The real power

The cases were called out. The judge knew each file like the palm of his hand. In an hour all the miscellaneous matters had finished. The regular cases commenced. The petitioner had chosen to argue it himself. He had not taken long. The proceedings were moving smoothly. Suddenly, the judge raised his eyes from the paper book. He asked for the official file. The law officer, a tall and handsome gentleman with a stately presence, took the file from the government official. Marked the relevant page. Handed it over to the court master. To be presented before his lordship.

The judge had a keen eye. He glanced through the pages. Rather quickly. Then his face squirmed. The expression must have made somebody miss a heartbeat. One could even see the folds gathering on the forehead. There was an air of apprehension all around. Immediately, the quiet was gone. The file was handed over to the law officer. quot;I do not want the clerk8217;s note. I asked for the order of the competent authority. Where is the government8217;s decision?quot; was the judge8217;s firm and straight query.

The law officer looked inquisitively at the man sitting behind him. He was the dealing assistant. Middle aged. Thick glasses. He looked more than his years. The time spent at the desk, in dark and damp rooms loaded with the dirty old files, was showing on his face. But he seemed to have a rare air of confidence. A firm faith in himself. Despite the tension in the courtroom. He stood up. Looked at the judge. Straight in the eye. As if to address the court. Without the least sign of nervousness. And he did. Despite a signal from the law officer.

quot;My lord! I am the dealing assistant. In the Secretariat, I examine each case. I write the order. For the government. Others merely sign. This is a recognised procedure. It has by now matured into a practice. Become a part of our system. Your lordship may verify the fact.quot; And then, he pointed out that his note had gone up to the minister. Everyone had merely appended his initials. Not even full signatures. And these initials provided an unmistakable evidence of approval. We have an elaborate bureaucratic paraphernalia. The Clerk, Assistant, Deputy Superintendent, Superintendent, Under Secretary, Deputy Secretary, Joint Secretary, Secretary, Principal Secretary and the Financial Commissioner. The Chief Secretary at the head of the pyramid. And also the staff to assist the officers.

quot;What for? Are all of them mere rubber stamps? Or automatic signing machines? Merely appending their initials to the files placed before them?quot; asked the judge. quot;My lord, one has to work to be able to differ. You have to read the file. Examine the rules. The big bosses have a lot on their plates. they do not have the time to go through the government files?quot; This was the parting compliment.

In the process, the Babu proved he was the actual boss. The real power.