The speed of bribe

I went up to him to submit my form for a duplicate degree certificate. He looked at me and then gazing for a few seconds he uttered, "Archana Bahuguna!". I was a little pleased. If he remembered me after so many years, it could be a good omen. I handed over the bag to him. "Sir yeh chocolates", I barely muttered with a smile. He quickly grabbed the bag and put it into his drawer. It was the topmost on the right side of the table. I wondered what else was there. More sweets? Hard cash? Bottles of whiskey? I had been told he takes them all. The rest of it was easy conversation, some digging into good old memories, cribs about the indifference and disregard of the new generation of students and a lot more. All this with the icing on the cake- the assurance that my work shall get done!

I went back happy.

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It had been three weeks. I was hoping the Muhoort for my degree had arrived. Just before I was about to leave home, dad asked me if I was carrying any sweets etc. This coming from a person who's fought all his life for his rights and duties, without giving or receiving an iota of anything from anyone. I did not feel right about it this time. I had already given him chocolates last time I thought. That should be good enough for him to do his job. But to save myself the enormous pain of having to go again and again and literally fight or beg for my degree, I thought it prudent to buy a box of sweets. "Bhaiya, ek 1/2 kilo Rasgullas aur Gulabjamun pack kar do". But I had made up my mind. I would open up the box for everyone in office once I get my degree. I will not bribe him again. I wrapped the sweets in a khaki paper so you could not exactly make out what it was. A reward, it would be then. My conscience gave a nod.

Once at the office, I was asked to wait for him. It was a short but uncomfortable wait. He finally emerged from around the corner of the staircase. "Are Archana ji, kya haal hain" he said. I liked the acknowledgement and the zing in his voice. I smiled as hard as I could and replied with "Aap kaise hain" and other such hollow talk. It did not last long. Obviously I had not come driving 25 miles to ask about his well being. I started with "Sir, woh degree ...". He gave a frowning expression, "Degree ...hmm...dekhna padhega". And then his eye caught attention of the khaki wrap. I was holding it tight to my chest. "Ismein kya hai?" he asked. I could barely finish with "Sir woh mithai.." and he literally snatched the box from my hand and put it into his drawer. Moment of shock. And then he said, "Toh yeh kaho na mithai laaye ho!". I held out the receipt to show proof of application which he totally rejected and said, "Yeh kya dikha rahe ho mujhe? Degree yeh rahi aapki". I blinked and my degree certificate was shining brightly in front of my eyes.

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(ps: Ironically, his name is as holy and Godly, as possible.)

Pingpong

Latest I found myself trying my hand at pingpong. Just before you guys start getting any ideas, I am a no-brainer in sports. The only "sports" I have been ever part of are of Kho-kho, Statue, and Pakadan-pakadayi types. I used to be last in all races in school. Except for one marble-and-spoon where I won the third prize. The story being there were only three participants and once the first two made it, I was asked to walk as slowly as possible for a sure-shot third place. Amongst all my school certificates this is the only one that boasts of belonging to the realm of sports!

Now that you've had a good enough background of my sports life, let me go further into my story. My TT partner was a friend as equally well-equipped with sports-skills as your highness. A quick save-us-from-embarassment scan into the recreation room revealed only one party of two playing darts. This was heavenly because it meant we would be playing that evening. Many times before we had not been so lucky. Anyways, as the game began, we gradually started to enjoy ourselves instead of trying to be in the act of playing. Needless to say, we skillfully missed every second shot. The ball hit everywhere except the table. We also changed the rackets twice wondering whether it was the racket that was doing it. And other stuff like that. But we were laughing hard throughout.

Our fun however did not last long. As the clock turned 5, the room started getting filled with folks. Soon, all TT tables adjacent to ours were occupied. We tried to ignore them for a while. But as adept as we tried to be at the game, the ball kept jumping off the table and rolling all over the floor. More often than not, it would go under the tables of other folks. I would hope against hope that they wouldnt throw the ball back to us. Coz although that would be a nice gesture, we would inevitably miss the throw and find the ball rolling over to another side. There would be secret smiles exchanged and sympathetic looks given. Although my feminist pride wanted to show them off, reality took the good of me and we finally called it a day.

Well, I am going to play again!