Rambahaddur

"Shaab Chai!". The day at office begins with this welcome salutation. Rambahaddur, our tea-boy, thus serves the beverage, calling for my attention. Mind you, he makes it well. Albiet, after year long experience of ICH brand tea - one, that has a world unique aroma of Sambhar and the flavor of Rassam blended in it - every tea satifies my taste buds.

Quite quiet, Rambahaddur is a humble chap. Speaks only when he serves the beverage or when you prod him explictily otherwise. According to my boss, he classifies into the category of "The Silent Worker" (Why do all Management Cadre people need to coin a term for every day life?). Diligent in his work, he knows what to do and when to do it.

Rambahaddur works as a utility personnel in my organization. In day time, he is with us in the office, serving us beverages, soups, breakfasts and food. In the evening, he cooks food at the Recreation facility in the township. While we work for eight hours a day, in AC chambers, this chap woks for more than half of the day, mostly, in front of the stove. At the end of the day, when we all, the executive staff of the company, feel exhausted after long working hours of sitting job, this man greets us with a pervasive grin. Honestly, I derive an inspiration from this being. After enduring such a hardship if he can afford to smile, why on earth can't I? Always troubled with mundane issues like Taxes, Promotions, Career Goals, and what not, it seems we have lost the purpose of life. Rambahaddur, on the contrary, simply remembers it. He just smiles and that wipes off all the weariness of the daunting tasks he is engaged with.

Once I asked him, where he belongs to. "Shaab, Nepal Se.", he replied with his usual grin. Then it suddenly struck me that he calls me 'Shaab' over the desi 'Saab'. I mumbelled a Tut, acknowledging my ignorance. Then came the de reguire of the formal questionare, "Where in Nepal?", "I know Pashupatinath shrine. I went there, as tourist. Did you?", et cetra. He answered them all, rather shyly, with his grin gradually muating to a simper. Following that, I asked him how often he visits home? The reply was rather astounding.

This chap, who is hardly 22 or so, said that he has not been to his abode since last three and half years. Still, he could manage to flaunt a radiant, joyous face. I was bowled, undoubtably. I mused, 'Look at yourself, you moron! You start feeling anxiety and what not, in just a couple of weeks if you are seperated from the family. Do you stand to his heart?' The answer was an emphatic, No.

May be I am more qualified than Rambahaddur, but he is stronger, more determined and happier. I guess, he believes in personifying the name. Kudos to him. :)

The Office

Office. I consulted the dictionary, to look up the meaning. I boasted: A place of business where professional or clerical duties are performed. Such a humble definition. I like these Oxford people. they take everything in the straight sense and put it that way. However, in the real world scenario, the definitions broaden a bit. And over a period of time, they evolve. Just as Deprecate (To disapprove of strongly) evolved from the Latin deprecari (to avert by prayer). Nevermind that.

I joined office in August last year. The real office work began in April, per se. Thanks to the training programme we were engrossed industriously in the Year Long Executive Training with arduous perseverance in our efforts. The boss, a Sardarji incidentally, mused over my appointment under him. When I produced my appointment letter, he welcomed me lackadaisically. I, of course, waived off the thing without hesitation, assuming his last night hangover.

I was assigned a back breaker task. It took me a whole week to culminate the task successfully. Everyday, I used to bend my back, right from the start of the day to the end, to meet the deadline. Honestly, it was a treasurable experience. I had made a PowerPoint Presentation on VPNs.

Next, I was summoned. Boss patted. I elated. Agog of my achievement, I partied.

Meanwhile, I spied on the activities of the upper echelons of my department. The person sitting to the left in my neighbourhood was a Smarty. Dressed up well - officer like - and sported a shiny leather briefcase. His profile was equally dashing. He was doing research. The topic was, Solar Energy. With his proven track record on the test tracks of the company, he was entrusted with an ancillary research too. This one was on Ash Utilization. I was impressed. You see, doing research is itself a abstruse task. Doing two - in parallel - is herculean. Moreover, look at the diversity exuded by the man. One area touches the sky the other, lies beneath the ground. The former is another name for clean, perpetual and futuristic energy resource. The laggard latter symbolises murky, unsolicited, primitive and archaic thing, every Power Utility is struggling hard to get rid of. Hats off.

To the right of my seat, there was another fine fellow. I came to grasp - and following that, gasp - albiet later, that he too was a researcher. He was researching on a issue, very common to the Power Engineers. Unfortunately, he found me scratching my head when he announced it. It was Carbon Sequestration. For next half an hour or so, he narrated me about the subject assuming me as a cognoscenti. Withstanding my training, I fooled my conscious and mutated my expressions, to defy the feelings of incomprehension lying just skin deep. Or either, he fooled me that he has understood my ineptitude. This way or that, we parted off with a hearty smiles on either faces.

On fine day, boss demanded me. I promptly appeared. He asked for a briefing. First I thought he was addressing to his invisible but ingenious secretary. Later, I discovered, it was intended to me. I would come to know later that the moron secretary had eloped, without giving notice. With a sudden feeling of cold, I stared at boss. He sported the perennial smile beneath his bushy moustache. I sweated. Then managed to smile back and began. I began with the two phenomenal researchers, I had rendezvous with. Then I told him about the department. While I was about to move to the yet another imaginative script, boss raised his hand with his huge Punjabi palm wide open and facing me. Even though we were three feets apart, I felt as if he banged it on my nose. Finally he spoke. "See me next week", he said. As I turned - with a sigh of relief (and a unsuppressable feeling of being dehydrated of energy)- he added, "be better informed of your own job, by then". I nodded, instinctively.

While I walked through the corridor, I struggled with my memory, frenetically scratching my head to recall when he assigned me a job.

A Simpleton's Query

I am a bit dumb. Please explain me the answer for my query.

It's almost 60 years to us, since we got independence. Around 56 years since we are officially a sovereign country with an Assortmented Constitution. Quotas for Socially backward classes were introduced in the country using this Constitution, for a period of 10 years. Facts. Authentic ones.

One more. A generation is assumed be of 25 years. Time changes environment, perceptions and attitudes. A new generation is evolved.

Afer giving academic and economic benefits, for the namesake of social benefits, for over half a century (40 complete years of extension), we are still proposing increment in reservations.

Two generations have evolved. Third is evolving. Each one was giving ascribed to these benefits.

I want to ask, Why after giving job to a Reserved Candidate, who earns commensurate to that of an Normal one, his descendants are being given the benifits?

You once raised them to a level, equable to the Normals. Why then the forthcoming generation of that Reserved one, now be given the benefit? Is it not unfair? The Normal one earns same as the Reserved? His children survive their lives, out of the salary exactly equal to that of the Reserved one.

Then why the continuum?