. We could open a part of the CO at Jammu and let them work there. Incidentally, out of nine divisions (Postal and logistical), only two are directly affected by militancy. The closure of CO has affected all the divisions. If a part of CO functions at Jammu, the work of all subordinate divisions can be streamlined. PMG can be posted in Jammu while I shall look after the residual office in Srinagar.”

He immediately grasped my viewpoint and told me, “Okay. Tomorrow morning, I shall meet the Minister, and by 10:30 AM, you will receive your orders. The next day, at exactly 10:30 AM, the P.S. to the Secretary rang me and read out the order, which was almost a one-liner saying, “Shri Deepak Kumar Budki, DPS, J&K Circle will hereafter work from Jammu as his headquarters.” I showed it to the PMG, who had returned to Srinagar. He ordered me to prepare a plan for the distribution of work between the Jammu and Srinagar wings, which was done smoothly during the night. The orders were issued, and the migrant staff in Jammu were asked to join the office immediately. I also flew to Jammu and tried to hire a building, but the quoted rent was beyond the financial powers of the PMG. Getting approval from the Directorate would mean a delay of at least 2-3 months. So I zeroed in on the RMS Office housed in a departmental building at the Jammu Railway Station, which had some spare space. I called all the staff to be deployed there and told them that due to paucity of space, they should not expect facilities as were available in Srinagar. Even the size of their tables was drastically reduced. All records of concerned branches were transferred gradually, utilising the services of the mail bus plying between Srinagar and Jammu. The most important branch of CO, which was shifted and proved very fruitful, was the PLI section. After establishing it in Jammu, the work of PLI increased multifold, and so did the efficiency. 

The arrangement worked well. The only question that remained was how to adjust the remaining migrant Officials from the operative offices. I discussed the matter with the PMG and called for the Options from such officials. Orders were issued to attach them to the POs near their present places of residence, but the salaries were to be drawn from the parent offices only. It was made clear that the migrant officials will not be considered transferred to the offices where they are attached and will work in a subordinate capacity, even if they are senior to the Postmaster in the SO attached to. These orders were made transparent in order there are no complaints from the local unions against them. The system came on rails slowly. This arrangement was emulated by the Telecom department, as also other Central Government departments. 

Another pressing problem that we faced was staffing post offices in the Kashmir Valley so that they do not suffer due to a shortage of manpower. A scheme was launched to send migrant staff back to the Offices periodically, where security cover was available, viz. GPO Srinagar, Anantnag HO, and Baramullah HO. Since many incentives had been announced by the Central Government in regard to staff working in the valley, many Postal migrants volunteered to go back to work in these post offices. Batches of such officials were sent by special buses escorted by security forces from Jammu to Srinagar, Anantnag and Baramulla. Initially, the batches were exchanged every three months, but later, it was noticed that migrant officials were reluctant to come back to Jammu or Udhampur and preferred to stay in the valley. The periodicity of sending batches of staff to the valley was accordingly increased. 

By and by, the conditions in the valley improved. Tourists started arriving, and the migrant staff started moving out of the secure premises, which had been prohibited earlier. My relations with N D Dayal remained cordial throughout. Though I was working in Jammu now, both of us remained in touch with each other regarding sensitive matters. However, the incident of Kailash Prakash did create some doubt in his mind. Fortunately, my constant reminders to the Directorate ensured two direct officers, V Pati and P S Negi, were posted, who really shouldered the work well. I, on my part, recommended some subordinated staff for the Meghdoot award, which was further sent by the PMG to the Directorate, and a few officers received it. Some were awarded at the Circle level by the PMG with Dak Sewa Awards. However, surprisingly, no PMG ever thought me worthy of such an award despite my facing the situation single-handedly for so long. Anyway, I did my duty to the best of my capability and have no regrets. ….(To be continued)