Greasing the palm

Saturday, 06 December 2008 12:30

Written by Max Babi, maxbabi.com

greasing_the_palm We are trained in India to laugh it off, this curious phenomenon called corruption. We use a wide range of euphemism to lend a hue of respectability to what seems to me to be an unforgivable crime against humanity.

If you think as a satirist I am going to poke fun at this serious business, read this : I was a part of a high power management executive team of 23 serious young men sent to Khandala, a hill resort near Pune, for management training. Everything was perfect, the locale, the ambience, the food and drink, even the accommodation and the proceedings. Then it happened.

One of us, a strapping youth, a trainee in management who was also doing his Ph. D. in an advanced subject bordering on physics but useful to our multinational company was asked to get up (the trainer wanted some of us to shed our shyness and inhibition, a lot of beer didn't really help) and talk about 'the most moving moment in his life, one which really haunted him'… the trainer probably regretted this topic because Ashwin the trainee manager, told us a harrowing tale that made even the coldest eye moist or dripping.

'We live near the railway tracks, in a suburb nearly 50 KMs off Pune, and I visit my mother once in a month or less. Two years ago, I had been home and she woke up early, and quietly walked out to cross the tracks and buy some bread to cook breakfast. I was rudely awoken from my sleep by my noisy neighbours' kids, yelling my mother had been run over by an express train. In a state of shock, I ran to where her body lay, covered with a white sheet, only two or three railway police personnel stood there, chatting, cracking jokes and sipping hot tea. Your mother, young man? Asked a gruff voice, and still feeling shell-shocked I nodded in the affirmative. You want the body? He asked me as if he were talking about my lost bag or briefcase. My mother, one who toiled day and night to bring me up… meant nothing to this bully. Then he hit me on the hit with his next statement. Give me Rupees Three thousand if you want the body. I was incoherent, I wanted to attack him… but he turned to the crowd of idlers standing and gaping and said these guys will go and ask for Rupees three lakhs as compensation, why shouldn't I get one percent?' Ashwin broke down and cried like a baby. Most of us polished executives did the same. The trainer looked outside the window, and dabbed at his own eyes.

Death has become a commodity in our poor nation. It would thus not make an eye blink twice if we came to know that the tiny tot leading an older person to our car, asking for alms, is aware that the eyes of that man or woman were gouged out so that he or she could command more money in begging. Kids with broken limbs or deformed ones, have been deliberately maltreated by their undernourished elders so that they become an item in the freak show at every traffic island.

Corruption today is not only about money –it is mainly about our corrupted souls, to begin with. We are all quite used to the idea that corruption like oxygen pervades the atmosphere. Don't we offer small bribes to Gods, when asking for favours? The much touted merchants of death all over the world, know that religion is just one more excuse in this unending war between good (marginalized) and the bad (burgeoning shamelessly). Hindus have helped terrorists obtain arms, during the Mumbai blasts of 1993, they may have been carriers, cops, customs officers, coast guards, traffic management cops, or the widely maligned bureaucrats. Muslims have killed Muslims, and that applies to all other communities.

I do see possibilities of satire there. But more some other time.

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Ramachandra Menon: Greasing the palms

It is a true story. It happens in hospitals where postmortem is conducted. They wont release the body unless they are paid what they demand. In Kerala, a poor man could not get the dead body of his wife released from the hospital unless he shells out Rs.25000/-.. He pleaded with them crying but to no avail. He had no money at all. A woman constable who was watching the scene was so moved that she removed her own gold bangles and gave him to help him to raise the money. This was noticed by the media and the constable was praised for her kindness. Her bangles were retrieved and she was given an award of Rs.25000/- for her kindness. Several organisations organised receptions for her and she was praised all over. There are great sould among the crowd of mucks.

December 07, 2008

Stanger: ...

Touchy story... cant we do anything or atlast something??? I hate myself for being so helpless for any such sufferers.

February 08, 2009

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