Lying in State

The red light was on. That meant that the Director General of Health Services was either presiding over a meeting or doing something very i...

The red light was on. That meant that the Director General of Health Services was either presiding over a meeting or doing something very important. In either case, he wouldn8217;t want to be disturbed. I had gone to him with a request that he get his chief medical officer to issue me a letter of authority. I was slated to be admitted to the All India Institute of Medical Sciences and on the strength of that letter, I could claim reimbursement of all charges for my medical treatment from the government.I had known the Director General for some time. Only a few weeks earlier, he and I had been together on the selection board of the National Institute of Health and Family Welfare. Between us, we had helped appoint a professor and an associate professor for their communications faculty. The DG8217;s PA was most hospitable. quot;As soon as the DG is free,8221; said he, 8220;I will send you in. Why don8217;t you take a seat?quot;

God alone knows how long the meeting had been in progress, but hardly had I sunk into the worn-out sofa in the antechamber when a phone call came from a retired deputy director general. He wanted to talk to the DG. 8220;Hold the line, Sir,8217; said the PA, quot;I will check whether the DG is in.8217; He blocked the incoming line, talked to the DG, told him who it was that wanted to speak to him, and then said to the retired DDG, 8220;Sorry, Sir, the DG is not in.quot;

Why couldn8217;t he tell him that the DG didn8217;t want to talk to him? Or that he was occupied, and take down his number? Why be guilty of telling a lie? Boss8217;s orders? Yes, of course. But why should the boss tell a lie? Why should he turn his PA into an arrant liar? Why should compulsive lying not be considered highly repugnant and offensive to all norms of decency in the corridors of power? I walked straight out of the PA8217;s room.

8220;Never go to an office from which you have retired,8221; I recalled the advice of a former Chief Commissioner of Delhi, given to a friend of mine. Some twenty years after relinquishing his last post, so the story went, the ex-CC had gone to the Municipal Corporation offices to get something done. He was shunted from window to window. 8220;Not my job, go to counter number so-and-so,8221; he was told this again and again. Then at one counter, an ancient mariner asked him, 8220;Aren8217;t you the man who once used to be the Chief Commissioner of Delhi?8221; Having been identified, his case got a sympathetic hearing. And that meant that he was asked to come back two days later, when everything would be ready for him.

I had to go to room 409 for my letter. As I climbed up the staircase, two old peons sitting on the steps recognised and greeted me. 8220;Sahib has grown old,8221; said one to the other. 8220;In his time,8221; said the other, 8220;big, big officers used to shiver before sahib.8221; I folded my hands. It was gracious of them to conduct me to room 409. They insisted on it.

The CMO was extremely courteous. He knew that once upon a time I had served the Health Ministry as its media chief. But what really elevated me in his estimation was the fact that his daughter, who was doing a mass communications course, followed my writing in the newspapers and would be extremely happy to meet me. 8220;When can I get my letter?8221; I asked him. 8220;I will move fast, Sir,8221; he assured me. 8220;I will open a new file, but I will have to take my director8217;s approval. If you come on Monday, you will find the letter ready on my table.8221;

Monday was four days away. I couldn8217;t wait that long. Neither did I want to come again. But as I walked out of the CMO8217;s room, I found my good old peon Chander waiting for me. And a few minutes later, my old PA H.S. Puri also turned up. Between them, managed to get me the letter the same day. How? They asked me not to waste my time on that issue.