30. A TIGHT-ROPE WALK FOR ALL (YEAR 1975)

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

CARE: This is Chapter 30 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 right from Chapter 01 onwards.

My initial team at the all-women branch was young, enthusiastic and well-armed with the ambition to make the new venture a success. Unfortunately, all of us had very little knowledge of branch operations. There was no guidance from the controllers and no visit by the Area Superintendent. We did not even have the luxury of falling back on the age-old system of "Peechhe Dekh, aage chal." Still, we waded through the maze of the system and procedures, handled heavy workloads without getting stressed, and faced a demanding and sensitive clientele with a smile. 

The Branch staff with Lok Sabha Speaker Shri GS Dhillon in 1975

Looking back today, running a branch of that profile feels like child's play. But at that time, it was a big challenge for us, as we all were green-horns. Heading an all-women branch had its quota of unique issues that every working woman of our generation experienced. We had to prove our worth at the workplace and also at home. However heavy the workload was, we worked hard and efficiently and finished it within office hours, as staying beyond office hours was not an option for anyone. 

The average age of the team was 26, and at 25, I was the youngest of the lot. We ate together, laughed together and discussed freely our personal issues. We were a strong team, cohesive and close-knit.

 

Each team member faced unique domestic pressures. From rigid family schedules to familial expectations, we found ways to manage both our personal and professional lives. 

Shivangi* (not her real name) had to reach home by 5.45pm because her mother-in-law had to leave for her evening Kirtan and refused to look after her one-year-old son even for a minute more. If Shivangi was late even as much as five minutes because she could not get onto a crowded DTC bus despite pushing and jostling, the mother-in-law would drop the child with some neighbour and push off for her evening satsang. 

 

The problem of Kritika* (not her real name) was even worse. Her husband picked her up at 4.50 pm sharp. She was expected to wait for him at the roadside when he reached. If she was late even for a minute, she faced his wrath. She was also required to hand over the entire salary to her husband with the updated passbook on the salary day. He also kept her under total surveillance. He used to ring her up at least twice daily, and if she was not found on the desk, she owed him an explanation. Despite his close monitoring, she was keen to undertake all outside jobs because it entailed payment of travelling bills, money which she needed to financially help her widowed mother and spastic teenage sister as they had no source of income. She took all her travelling expenses in cash and secretly passed them on to her mother. If her hubby learnt that she was out on official duty, he would take away that money also from her. So she never shared with him about these jobs. She would also request me to cover up for her when she went for outdoor jobs, and I did so diligently without any qualms. None of us would mind telling a harmless lie to help our colleague in need: the mutual trust was very high. 

 

Once, her mother fell ill, and Kritika needed to be with her. But her husband and mother-in-law would not allow her to visit her mother. Listening to her woes, I granted her leave despite an acute staff shortage. During the next three days, she entered the branch as usual after her husband dropped her at the gate, said Hi to all and left immediately to look after her mother. She accompanied her to the doctor, got her medicines, and cooked her meals. During the day, she would call me a couple of times from a nearby PCO to check whether her husband had called and if so, at what time. She would then call him back from there and pretend she was calling from the office. In the evening, she would rush back to the branch and then walk out leisurely with others to meet her husband. Kritika was fortunate that entry to the building was totally restricted, and there was no way her husband could come inside snooping on her. Thank God there were no cell phones those days. Otherwise, he would have tracked her location or asked her to talk to him on video call. The tension of disappearing from the workplace and maintaining the façade as if everything was normal was quite demanding, and she always lived in a shadow of fear. 

I had a year-and-a-half-old son whom I used to drop in a creche in All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS), very well-managed by the wives of the doctors. My child was happy there, but we had to pick him up by 6pm. So I also could not stay beyond 5.40 pm.

 

Celebrating festivals is the responsibility of women in our society. First of all, came the Navratras, followed by Durga Ashtami. All the girls had the domestic pressure to take leave or at least go to work late so they could perform Devi Poojan and feed the Kanjakas (little girls). In their previous branches, the women were allowed to come late on this occasion, and the male staff usually filled up for them. If all were to come late, how would this branch function, I asked them. It was suggested that I request the Head Office to depute some male employees for that day. I knew it was not possible. I persuaded them and gave them some tips for quick cooking. It worked, and they also appreciated the issue. All of them managed to reach the branch on time after completing the religious ritual at home. 

 

Next came Karwa Chauth, a festival when all married women observe fast for the welfare of their husbands. All were to observe a fast that day and wanted to avail of leave. How could I allow that? I persuaded them to come in the morning and assured them that I would allow them to leave early, well in time to perform the afternoon pooja. I also explained that the day would pass without hassles if they were busy. They agreed to come, but all started looking wilted and pale by afternoon. One of them felt giddy. I went to the banking hall and announced that I was ordering some tea for myself. “Anyone interested?” I asked.

They looked at each other in shock and asked me, “How can you do that? Will it not break your fast?” 

“No. Definitely not. By doing a full-time job, am I not helping my husband by adding to the family income? So, there should not be any problem in tweaking the rules for the sake of our job. God also understands that.” I replied, but they were not convinced. 

I returned to my room, called the Canteen and spoke loudly, “Two cups of ginger tea. And please make it thick, half water, half milk.” Before I hung the phone down, the Head Cashier, the eldest of all in age, walked in, “Two cups for me too.” As I revised the order, others also walked in and chanted almost in unison, “Me too, me too.”

Everyone was rejuvenated after drinking two cups of hot ginger tea each. It was agreed that we should not mention this to anyone. After all, what happens in Vegas must stay in Vegas. 

 

I have not yet told you about Simran*, the messenger, who had joined in the subordinate cadre on compassionate ground as her husband, a messenger, met with an accident while on duty and died. Simran* was young and full of joy de vivre. The first time, when I saw her walking into the branch draped smartly in a bright yellow 644 made in Japan saree, which was the craze those days, a matching blouse and matching yellow high-heeled sandals with a leather clutch bag tucked under her arm, I could not believe that she was a messenger. Fair and buxom with her head held high and hair tightly pulled back in a bun, she could make anyone turn his head to have a second look at her.

Simran* was entitled to the uniform and asked cash advance for it. In the past, no one had ever asked her for a receipt for such mundane things in the big branch where she worked earlier. But I, as a text-book Branch Manager, started asking her why she was not coming in the prescribed uniform, which was a white khadi saree and white khadi blouse. My daily reminders forced her to admit that she did not buy a khadi saree and would not wear one as it was cumbersome. I understood her point and allowed her to buy two 644 Japanese sarees, provided they were white as per the norms for the uniform for subordinate staff. The difference in the cost will have to be borne by her. The problem was resolved, and she continued to sizzle in her well-draped synthetic georgette sarees, albeit white in colour now. She also bought white sandals to match her white uniform. This change did not dent her glamour quotient even a wee bit. 

 

We worked hard and mobilised the salary accounts of all the staff working in the building. Thousands of accounts were opened in a week. This led to an unprecedented increase in our workload. It became increasingly difficult to cope, but the controlling office was not cooperating. I sought help from a nearby Branch Manager who agreed to depute a Clerk for three days to help me. 

The clerk deputed to our branch was a handsome fellow, tall and fair and with a good physique. Aware of his good looks, he walked into my room the next day with much elan. Covering his eyes with stylish Ray-Ban glasses and wearing fashionable pointed toe shoes and denim jeans, he entered the branch like a hero. I had already arranged a separate table for him away from the main banking hall and explained everything to him. He sat down and started working. 

During lunchtime, the girls asked him to join them for lunch. Being the only man amidst half a dozen beautiful young women, all asking him personal questions, he became very conscious of himself. After lunch, when I went to check on the progress of his work, his cheeks looked vermillion. The plight of the only man in an all-women branch was worse than that of a single woman in an all-male outfit. He did not come the next day. I called his Branch Manager to check, but he laughed and said he could not survive in an all-women branch. I asked the girls but they only looked at each other and giggled. I knew instantly that it was the reverse of eve-teasing. Should we call it Adam teasing?

 

After the deputed clerk refused to come, the challenge of clearing those arrears fell on me. At 4.45pm, after my staff left, the sprawling floor used to be deserted, making the place absolutely eerie. I usually used to sit alone to check the books, but how long could I sit there alone? I also had to pick up my son from the daycare centre, which closed at 6pm. So, I would carry the Day Books and the Master Progressive home, and after our only kid went off to sleep, hubby and I would sit down and balance the books till midnight. This could not go on for long as one day, while driving back home, our car started emitting smoke. As hubby stopped the car, I jumped out, picked up our son with one arm and with the other, pulled out the ledger and the balance book.  

 

All of us were struggling to balance our official and domestic lives and responsibilities. The family of everyone expected them to discharge their household duties efficiently. But at the workplace, all eyes were glued on our performance without providing any help or guidance. It was a tight-rope walk for all of us.

 

We fought all odds together, standing by each other with utmost sincerity until some evil eye fell on us and a disruptive element was added to our team. More about her later!

 (*All names have been changed and faces masked to protect their identities.)

(To be continued....)

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