Sunday, March 7, 2010

Corruption- The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

08-03/10
The biggest legacy the English rule has left behind for my country, India, is the bureaucracy. The babus (clerks) and the chaprasis (peons/office attendant) at the lower end, business class aristocracy at the upper end, the red taped file-pads and the green ink signatures, the wooden rulers and the writing pads so on and so forth. Visit any office of the state or the central government and just watch the infrastructure, or just observe what is going on in these places and you will be in for the surprise of your life. I have always got a feeling of getting into a time machine whenever I visited the nearby Tahsildar’s office. It may be the Tahsildar’s office, Collector’s office, the Regional Transport Officer’s office, the Commercial Tax office, the court office, the Post Office or the Education Officer’s office; they are all the same. The sight of cluttered files, dumped records gathering dust on shaky shelves, vintage wooden tables covered with faded green table clothes, Turkey towels covering back rests on vintage chairs, ceiling fans doing their rounds religiously on worn out ball bearings giving the office-room the typical audio-ambience of a screechy rhythmic noise without which the description of an office would be one notch less, piles of files page-marked and waiting to be attended with the page marks looking like popping tongues of dead bodies hung on the noose. The best of all the reminiscences is the iconic chaprasi/peon/attender, which is the first hurdle you come across in a series of stumbling blocks, in a stereotyped setting, successfully passed on from the British Raj days. The fetish for the colonial inheritance is so much ingrained in our offices and its systems that most of the state governments still follow the rotten Tottenham system of office noting and drafting. Not much seems to have changed despite all efforts to computerize government offices.

One attribute that would be conspicuously missing in a typical government office is the smile on the face of the employee. This is one virtue that has been thrown to the winds, as the employee has been, over years, successfully indoctrinated by his/her own environment to frown and scowl at the visitor. When you visit a government office the first thing one should consciously do is to save your precious smile for some other responsive social setting. In offices where there is a huge scope for interface with citizens of the country, government employees have been over years systematically transformed themselves into brash morons and even a few friendly faces would have eventually morphed into sullen ones over years of indoctrination .

Having started my career in State Government Agriculture Department, the first stint gave me a chance for an introspection and in the next two years I moved on to a public sector institution and then a private sector company before finally settling on doing something of my own for my livelihood. Based on my observation, I can now say that the incidence of corruption was always at its high in the government departments and I also understand the reason why archaic systems were still being followed in the government offices. A total revamping of the office procedures and systems would deplete the chances of corruption and perhaps that is the reason why we still stick on to an archaic globally forgotten Tottenham system, or for that matter, any other obsolete systems and procedures. More than the office procedures and systems, it is the complete erosion of ethics, by the all time greed to make easy money right from the level of chaprasi to the top echelons that has led to this deep rooted rot in the country.

With corruption having set its tap roots so deep and with adventitious roots and prop roots down there supporting the tap root, it has grown like a gargantuan Banyan Tree. Corruption, symbolically, is not only deep rooted but also wide-spread. If the sub-terrain roots depict the corruption perpetrated by the people within the various departments, the terrestrial prop roots that support the tree can be compared to the outside patronage received by politicians and political parties for permanent perpetration of this practice. Among the various departments there is a scramble for the ‘best ones’ as soon as a new government is formed or whenever a Minister is appointed for the particular department. In the State Government the Transport, Commercial Tax, and Public Works Department are the hot ones as there exists well built concealed conduits in all these departments for transfer of money to the top. As fighting elections has become a heavy investment for political parties almost all of them eye for this opportunity and no body would never ever cut this golden goose. In the name of replenishing the drained out coffers of party funds, the top echelon indulges in this act as a matter of right and in the process siphons off some for his use too (just enough to buy a Porsche, Hummer or BMW for his kids as toys!!) and after a stage continues doing it under the pretext of raising funds for the next election. For the links in the conduit, irrespective of who is the top echelon the foraging process just goes on religiously with a work ethic and dharma that is virtually skirmish free and smooth.
There are departments, like the education and agriculture departments, which are ‘dry’ and do not provide scope for the creation of concealed corruption conduits. It is when the employees of such dry departments indulge in corrupt practices, due to momentary impulses to make a quick buck or two that they get caught in the act by the target-happy vigilance department and news is flashed in the media. These small fries may not be doing the act with the dexterity and knack of the rampant ones in the established conduits and therefore would easily become a prey to these hotly published vigilance raids. A sensible citizen will know that these are the small fries in a rotten system where well established syndicates operate and transact huge sums of money day in and day out.

History of corruption traces the practice to the days of the British Raj when British officers had set the practice of taking small favours/tips from contractors, suppliers and other stakeholders. Post independence, the precedence of the practice was reason enough to continue it. As years passed on, typical conduits of corruption have been devised with well laid down rules of the game which each human link in the conduit will have to religiously follow. Post sixties ministers and local politicians became crucial links in the conduits, so much so, that they have now become the high end terminuses in the conduits.

When in the early seventies politics became a ‘profession’ I still remember an incident which gave a chance for my father to explain the situation. My mother had gone to fetch water from the road side tap in our colony that day. We were living in a housing unit, having ninety houses, where mostly government employees were allotted houses in turns. A new lady had come to fetch water that day and my mother got acquainted to her. In the course of the conversation she informed that her husband’s profession was politics. I still vividly remember the day when my mother, rather innocently and inquisitively, asked my father, “Is politics a profession?” My father explained with a sense of shame and remorse in his deliberately used low voice, “Politics was not a noble social work anymore and the days of great politicians like Lal Bahadur Shastri, Kamaraj and C. Subramaniam are out. Politics has come to stay as a profession as there is money in politics.” He further lowered his voice and said, “Yes. It is now a livelihood and only God knows how they earn their money. They should be powerful too. Just look at the way they have managed to get their flat allotted to them out of turn.” These were words of my father, a teacher since his first day of service, and every word was indicative of the typical middle class moral thinking of that time.

So who are the good ones in a typically corrupt office/department? In a typical office were a corruption conduit exists you would still find a few good ones carrying on their job throwing a cool Nelsons eye on the happenings around. This category of employees may be fully aware of the conduit and still would have opted to remain clean. Such people would not normally be coaxed by the conduit members to join them but in turn would be judiciously used in ‘non-committal’ positions. For example the good ones may end up as a record clerk in a Regional Transport Office, a reception-cum-writer in a police station, instructor in a training outfit of the department, so on and so forth. This person would never speak about the existence of a conduit in his/her office. The links in the conduits never fear this lot of their comrades as potential informers or whistle blowers as the good ones ‘behave’ oblivious of the happenings in the office for fear of reprisal.

The next category is the more good-less bad category. This is the category which cannot afford to be out of the conduit as their very existence in the department would be at stake if they do not do their bit in the conduit. The constant fear of being neglected and ostracized, fear of being transferred to difficult places/ hardship areas, denial of promotions, drive this category of employees to get into the conduit. Therefore, a conscience driven person would still join the conduit and opt to remain clean. Yes, it is a difficult proposition. Given the chance of a constant temptation of taking his/her legitimate share in the conduit, a person needs a conviction of Casablanca to stay put clean in the conduit. Many fickle minded ones would soon sway to the next category. One needs to have a high sense of conviction and a bit of chivalry too to be a part of the act of passing on the greased money to the top echelons without laying ones hands on it for their share or in other words without greasing ones own hands. The person opting to be a more good-less bad category needs a strong will power to desist from the perpetual temptation of taking a share of the booty.

The more good-less bad category may be sticking on to the conduit under the impression that they are only victims of a system and after all they do not take a share of the booty and therefore may be absolved from any attempt of framing them up as corrupt. They may be logical in assuming so. They go by the logic that giving bribe and taking bribe is a crime, and just passing on the money amount as not a crime. All said and done these guys would be in a safe haven till everything goes on smoothly. The fact however remains that if such conduits are sincerely busted all hell would break loose and each one of them would be accountable.

The next one is the less good-more bad category. Here the person sheds all his/her inhibitions and takes full participation in the conduit’s activities by not only enabling the smooth flow of the booty down the conduit but also takes a predetermined small share for being an active member of the conduit. These are the ones which can afford to lead a lavish life style, own cars, possess houses in almost all their household members’ names depending on how long they have been in the conduit. A few years back I had a chance to talk to a senior Central Government Officer in Chennai who had got transferred from another metro a few months back. He said that he wanted to get rid of the rut in that metro and had opted Chennai thinking that his department would be better in Chennai. He soon found out that his compatriots in Chennai were in no way better. Corruption was so rampant that many of the top officials in his office, where there were many parallel conduits working, had so much of their share that many were maintaining more than one ‘family’.

In offices where such corruption conduits work the crucial links in the conduits namely the more good-less bad category and less good-more bad category all work in unison and the whole conduit is safeguarded so securely that no watchdog can ever smell what is going on. No one would know when money comes, from where it comes, and where it goes except the conduit members. All members in the conduit work so religiously that no beans are spilled at any cost at any point of time.

All said and done there is a perpetual danger of a Damocles sword hanging on the heads of these persons. What if someone in the link unexpectedly goes berserk due to personal animosity or personal grudge or due to sheer jealousy? What if he turns out to be the whistle blower? A member of the conduit would indict his compatriot or a group of them by remaining incognito but he would also land up in trouble eventually.

The ultimate category is of the ugly ones. These are the impatient ones which jump the conduit’s rules, out of sheer greed, to make a fast buck. These are the underworld dons of the bureaucracy. These are the ones which own vast stretches of land in not only all names in their extended families but also in fictitious names. These are the ones which blatantly profess the religion of corruption with all impunity when in government service and later seek immunity in politics, religion or social service by starting trusts- a clever way of transition from impunity to immunity.

Corruption is a national sickness- an epidemic where middle class morality, value systems and lip sympathy are the only cheaply available prophylactic- an epidemic which affects all segments of the society, the worst being the poor and gullible- an epidemic for which the diagnosis, prognosis and remedy are all done by the public themselves since they themselves are the vectors (carriers) of the virus - an epidemic which is much loathed and despised but little effort has been put forth to prevent the spread- an epidemic which has penetrated into every nook and corner of the judiciary, police, military, central & state governments, public sector, private sector, and religious institutions. Corruption is an epidemic with which the people of the country have learnt to live with.
P.Uday Shankar

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

'Mahatma Gandhi is My Hero', says Obama

07-09/09

As a child my father had bought me scores of books about Mahatma Gandhi, Nehru, Martin Luther King and John F Kennedy many of which I have lost on the way. My father and I were frequent visitors to Baskaran Nair’s kiosk in Pulimoodu Junction, Pai & Sons at Statue Junction and the famous Higginbothams in Thiruvananthapuram in the sixties.

The famous “I have a dream” speech of Martin Luther King made on the 28th August 1963 from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial had remained deeply embedded in my mind as much as the famous “Sisters and Brothers of America” speech of Swami Vivekananda who addressed the World Parliament of Religions in Chicago in the same country.
Later on, as I took interest in history I came to know that Mahatma Gandhi’s Principles of Non-violence have been a source of inspiration for many freedom movements across the globe. It is indeed a matter of great pride for Indians. Today yet again President Obama made me feel proud of our Father of Nation Mahatma Gandhi when he said that Gandhi was his hero. I am a great admirer of Obama and I felt elated to hear his opinion about Gandhiji.

The Hindustan Times carried a good piece of news about this matter and I thought of sharing with you all.

http://www.hindustantimes.com/Mahatma-Gandhi-is-my-hero-says-Obama/H1-Article1-451797.aspx#hide

'Mahatma Gandhi is my hero', says Obama
Lalit K Jha, Press Trust Of India
Washington, September 09, 2009
First Published: 10:33 IST(9/9/2009)
Last Updated: 10:52 IST(9/9/2009)

US President Barack Obama has said given a chance he would like to have dinner with Mahatma Gandhi, whom he considered a real hero.

Obama expressed his desire in response to a question from a student Lilly during his discussion with 9th graders at Wakefield High School in Arlington Virginia where he accompanied with the Education Secretary gave a national speech welcoming students back to school.
Obama called for students to take responsibility and to learn from their failures so that they succeed in the end.

"Hi. I'm Lilly. And if you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?," Obama was asked by one of the students.

"Dinner with anyone dead or alive? Well, you know, dead or alive, that's a pretty big list," Obama responded amidst laughter. The next moment he was serious.

"You know, I think that it might be Gandhi, who is a real hero of mine," Obama said. "Now, it would probably be a really small meal because he didn't eat a lot," he said amidst laughter. But Mahatma Gandhi is someone who has inspired people across the world for the past several generations, he said.

Terming the iconic figure as the source of inspiration for many, Obama said "he (Mahatma Gandhi) is somebody whom I find a lot of inspiration in. He inspired Dr King (Martin Luther), so if it hadn't been for the non-violent movement in India, you might not have seen the same non-violent movement for civil rights here in the United States".
Tailpiece:
Till yesterday I had held Obama in high esteem for being the son of a Microfinance Practitioner (his mother) and for fulfilling the dreams of Martin Luther King. Today my opinion about Obama has gone further up with his opinion about Mahatma Gandhi.
P.Uday Shankar
Coimbatore


Saturday, August 8, 2009

Working in a Jinxed Branch of a Bank

6-08/09

In my earlier blog post of June ’09 titled Road to Manantoddy, (now renamed Mananthavady) I had written about my first trip to Wynaad District, Kerala state in India. Quitting from the Government service in 1982, I was on the way to Mananthavady to join as Rural Development Officer in a nationalised Bank.
The Bank had only one branch in Wynaad District and it was covering the whole district. The picture given to me about Wynaad was that it was a popular punishment placement for government officials and was a difficult place to live and work. Had it not been for the then Manager of the branch, I would have indeed got frustrated. From day one he took good care of me and guided me well. Incidentally he happened to be of my fraternity – a graduate in Agriculture and that was another reason for the proximity. He was the one who patiently taught me banking and initiated me into rural banking. A native of the Lakshadweep Islands, he was a devote Muslim, an altruistic person and big hearted when it came to helping poor customers of the bank. My seeds for Microfinance were in fact sown in this branch despite being plagued with incessant problems.

As days went on it became difficult to work in the branch although the agriculture loan portfolio was being taken care of very well by my team. The Mananthavady branch of the Bank was in a way a jinxed branch. On the first day of my joining the branch I was informed by the Manager about his predecessor’s corrupt practices. The former Manager had landed in jail for his nefarious activities and investigation of the case was still in vogue when I joined the branch.

One year passed of and even before dust could gather on the files of the case, another case of embezzlement of bank’s money by a Senior Clerk came to the fore. This person had been discounting fictitious foreign instruments and had been siphoning off bank’s funds for over a year. The case was first detected by the bank’s inspectors during the regular annual inspection. But it was a bit too late as the culprit had bolted off into oblivion by that time. In a major set back to the branch, the second case was also handed over to the same central agency for investigation.

Two cases at the same time was a bit too much for my Manager to take it lying down. With little moral support and logistics coming in from the headquarters for the branch my friend started showing signs of a grind down of his spirits. As a person doing namaaz religiously five times a day and with an impeccable and unsullied sincerity he started showing signs of withdrawal. By this time a third case of embezzlement also surfaced wherein a Clerk had siphoned off an amount.
With all these three cases and a Nelson’s Eye treatment meted out on the branch by the headquarters forced my friend to take the extreme step of quitting from the position of Manager. It came as a bolt from the blue for most of us in the branch. For me it was a personal loss.

The onus of running the branch then fell on the Assistant Manager who had been desisting from taking up Manager’s position for quite sometime despite his seniority and experience. He took charge of the branch reluctantly with assurance coming from headquarters about immediate support from them. I had to take up the role of joint custodian as there were no officers between him and me. As days went by the assurance vanished in thin air and the Assistant Manager developed cold feet. The recalcitrant attitude of the head office about such a serious matter drew flak from all the staff of the branch. As an officer on probation I was under training and just learning general banking, although the rural finance portfolio was taken care of well by me and my team, I was piqued by the fact that a joint custodian’s responsibility was entrusted on me so early. Just as I was contemplating on the pros and cons of this additional responsibility rammed on me, the Assistant Manager “fell ill” and applied for a fifteen day leave. He handed over the responsibility of running the branch to me and went home.

Driven to the corner I had no other options but to take the responsibility. For a person who had always aspired to join the army, this was like a call to go to the war front ! I get goose pimples even now when I think of that bolt from the blue responsibility. It was the year 1984 and we did not have cell phones and computers. The first job I did was to shoot a one page hard hitting telegram to the head office informing them that a junior officer on probation had been entrusted with the work of running a branch, which had three cases being investigated, and needed new officers to be posted immediately. The Nelson’s Eye attitude of the headquarters seemed to go on undeterred with absolutely no response. I had to run the branch for three months before a Manager was posted. Despite the pressure on me I was able to run the branch without any major problems. The fact however remains that the bank took almost six months to find an alternate Manager for my good friend!

My friend’s predecessor, the former Manager, had a stint in jail and was dismissed from job. He is reported to have ruined his life after that. The Senior Clerk was reported to have been absconding for about two years and finally was caught one day. His life also got ruined after that. The Clerk who got involved in the third fraud case was given a reprieve and was transferred to Cannanore in Kerala. As committing fraud was probably in his DNA he was caught red handed when trying to cheat a lady customer of that branch and was summarily sacked from his job.
Those three fraud cases and the three month stint of running an ill fated branch still remain as a nightmare for me.

I had a chance to see where man’s greed and lust for money can lead to.

I worked in that ill fated branch for two more years before getting a transfer to yet another difficult place.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Twin surprise

5-07/09



Two buds of Nishāgandhi



The two buds at night on 13.07.09



Just before blooming on the night of 16.07.09



In full bloom at 10.30 pm on 16.07.09




The twins in bloom
(all photographs were taken by my son Abhishek)

The Dutchman’s Pipe (Epiphyllum oxypetalum) is a cactus like plant grown in our small garden. Popularly known as Nishāgandhi, this plant blooms at night. It belongs to the cactus family and can be easily grown at home. The flower blooms at the end of a stalk that grows out of the leaf and therefore looks odd. In the stage of a bud the reddish tepals of the flower, which would measure up to 10 cm, give an eerie look to the bud. The bud blooms into a beautiful flower with a scent that is very pleasant. It is said that the aroma of the flower is similar to the smell of benzyl salicylate. The plants in my house have bloomed many times but this night we had a twin surprise. Two buds bloomed at the same time. Normally the flowers bloom between ten and eleven in the night and stay in the bloomed condition for around two hours before they slowly droop down and wither away the next day.

Moving Away from a Beaten Track

4-07/09

My career started in March 1980 in the Indo German Project of the Horticulture Department in Ooty. My work was in the Vijayanagaram Farm and I stayed in the quarters near the farm (please see picture- courtesy Google Earth).
After this first stint of assignment I was shifted to the Collector’s office on deputation to the ARDC Scheme (ARDC- Agriculture Refinance Development Corporation is the old name of NABARD). The scheme office was a hotchpotch of people from different departments and functioned under the State Government.

The scheme office coordinated the work of the four Cooperative Land Development Banks (popularly called LD Banks) in the four Talukas of the Nilgiris District. ARDC refinanced loans to the LD Banks. I was entrusted with the work of inspecting farmers’ plantations before sanction of long term loans for planting tea, coffee, cocoa and pepper and also before release of annual loan instalments in the Coonoor and Kotagiri Talukas. The loans were long term mortgage loans with a major portion of it released in the first year for the purpose of clearing the land, landscaping & soil conservation measures, cost of planting material & planting expenses and maintenance cost for one year. Depending upon the crop three or four more annual instalments of the loan would be extended every year till the plantation is ready to yield.

Specific days were allotted for my visits to the two LD Banks. Farmers who were in need of loan instalments would visit the Bank and I would accompany them to their plantations. Nilgiris District had good roads and buses to almost all the villages and therefore I started insisting on traveling in public transport buses to save the farmers money spent on hiring a car or a Jeep. The practice followed earlier was to engage a car or a Jeep to visit the farms. However, in some cases we had to travel in a car or Jeep as the site would be in a very remote area not connected by buses.

Eventually during the visits I came across another practice which I had to stop with lot of resistance from many angles. There was a practice of tipping the inspecting officer with cash or kind (fruits, tea, coffee, cardamom, pepper etc.) soon after the inspection at the farmer’s plantation. I put a full stop to this system. The practice had been introduced by my predecessors and was then followed as a tradition for quite some time. The farmer who extended the tips seemed to be oblivious of the fact that he was in fact bribing or greasing the palm of the official for a smooth sanction of the loan amount. They were simply adding it to their cost of plantation.
Initially, I tried to educate the farmer that he was in fact committing a crime by extending such a “incentive” to the officer and later, went to the extent of counseling them that if they carried out the plantation work perfectly they had the right to get the next instalment of the loan and they need not waste their hard earned money on bribing officials.

This earnest effort of mine to educate the farmer sent ripples across the banks and the scheme office and I was looked as an intruder on a beaten track. Despite the estrangement I went on the path driven by my conscience. I had hardly worked for nine months and I was transferred to another new project in Kotagiri where my job was, as a Subject Matter Specialist, to train co-workers in methods of dissemination of technical knowledge to farmers under the Training and Visit System of the World Bank financed project.

The day I left the assignment I had a gratification that a new trend was introduced for my successors, if they are conscience driven, to emulate and pursue. As I took the bus to Kotagiri I thought that what I had done was right. If you are not able to make a sea change in a rotten system you can at least make a small difference by not taking the beaten path and by being different.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Road to Manantoddy

3-06/09
In 1982 when I got my posting orders to work as Rural Development Officer in Syndicate Bank, Mananthavady in Wynaad District, (Kerala State-India), I was forewarned that it was a difficult area and was considered as a punishment area for the state government staff of Kerala. The general impression about Wynaad was that it was predominantly a tribal district and it used to be the home of militant Naxalbari activities in the late sixties. They also warned me of the incessant rains and the mosquito menace.

Despite all these impressions I fell in love with the place from day one. The winding uphill bus route from Calicut to Mananthavady (then known as Manantoddy- the anglicised version of Mananthavady), was so picturesque that I got spontaneously inspired to write a poem. I scribbled it on the back side of a cigarette packet while making my first trip to Mananthavady.

Ode to the October Breeze

The October breeze felt my skin that morning,
as I started for my first assignment,
“A ticket to Manantoddy, please”-
And the next second all eyes focussed on me.
I felt ecstatic to be the cynosure
as the October breeze felt my skin that morning.

The steadfast bus streaked through spiral roads
as I kept staring at the striking scenery
of the endless greenery and the morning skyline.
I felt levitating to the soaring Wynaad heights
as the October breeze felt my skin that morning.

Everything around seemed to be lively
as the October paddy with panicle heads
seemed to perform ballet in an open opera
to the tune of twittering early birds.
I was dumbfounded at nature’s choreography
as the October breeze felt my skin that morning.

(The poem was published in the June 1983 issue of Giant- Syndicate Bank’s House magazine.)

As days passed by I had already picked up a platter of spoken Malayalam and was out in the fields most of the time mingling with the tribal families and local settlers. In next four years of my stay from 1982, I got so much involved with the people that we were in jitters when we moved out in 1986. In the next few blog posts I would be writing interesting happenings in Wynaad.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Microfinance and Royal Enfield Bullet

2-06/09
Royal Enfield BULLET 350 cc

It was in the late sixties. As a teenager the bicycle always fascinated me but it was difficult to get one with my parents having their moorings in the middle class. Dame luck however struck when I was in the eighth class. My friend Dilip Kumar’s family was shifting to Madras and they donated their cycle to me - an 18 inches Saibro Model. From then on I went to school driving the bicycle, running errands became easy for me and fetching Siruvani water in two heavy Kudams (water pots) became my daily morning routine.

After post graduating in agriculture and landing up in the villages of Nilgiris the Royal Enfield Bullet- the hefty 350CC motor bike, caught my attention and I started dreaming of riding it some day. Later when I joined the Syndicate Bank as Rural Development Officer at Mananthavady in Wynaad the pre-condition to join was to have a two-wheeler license The Manager politely said that the branch had a Bullet and I should get my license immediately. A local mechanic was engaged to teach me driving. I still vividly remember the way he gaped at my lean and puny physique with probably a question in his mind, “How is this 45 kg guy going to handle this 210 kg beast?”

The first day’s exercise was to push the vehicle manually up and down a road and to place it on its stand. It was like dragging a full grown stubborn horse. The next day when I was allowed to sit on the Bullet it was like placing me comfortably on the saddle of the tamed horse. The fear of weight was erased out of my mind and on the third day I was able to drive my dream vehicle on my own. The Manager, Mr PSM Koya was impressed and bought me a new vehicle.

Driving a Bullet in Wynaad was a real challenge due to the bad condition of the undulating roads and the hilly terrain. The worst part was driving on a rainy day and it used to rain for over eight months in Wynaad! Later, on transfer to Kotagiri in Nilgiris, I insisted on a Bullet and those were my best days. Since the vehicle was driven only by me and was serviced by a seasoned mechanic the unique thumping beat was well recognized from a far of distance.

The most risky stretches were however covered when I was attached to the Kollur branch in Karnataka where an old Bullet was used. My Manager Mr TS Bhat and I used to go to Mudoor village driving across a forest area. It was a virtual dirt track where the powder like red soil used to cover the entire vehicle and our dresses. Snakes, monkeys and hornbills were common sightings but the worst of all was the “close encounter of the furry kind”- a bear crossing the Bullet a few feet ahead! Incidentally all my postings were in difficult places along the Western Ghats mostly considered to be punishment areas. Had it not been for the Bullet these postings would have been a punishment for me as well. Thanks to the Bullet, on the contrary I could do my best in those 16 years in the Bank.

Later in 1998 when I quit the bank job to join as CEO of a start-up microfinance institution in Marthandam, the only facility I insisted on was to provide me with a Bullet. It was nice to be back on the Bullet and on the Western Ghats again. My friend, Mr. Jobins and I used to cover many areas every day and those were real hectic days. We used to spend our daytime in the field and spend late nights doing office work. Had it not been for the Bullet we both would have had recurring back pain.

Once a Bullet always a Bullet goes the famous adage among the Royal Enfield connoisseurs and true to it I could complete my silver jubilee having covered over two lakh kilometers on the Bullet. If microfinance is all about financing the poor, I have been practicing microfinance from 1982 onwards and apart from my personal dedication to the cause; it was the contribution of the Bullet in assisting me in reaching out to thousands of poor families.

I owned a Bullet for sometime but had to do a distress sale when constructing my house. Back to square one, I am again dreaming of a Bullet and this time maybe a Royal Enfield Bullet Thunderbird!