19. SHHH... A SECRET ACHIEVEMENT (YEAR 1973)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN

The Highs and Lows of A Woman’s Journey in the Corporate World

CARE: This is Chapter 19 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.

In the early part of 1973, I landed up at the Faizabad Branch of the Bank, which was housed in an old sprawling building constructed in quintessential British style with grand arches and a façade painted in a typical shade of biscuit-yellow.

When I met the Branch Manager, he directed an officer from his secretariat to introduce me to the rest of the employees. Moving around the multiple rooms in the branch and getting introduced to the staff members, I noticed there was not a single female employee in the office. I was not surprised: this is what I had expected.

As soon as the introductions were over, I was assigned to the Savings Bank section of the Bank. All of a sudden, it hit me that I was the solitary woman in an otherwise male-dominated banking hall where all the colleagues, as well as the customers, were men - men at the counter, men across the counter, men behind me, men on the left and men on the right. I became aware that all eyes were glued to me. This was the first time in the long history of the branch that a woman had been posted there. I felt highly conscious of the glaring eyes and spontaneously pulled the pallu of my saree over my back and wrapped it tightly over my right shoulder as if to save myself from their unabashed stares.

It was a cold winter morning, and without thinking of its repercussions, I kept gulping cup after cup of hot tea, maybe to relieve my anxiety in a new place. In no time, my primal need compelled me to look around for the basic necessity called the washroom. Soon, the urge became stronger. I recalled while taking the round of the branch in the morning, I had not spotted any such facility.

I was the only female employee in the branch: who should I ask, I wondered. It was embarrassing to ask a male colleague about the location of the toilet. Had this happened today, I would have walked up to anyone and enquired about it. But in those days, it was considered a big taboo. Thinking about it for some time, I decided to ask AC, a fellow Probationary Officer who had been posted there longer than me and was familiar with the layout of the branch.

I gathered courage, walked up to his table with desperation writ large on my face, and asked him hesitatingly, “Umm…uh...Any idea which way is the toilet for women?”

“Uh…umm…,” he was obviously unsure. “I do not know, but I will find out and let you know.”

I returned to my desk and again started passing vouchers, lifting a heavy ledger each time, side-initialling the entry and then dumping it on the nearby tripod.

In a few minutes, which felt like an eternity, AC came to me on the pretext of handing over some vouchers and, while doing so, whispered softly, “There is no toilet for women here in the branch.” I felt highly desperate, but he offered a brilliant solution. "The residence of the Branch Manager is located at the back of the building. At lunchtime, you could go there, introduce yourself to his wife and use their toilet. The boss does not go home before 2.30."

I felt so relieved to hear this. Fifty years have passed since this, but even today, I am grateful to AC for his out-of-the-box thinking and for providing a solution when I needed it the most.

As the clock in the banking hall struck two and the public dealings got over, teetering on the brink of physical discomfort, I headed straight to the residence of the Branch Manager, introduced myself to his wife, used her toilet and breezed out merrily, well before her husband arrived for lunch at 2:30pm.

This routine continued for a few weeks until the lady decided to visit her parents to attend the wedding of her brother. I was once again in the throes of loo blues.

By this time, I had become more adventurous and decided to hunt for a toilet in the building. Having lived during my childhood in huge British-style bungalows, I was confident that there had to be some toilet hidden somewhere in this sprawling property.

I decided to undertake a discreet survey of the labyrinthine layout of the building and started scouring every recess of the building during lunchtime when most employees were away. If somebody ever asked me what I was doing, I told them I was trying to familiarise myself with the premises. The search yielded no results in the first few rounds, adding to my disappointment.

The departure date of the first lady was inching closer, and the frustration level within me was mounting up speedily. The issue here was I had not learnt to share my problems with anybody and always thought I had to resolve them myself.

Just as I was about to give up, Lady Fortune smiled at me, and what I found was indeed nothing short of a pot of gold.

Having explored every nook and cranny of the premises, I reached a secluded part behind the building. Lifting my saree up with both hands, I treaded over piles of dry leaves and rat holes, peering at the ground, scared of encountering a snake at every step. One day, I reached the farthest end of the building, where I saw a hidden alcove and a seemingly abandoned door beckoned me. I pushed it gingerly. Its hinges creaked and sang an eerie tune. One more push and the door opened.

When my eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room, I could figure out that it was perhaps an abandoned bathroom, a sort of small cubicle with a round hole for a drain. And the door could be latched from the inside, providing much-needed privacy. As my eyes got used to the darkness, I stared harder. I also noticed two bricks placed side by side and a small tap.Voila! I jumped with joy: it was an eureka moment for me. I found what I was searching for... my very own private toilet.

My new toilet was unkempt but I did not care. It was dirty but I could not be bothered. It did stink, but I could not care less. It was pitch dark except for a thin streak of light from above the door. The huge comfort was that it had four walls around it, which provided me a modicum of privacy. It was the only reality that mattered at that moment. During the next five months, that crude, dark, mostly waterless and stench-ridden room became my instant luxury toilet. It was my fortress of solitude. I never felt so happy even while staying in Hotel Conrad, a five-star luxury hotel in Tokyo and using its most sophisticated toilet as I did on finding this amazing discovery in the remotest abandoned corner of Faizabad branch premises.

Loo blues were plenty in future postings also, but finding this personal toilet after days of tireless exploration in the wilderness was one of my most cherished secret achievements.

(To be continued...)

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