36. PENCIL LINES VS CAREER LINES (1978)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN

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

PENCIL LINES VS CAREER LINES (1978)

CARE: This is Chapter 40 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.

I was posted in the Head Office and travelled by a chartered bus like others. At the end of the day, I would pack up my desk and reach the pick-up point, where I boarded the chartered bus to go home. 

“Haven’t seen you before here. Have you come here recently? Which department?” I looked at the person who had accosted me at the bus stand. He was tall and fair and was smiling warmly. I recognised him instantly: I had seen him in the Bank. 

“Yes. That is right. I have joined this office recently,” I replied politely.

“Where were you earlier? In which department?” he sought more information about me. The guy was my senior by a few years but posted in a different department in the same building. Although he boarded a different chartered bus, our timings coincided, and we met frequently at the bus stand.

“Have you passed the CAIIB examination?” he asked me one day. 

“No. I haven’t,” I sounded disappointed while saying so.

“But why not? Do you know how important it is for your next promotion?”

“I know it very well, sir. I enrolled for CAIIB membership soon after I had the mandatory six months of service. In the first attempt, I cleared four out of five papers of Part 1 without any preparation. But for the fifth paper on Book- Keeping and Accounts, I failed each time I appeared for it,” I smiled to hide my embarrassment. 

“But it is not all that difficult. Why don’t you study for it?” His concern sounded genuine. 

As his chartered bus had come, he picked up his briefcase and left. I felt relieved as I could not have told him how I had been struggling to remember the principles of double entry book-keeping and trying to understand the fundamentals of analysing a Balance Sheet and preparing a Profit & Loss Statement. 

The date of the next CAIIB examination was approaching fast, and I had not been able to prepare for it again. I knew very well that by not qualifying for this all-important examination conducted by the Indian Institute of Bankers. I would be pushed back for promotion by five years. It was, therefore, essential to pass it if I wanted to climb the corporate ladder and chart out a successful career.

The next day, as I waited for the bus in the evening, the fellow approached me again, “Are you taking the exam on Sunday?”

“No. I have received the Admit Card, but I have not been able to prepare for the exam. What is the great idea of appearing and failing again?” I was crestfallen. 

“Who studies for these exams, Madam? One can take it without studying either. I am the Chief Superintendent for this centre. You may bring someone who can write the paper on your behalf. You only sign the answer sheet and enjoy tea with me in my room while he writes the exam for you. I will take care of the rest of it,” he looked at me intently, watching my reaction and waiting for a response. 

I was shocked and disgusted, “What are you saying, sir? How is it possible?”

“Everything is possible, young lady,” he grinned and continued, “How do you think all your seniors have passed this exam? I have helped them all like this only. So, you are coming for the exam next Sunday?” he winked and boarded his bus as I got goose pimples at the very thought of what had been so explicitly suggested by him. 

I could not sleep at night. Would people really take recourse to such derogatory means? Is it not impersonation? How does their conscience permit it? Why was he going out of his way to help me in this devious manner? I hardly knew him. What was the quid pro quo he would have expected from me? What was the meaning of that wink? I have been a good student all my life. There is nothing I cannot clear if I get just a little time to study. I will not resort  to any unfair means, I will study and pass the examination, I resolved.  

Next day on, I delayed my departure by fifteen minutes to take the next chartered bus. As I was circumspect about his intentions, I decided to avoid him. 

Determined to pass the examination, I decided to study hard for the next few days. In the evening, I asked my husband to take our little son out in the park so that I could study for the examination, which could give me a setback of five years. Being a good sport, he agreed, but he was back from the park within half an hour. How long could a man play with his two-year-old child in the public park after a long and tiring day at the office? 

“I cannot play with him in the park anymore. You had better close the bedroom door from the inside and study for an hour. Till then, I will keep him engaged,” my husband said when I opened the door. 

“Okay. Sounds good,” I had no other choice.

Back on the study table and over to “Debit what comes in, credit what goes out…” 

Not even ten minutes passed when I heard a knock at the bedroom door, “Mamma…Mamma… Mamma,” my two-year-old was thumping his tiny hands at the door. 

No mother worth her salt could resist a desperate call from her toddler, especially when he had been deprived of her care and company since morning. I got up, opened the door and allowed him to sit on my lap as I continued my efforts to understand the nuances of balance sheet analysis. 

The child gleefully grabbed my pencil and started drawing haphazard lines on the book. I tried to study for a while but instead was engaged in a dialogue with myself. 

“What business do I have to keep this innocent child deprived of the mother’s love and attention for the whole day?”

“What about your career? Study, woman, study.”

“But this little baby? He needs me.”

“Can you pass this exam without studying? Leave the child with your husband and get serious about your studies.”

“Why did I bring him to this world if I could not give him even an hour of attention in a day?”

“Do you know that you are consciously killing your career?”

“Do I deserve to be called a mother? I am being unfair rather cruel to this little child.”

“What about your career? You will straightaway lose five years and will never be able to make up for that.”

“But the childhood of this baby? Will it ever come back?” 

“You dimwit, your juniors will become your seniors and will order you around.”

“What has he done to deserve this? To be left in the crèche the whole day and missing even the mother’s touch in the evening?”

“Push the baby out of the room. Let him cry. It is a question of a few days only.”

“I have a mother’s heart. How can I be so ruthless?”  

The mother in me had finally won the conflict, and Batliboi’s “Double Entry Book Keeping” was consigned to the loft in the room.

That evening, I consciously decided to put my career on the back burner.

 *****

Fast Forward to 15 Years

“Hey Mom! Give me some dough!” Demanded my teenage son.

“What for son?” I asked while cooking dinner for the family.

“Need to buy a book. Give me Rs 500, and I’ll go and get it right away.” He said impatiently.

“Which book?” I asked without raising my eyes from the pan on the stove.

“Batliboi’s Double Entry Book Keeping. My teacher says it is a very good book,” he clarified impatiently.

The mention of the book evoked memories of yonder years, and I instantly travelled into the time machine by about 15 years.

“Mom! What are you thinking? Please give me the money quickly. Otherwise, the bookshops will close,” my son was getting restless.

“Uh… eh…yeah, will you bring the ladder from outside,” I told him as if waking up from my reverie.

Though irritated, he brought it in and almost dumped it there.

“Now you climb up the ladder,” I said without changing my tone or expression.

“What is all this?” he grumbled but climbed the ladder grudgingly and opened the loft.

“Now look up on the extreme right side. There must be a hard-bound green book. Just pull it out,” I uttered with a smug look.

As my son pulled the book out, he was overwhelmed with joy. “What Mom! This is the book I had been looking for, and you have kept it hidden in the loft?” He pushed the ladder aside and cleaned the dust off the book cover. He rushed to his room to resume his studies but was back in two minutes. 

“Such a lovely hard-bound cover and costing only Rs 16? These days, even a paperback costs about Rs 300. But Mom, who has drawn these mindless pencil lines on it, spoiling the entire book?” Not waiting for a response, he rushed back to his room with the book clutched under his arm. 

I knew well the relevance of these pencil lines in my career. When these pencil lines were drawn on the book, I had consciously erased the career lines from my palm!

(To be continued.....)

*****