Combating
Corruption
by Vijai Pant
While big
political scams make waves, a little greasing of
the palm here and there, with we sometimes taking
the initiative to facilitate ‘ease of doing
business’ (pun intended) in our daily lives
hardly raises any eyebrows till someone stupid
like me candidly confesses and shares with the
readers the memories of that unforgettable
journey to a renowned hill station.
My wife,
like so many others, had become a die-hard anti-graft
crusader at the height of the movement for a
strong ombudsman in the India of August 2011. In
fact, she personally wanted to be a part of the
movement. It was her motherly duties towards the
little one which dissuaded her. But, of course,
that did not prevent her from getting enamoured
of the sea of humanity wearing Gandhi caps and
waving the tricolor. “Things look so
promising,” she would gush.
The
movement had also caught the fancy of the people
of my home state, with flash mobs pouring out on
the roads to vent their ire against the all
prevalent bribe culture.
It was in
the midst of such a surcharged atmosphere that we
had to go up to the hills to attend a family
function. En route while stopping for tea we were
told by the chaiwalla, presumably another
anti-graft crusader like us, how Gandhi topis
had been selling like hot cakes in the region and
also how people’s patience against
corruption was wearing thin.
While we
were having our tea and listening to the shop
owner’s tirade against the corrupt practices
of the high and mighty, my wife reminded me that
if we do not cross the toll barrier, which was
another 25 km from there, before 3 pm, we would
have to shell out double the amount. The rule was
that the entry fee increased to a pinching 100/-
from a modest 50/- for vehicles entering the hill
station after 3.
I hurriedly
gave a fifty rupee note to the stall owner. He
replied that he had no change and literally
forced us to have some buns. We were a little
sour at his attitude, as we perceived him to be
yet another ‘comrade in arms’ in the
fight against corruption. While heading towards
our car I thought I heard him say to his helper
that there was no other way to get rid of those
stale buns. So much for a united fight against
corruption!
As the
vehicle started its painful ascent from there, I
was exhorted by my wife to press on the
accelerator. It was past 2 pm and there was still
a lot of distance to cover before reaching the
toll post. Despite my best efforts, we reached
the toll a shade past 3pm, which, with a little
flexibility could have gone our way. However, the
person manning the toll refused to budge and,
justifiably, demanded 100/-.
As I
unsuccessfully tried to reason with him, my wife
called him to her side, rolled the window down
and thrust a crumpled 50/- note into his hands.
Before he could say anything, she remarked,
“No! No! We don’t want a receipt. You
may keep this.” His tough expression quickly
changed to a helpful one. He promptly slid the
barrier to one side and the vehicle sped away,
leaving a trail of dirt behind.
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