I would have gone and mercilessly chopped off the hair of all the young boys who go around with long hair like hippies.
I would have gone and adjusted the pallus of all those ladies who tease everyone by deliberately dropping them a few inches.
I would have roamed the streets tearing off all those titillating and disgusting cinema posters meant to arouse young men.
I would have destroyed all those loudspeakers blaring loud music during various festivals, disturbing the peace and quiet.
There’s no end to such wishes!
But it was better, perhaps, to improve my tolerance and accept things like Vaidya’s precariously dangling spectacles.
There was a solution to my frustration, however. My colleagues at work had found it.
Unbeknownst to me, Vaidya had become a source of entertainment for them all.
They had been scheming for the past few days, and by the time I rejoined work their plans were fully formed.
It was now each person’s job to find a way to tease Vaidya without letting him find the culprit. New ways of troubling him were being invented each day, and the person who came up with a unique method would be treated to a free cup of special masala chai.
They waited to see his reaction on finding a pornographic magazine in his table drawer. His chappals would vanish while he sat with his legs folded on the chair. Some colleagues would ask him about his honeymoon exploits, and he would tell them in all sincerity, not realizing that he was being made fun of.
One day, someone handed over a bunch of tickets to him, asking him to wait at Regal Cinema for the afternoon show. The idea was to make him spend an afternoon in the hot sun, waiting for the others to arrive. He didn’t realize the tickets were for a film the group had already seen the previous Sunday. Obviously, no one was going to come. They had stationed the office peon there, to report on his discomfort as he stood waiting in the sun. And a detailed report was given by the peon on Monday morning, to the entire staff’s merriment. Each person in the office had an excuse ready for not being able to keep the appointment.
There was a plan for an office picnic. Of course, the picnic couldn’t be any fun without Vaidya. More time was spent in finding different ways to trouble him.
I couldn’t take it any more and decided to do something – I tried telling him that he shouldn’t go. But the idiot didn’t get my hints and went anyway, much to the delight of everyone else at the picnic.
I was tired of the pranks and, at the same time, was irritated by Vaidya’s stupidity. But my irritation turned to sympathy when I confronted him, after office hours, one Saturday evening.
‘How are things, Vaidya?’
‘Super.’
‘Really?’
‘Of course! I have everything I wish for: a good job, a wife, three children.’
‘Are you really happy?’
‘I mean it. Do you think I’m not happy?’
‘Maybe you manage not to show it?’
He was silent for a while. He sat down and tucked his vest back under his shirt. So he was aware of it!
Adjusting the sparse hair on his balding head, he said,
‘I don’t allow my emotions to show.’
I looked at him. He continued in his monotone,
‘You were there in the same compartment when we travelled from Pune to Mumbai. But did I ever mention that?’
I nodded. ‘No. But why?’
‘That is my nature.’
I was silent, unsure of what to say. He asked,
‘Can I help you with anything?’
‘I wanted to say something.’
‘Please, don’t hesitate.’
‘You should get yourself transferred out of this place.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘The atmosphere here is not good.’
‘You work at a government office and expect a good atmosphere? I’m surprised.’
I said, a little hesitant,
‘It’s not the atmosphere alone. I mean…’
‘You’re referring to the people, isn’t it?’
I nodded in agreement. He said,
‘People are the same, wherever one goes.’
‘Was it the same in the earlier branch?’
‘Much worse.’
‘Did you request for a transfer here?’
‘Do you think I would? Not at all. In fact, they tease you more if they know you’re scared. They find ways to trouble you even more.’
‘Is that why you never show you’re upset?’
‘Frankly, I do not get upset at anyone or anything.’
‘But then they think you are…’ I stopped. I did not want to spell it out. He helped me.
‘That I’m stupid, isn’t it?’
I nodded.
‘I pity them. I sympathize with them. After all, they’re all working to earn money, compromising all the time. They need some entertainment in their drab lives, after all.’
‘At somebody else’s cost?’
‘Maybe. But it is not by design. In any case, the idea is to not take it to heart.’
‘But what if it irks you?’
‘What would irk me?’
‘You were made to stand in the hot sun at Regal Cinema on a Sunday afternoon, for one…’
He laughed out loud, much to my surprise.
‘One advantage of our nation’s poverty is the ability to buy any person’s services for really cheap.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘I tipped the office peon one rupee. And he was very creative when he recounted the imaginary episode on Monday morning.’
Understanding his ploy, I shook hands with him vigorously. ‘Great!’
‘I know they all call me a dunce, but that doesn’t hurt me in any way. People at work and at home think of me like that, but life is much smoother for a dolt.’
His logic confused and impressed me at the same time. He continued,
‘You are never given important work once you’re labelled a blockhead. Neither wife nor boss will give you any difficult task.’
‘That may be true, but will that not affect your promotion?’
He looked at me with an expression of pity.
‘You don’t seem to have grasped the fact that we’re working for the government. Promotions can’t be stopped. I’m not going to retire before being promoted to office superintendent, that’s for sure! But I don’t need to work for it. It takes more time for the government to decide who is incapable than to decide who is really capable. By
