I am not good at fixing matches. According to my wife, I am not even good at fixing the leaky faucet in the kitchen sink. But my kith and kin believe that I am capable of fixing anything under the sun. I have been a city dweller for years. My relatives living in rural areas believe that the big bad city is full of predators and if I survived for so long in a metropolis, I must be a certified fixer.
One of my aunts asked me to fix her daughter’s marriage alliance. The boy’s parents were living in the same city where I resided. The aunt asked me to sweet-talk to them. I visited the boy’s house and ate sweets and savouries, washed down with a cup of degree coffee. The aunt’s daughter was a good looking, employed girl. The boy and girl liked each other and tied the knot. The aunt told all in the wedding hall that I was the one who sweet-talked my way into the groom’s family and I could be safely entrusted with the task of fixing union of hearts.
My sister-in-law’s husband was employed in Saudi Arabia. He got a better job in another Gulf country. His Saudi employer was delaying his relief. The sister-in-law asked me to request the ministry of external affairs to put pressure on the Saudi employer to accept her husband’s resignation and relieve him. The lady, somehow, thought that if I lived in Delhi, I was capable of influencing everybody in the city. I knew I will not be able to enter any office in Delhi without an ID card and entry pass. It so happened that the Saudi employer was bored with my relative’s pestering and relieved him. My sister-in-law mistakenly believed I pulled wires and fixed things. She profusely thanked me.
A cousin living in a small town told me that his company wanted to open an office in the city to expand their business. He requested me to refer some building owners to him so that he could rent an office building. I told a broker to go and meet my cousin. It so happened that a satisfactory deal was arrived at and I got the credit by default.
An elderly relative living in a village wanted a few years he put in the armed forces to be added to his pension service record. He asked me to meet the officials concerned and do the spadework. The official file moved at its own pace and the relative got his enhanced pension in due course. Though I was a passive spectator, the elated relative praised my ability to fix things.
People have been requesting me to fix various things from time to time. As luck would have it, without my interference many such requests were successful. I earned the sobriquet, “fixer”. But, now I am in a fix. Ever since the cricket fixing scandal broke out, I have been requesting my folks to avoid branding me a fixer, lest a policeman overhears it and summons me for questioning.
