Saved by its isms

A recent encounter with the bureaucracy in an Uttar Pradesh government office where I had gone with a helpful police officer as escort convinced me that neither caste, nor virulent Hindu nationalism nor corruption can ever subvert fully the functioning of Indian institutions.

The clerk handling my file promised to charge me a nominal ‘fee’ because I had come with a friendly cop. This was a favor, with a price.

As I waited patiently in a hall cluttered with creaking desks, dusty files and lethargic babus, conversations began over Gujarat. My Muslim name flashing boldly on my file was no deterrent as they spoke about Muslims in the most derogatory ways. Each one had a story of Muslim betrayal. And the purpose of each narrative was to justify the carnage in Gujarat. I sat in silence and despair. There was no hope for the country, I was convinced.

My despair was short-lived. Soon the tea party of the clerks was disturbed by the entry of two CBI sleuths. They produced their ID cards and demanded files of a list of important people whose corruption cases they were investigating. Suddenly the corrupt and the communal clerical staff were at their efficient best.

Unmindful of the Muslim name on the CBI sleuth’s card they not only became perfect sycophants but they were willing to help the CBI in every possible way to ‘cleanse’ the system. Clearly, corruption and communalism were no simple matters.

After waiting for half a day I was informed that my file would have to wait another day because the ‘dealing clerk’ had raised an objection. My escort was embarrassed for making me wait for so long for a job he had promised would take an hour. He explained the delay as being related to the difference in the castes of the two clerks handling my case. But if we had paid the set ‘fee’ , he said, the issue of caste would have been overlooked.

I was advised by my friendly escort to finally meet the secretary of the department and get my case expedited. I popped my head into his plush paperless office. Given the fact that this was the office of an upper caste, senior bureaucrat of Uttar Pradesh I spoke in my polite Lucknawi Hindustani language. It did not work.

I changed gear, switched to the English language and announced my Cambridge educational background. The gamble worked. The high caste UP bureaucrat with a tilak prominently displayed on his forehead was a changed man. My file was signed and my work completed in no time.

I came back to Delhi, frustrated but confident that India will survive. The intermeshing of corruption, communalism and colonialism gives the Indian republic a unique resilience.

The writer is a Smuts Visiting Fellow, University of Cambridge, UK