I finished inspection of production facilities in a couple of factories located in the suburb and proceeded to meet the local office’s new head who had assumed charge the day before. He had taken over from his less rigid and generous predecessor. I was waiting in the lounge. As I heard his approaching footsteps, I lifted my head from the eight column headine of a national daily which announced the Indian Army’s triumph and liberation of Bangladesh the previous day. The clock on the wall just chimed three times and there was the new officer-in-charge — a colonel in olive green with ribbon medals, depicting his valour and gallantry, re-approaching his chamber with a regal gait. A satin OG scarf around his nape and neck reminded me of his being a survivor of throat cancer.
He settled in his chair and gestured me in. A tiny green lamp was glowing at the entrance to the chamber. A tray, containing a shining floral jug and golden rimmed cups and saucers, was kept softly on the table by an orderly. The colonel made black tea in two cups and offered me one. He pushed the tray to my side and commenced sipping his tea.
The hotline was ringing. He answered the call in mono syllables and gestured to me. I understood and proffered the typed note. Glancing over it, he mentioned over the phone softly but firmly — Alpha 37, Beta 26, Charlie 52, Delta 108. The numbers indicated the vehicles cleared for despatch. A tall civilian officer with a couple of case files approached hesitantly and meekly sought approval for payment of casual overtime claims of administrative staff. The very mention of the word ‘overtime’ seemed to have offended the colonel. The civilian officer explained the need of overtime work and blanket permission granted in the past for the same. When the colonel asked whether they would be engaged so the same evening. He said yes.
The colonel and I left the office in the office staff car. Midway, he instructed the driver to drive back to office. The car went past the security wicket-gate, stopped and the colonel got down and I too. The clock at the gate showed it was 4.20! He had a brief chat with the security man and glanced at the entries in a register, where the name of the orderly officer, time when the office key-bunch was deposited and his timed signature were recorded.
The entire office was closed, locked and sealed leaving no possibility of any staff working overtime. However, under the banyan tree, on a cylindrical cement platform, six admin staff exposed to sunshine were found playing cards. On seeing our car, one among them shouted in Hindi “bhaag -bhaiyya-bhaag” (run, brother run!). They threw the cards away and ran helter-skelter tipping their empty lunch boxes and water bottles.
Next day at 8 o’clock, I was in the colonel’s chamber. He summoned all the civilian staff who had submitted claim for overtime work for several months, including the previous working day! Six of them turned up. The Colonel told them to produce all case files which they had dealt with during the previous day overtime. A few moments later, the case files were brought to his chamber. Ignoring those files, he instructed them to produce all the case files which they had dealt with during the normal working hours of the previous day. The staff went away with deadpan faces.
The colonel lighted a cigar and twirling smoke rings were emanating from his mouth. I excused for a while and returned a few moments later. He told me to accompany him. We went to the section where the admin staff were in a huddle around their in-charge. With the arrival of the colonel, the civilian admin staff — six of them — and their in-charge were all taken aback. The colonel announced that since they had already produced the work done during normal hours as overtime work, they would never be able to produce the case files dealt with during normal working hours. With this averment, they were nonplussed. I couldn’t help marvel at his sharp deduction without ever touching the claims.
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