17. DECODING A RUMOUR (YEAR 1972)

STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN
The Highs and Lows of A Woman’s Journey in the Corporate World

CARE: This is Chapter 17 of my book Stress, Success and Everything In-Between. These are individual anecdotes but to understand the professional journey in totality, I would recommend reading the book from Chapter 01 onwards.

One fine morning at the Swaroop Nagar Branch, I arrived early to prepare my desk for the day. While engrossed in these preparations, I observed the Branch Manager entering the room. He approached my table and plonked himself on the chair in front. With an inscrutable expression, he put his hand in his coat pocket, took out a pack of cigarettes and extended it to me casually, "Have a cigarette, Miss Sharma?"

Caught off guard by this unexpected proposition, I replied, "I do not smoke, sir." My voice was filled with a feeling of outrage. It is common now to see a woman smoking. But in those days, a woman smoking a cigarette was considered almost akin to her having questionable morals.

Unperturbed, he continued, offering me the cigarette again and urging, "Oh, come on now and do not pretend. Have a smoke."

Frustration filled me up as I reiterated, "But I actually do not smoke."

Wearing a wily grin, he leaned in closer, the cigarette dangling from his hand, and whispered, "You need not lie so early in the morning. I am quite certain you are a smoker. Why keep it a secret? I will not breathe a word of it to anyone, I promise."

I had never in my life so much as handled a cigarette, let alone indulged in smoking. The suddenness of this peculiar conversation left me in shock. My discomfort was deepening by the second. He continued persistently in his cajoling while I tensely tried to wriggle out of this increasingly awkward situation.

"No, sir. Honestly, I do not smoke," I repeated umpteenth time with unmistakable exasperation.

Finally, he revealed the source of his information, "You see, I was at the Head Office yesterday, and during a conversation among some officers, they mentioned that the new lady officer in your branch is a chain smoker." I was bewildered.

Unable to suppress a retort, I shot, "I have been working in this office for the past two months. Have you ever seen me smoking?"

"No, I have not. But I thought you might be discreetly smoking in the restroom, away from the public eye. That is why I thought it best to ask you directly. We could enjoy a smoke together," he explained, with an unapologetic demeanour.

I held my ground with a resolute response: "No. I do not smoke, and I have never smoked." I uttered each word slowly and firmly.

 Disappointment evident, he finally got up from the chair and returned to his desk, and I heaved a sigh of relief. But the question continued to haunt me. I kept wondering why people were saying such imaginary things about me. I could not sleep at night until the wee hours of the morning when I had a sudden flash, and the entire sequence of events became crystal clear.

The roots of the rumour perhaps lay in a battle of wits I had with a senior officer in my previous posting in Lucknow. The Head of the Circle was visiting the city, and a gathering had been arranged for local officers to meet him over tea. Nearly a hundred officers had assembled for the interaction. I was also standing there in the crowd. A comparatively senior officer standing next to me had an urge to smoke before the arrival of the big boss. He pulled a pack of Charminar cigarettes from his pocket. He was about to light it when he decided to pull my leg and extend the pack to me, with his eyes twinkling with mischief, “Miss Sharma! Cigarette?”

Half a dozen of his cronies who stood around him enjoyed the act thoroughly and broke into raucous laughter.

Refusing to feel embarrassed and get cowed down, I retorted tongue in cheek, “This is not my brand.”

For the uninitiated, let me share that Charminar was considered the cheapest brand of cigarettes, and I had taken a potshot at that.

At my response, his face fell. Pouting his lips, he asked, “Oh, uh, er! So, which is your brand?”

Those days, I was fond of reading Life magazine, which used to have a full-page advertisement for Rothman cigarettes with chic ladies smoking Rothman Lite with style.

I shrugged shoulders and quipped, “If it were Rothman, I would have taken it.”

The face of the senior person fell further. His effort to pull my leg had back-fired. The onlookers, who thus far had relished our banter, discreetly distanced themselves from the scene.

As far as I was concerned, the exchange had concluded then and there. Little did I realize that it had sparked a chain reaction, setting ablaze a wildfire of gossip that had reached Kanpur even before my arrival.

In my effort to unravel the origin of this rumour, I had learnt firsthand the process of genesis of a rumour.Top of Form

 

(To be continued.....)

*****