Experience with the Indian babus

Indian babudom still rules!

I realized that when I went to pay the electricity bill recently.

The thing is that my divorced sister lives alone. Every time she has to pay the electricity bill, she has to trudge about five kilometres; that being the distance between her house and the bill collection centre of the electricity company. So I, like a good brother, do it (pay the bill, I mean) when I am in town.

As the bill rarely comes to more than three hundred rupees, every two months (the bill are sent bi-monthly), I decided that I would pay two such bills together, after four months. I was in for a surprise.

After waiting in the queue for about 45 minutes when my turn came, the clerk took one look at the bill and told me to get it signed first by the BADA SAHEB upstairs and only then he would accept it.

The 'upstairs' turned out to be huffing up two floors.

"Sir, I want to get your signature here," I said politely. The BADA SAHEB looked at me irritatedly and then condescended to look at the bill.

"Tut-tut," he said with a frown. "You have skipped paying last time." His tone was accusing, his eyes were glaring.

My confident-Indian veneer broke under such an assault. I think we Indians have developed an inferiority complex and phobia of the Indian bureaucracy. Legacy of the British rule and Indira Gandhi's emergency years, I guess.

“But," my voice had turned into a bleat, "the amount is small and it is a problem for my sister to come all the way here."

"Rules are rules," the BADA SAHEB said. "You may be fined for being late."

My phobia for a moment changed into anger. I wanted to say "fine me then." But experience has taught me to never take on the babus. Their Machiavellian capacity to harass are legendary.

Luckily BADA SAHEB was busy. Or maybe he was placated by my timid stance. After glowering at me one last time, he signed the FARMAN. I could pay the bill.