‘Best years of my life ruined, who is going to pay?’

Nothing happens at the headquarters of the Bihar Pharmaceuticals and Chemicals Development Corporation any more. The firm is under liquidation on a prayer of the Government of Bihar. But Usha Kiran, a stenographer-typist, must come each day because if she doesn’t mark her attendance, she will incur deductions in the salary that she has not been paid for the past ten years. Her dues run into several lakhs of rupees. She is deep in personal debt.

She comes to work hoping against hope. But ask her and she will tell you she doesn’t entertain any now. ‘‘The best years of my life have been ruined and I am getting nothing in return. Someone should be held responsible.’’

Usha Kiran Sharma and her 300-odd colleagues are here in this suffocating cul de sac because their bosses bungled. So badly and consistently that it has now plunged irretrievably in debt. What’s more, the Bank of India, a creditor, has attached its properties and become the first claimant of the liquidation funds, whenever that happens. The prospect of the bank being first in the queue for claims is like injury on insult for employees. It has left them raging.

‘‘Our bosses have bled this company and now they want us to die as a result,’’ Usha Kiran says. ‘‘Who asked them to be extravagant with funds, who asked them to invest our capital elsewhere and then turn to borrowing? We are the first claimants if the company is liquidated, not the Bank of India or anyone else.’’ Her questions are all valid.

Her colleague, Ashok Kumar, has an even more valid one. ‘‘The government now says it is not responsible for our salaries and benefits. But if we are headed by political appointees and government officers, if the government dictates every decision the corporation takes, including the decision to liquidate it, how are we not the responsibility of the government? It cannot have all the powers and no responsibility.’’

The story of the Bihar Pharmaceuticals and Chemicals Development Corporation is typical of the manner in which the politician-bureaucrat nexus has looted public sector undertakings dry of resources, drained them of spirit and discarded them one after another as basket cases. Employees who never had a say in the running of these undertakings have become the main victims of their sickness. Politicians and senior bureaucrats, who led the companies downhill, remain unaffected. Indeed, most of them are prospering.

In 1983-84, for instance, the directors of the Corporation decided suddenly and strangely to invest huge chunks (roughly Rs 40 lakhs) of the paid up capital in a slew of private firms. That investment was a net loss. Among the directors at that time was an IAS officer called Mukund Prasad, now Principal Secretary to the Bihar Chief Minister and arguably the most powerful bureaucrat in the state.

Among past MDs have been such senior and well-known IAS officers as G S Kang, now welfare secretary, and Sajal Chakravarty of the fodder scam fame.

The Bihar Insecticides Ltd, a subsidiary that got the corporation wrangled in a dispute with the Bank of India, is a scandal in itself. It owes financial institutions, mainly the Bank of India, in excess of Rs 299 crore.

It has declared helplessness to pay up, so its assets, including a plant in Purnea, stand attached. Its accounts have not been audited since 1985-1986. It has repeatedly pleaded lack of finances as the main reason it could not get off the ground.

But take a look at how it spent its funds in 1985-86, the last year for which accounts are available: General and Supply Advances: Rs 14,58286. Travel Allowance of Managing Drector: Rs 46,800. Legal Expenses: Rs 15,984. Stationery: Rs 10,166. It doesn’t have a head for salaries because they were not being paid even at that time. But they borrowed and squandered all the same till the creditors put the squeeze.

‘‘If politicians and IAS can decide where the money should be going, they should also be responsible for its employees,’’ says Saligram Singh, a foreman employed in a now-defunct corporation unit. ‘‘If they have together sunk this company, they should also pay the price.’’ Singh has another example of loot from the top. The Bihar Drugs and Chemicals Ltd, a Hajipur-based unit that produced drugs for Kalazar, was sold in 2000 to its lessee, T. Prasad, and Singh alleges the deal stank. ‘‘The factory was worth Rs 6.5 crore, it was sold off for Rs 77 lakh. Do you think such a deal could be above board?’’

Unpaid employees desperate to be heard have now become a crowd in typist Usha Kiran’s little room. These are distraught faces, drained from years of harassment. ‘‘Our big bosses can spend thousands of rupees on travel and entertainment, the bill for one press conference they do not even need to hold equals the monthly pay of 20 employees put together.

But when it comes to our salary, there is no money. Why?’’ asks Ashok Kumar, who is getting progressively angrier as the room fills over. ‘‘If this is entirely my loss, why am I not being allowed to sell off the remaining assets of the corporation and make good my dues? Why can’t I sell this furniture, this typewriter, this office, that piece of land we own? Why? Because the government will not let me. And the same government will say it is not responsible to me. What else do you call andher nagari?’’