49. SECURITY BIZ OR A PERSONAL QUIZ? (YEAR 1989)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN

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

CARE: This is Chapter 49 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. 

Major Rajinder Solanki (not his real name) looked after the security of the branches in the administrative office where I was posted. Most of the branches in my Region needed immediate redressal of one or the other security issue. So I decided to discuss the solutions with him personally and called him on the intercom, “Major Solanki, I want to discuss a few security issues of my branches. When may I come?”

The loud voice of Major Solanki pierced through the handset, "Security issues in your Region? Come right now. I am free."

I dropped all the work, picked up the related folders and marched to his office. I had never met him before. So, I introduced myself when I reached his office. Major Solanki was a burly fellow with his moustache twirled up. Soon, I realised he was less interested in discussing security issues and more in exploring my personal details.

”When did you join the service?" He boomed with a glint in his eyes.

"In 1971.” (What is he trying to gauge? My experience in the bank or my age?)

“Are you from Delhi Circle?” (Is he trying to explore my roots?)

“No, I am originally from Lucknow Circle.”

“Then why did you move to Delhi Circle?” (What has it got to do with the security of the branches?)

“My husband works in Delhi. So, I sought an inter-circle transfer,” I squirmed.

“Ohk! So, you are married?” (Why? Are you looking for a bride for someone?)

“Yes, of course! Shall we discuss the security issues now?” I intently looked at the clock on the wall behind him.

He ignored my statement and blurted out, “We will discuss all the official matters, but before that, we must know each other well. Is your husband also in the bank?”

“No, he is not.” Disgusted, I took a deep breath.

“Where does he work?”

“With the Government of India,” my reply was cut and dried.

“Which Department in the Government of India?” Uff…. I pursed my lips as I again took a long breath.

“Ministry of Heavy Industry.” 

“Do you have children?” (What else are you going to ask next, Major?}

“Yes, I have.” 

“How many?” (How does that matter?)

I showed two fingers without uttering a word. I was struggling with myself to maintain a polite façade. After all, I needed professional help for my branches today and also in future.

“Boys or girls?”

“Boys.”

“Both boys?”

“Yes, both boys,” my patience was wearing out.

“Lucky you! You have two big pots of gold at your disposal. Or shall I say two Hundis?”

“Sorry, Major Solanki! That is too much. My sons are neither pots of gold nor Hundis. Please!” I could not help snapping.

“Where do you belong to?” He was testing the limit of my patience.

“India.”

“You are now joking.” Taking it to be a big joke, he laughed loudly.

“No, I am serious. My father is from Uttar Pradesh, my mother was born in Madhya Pradesh and brought up in Rajasthan, and my husband is from Punjab. Who can be more Indian than me?”

Not knowing what to say, he chuckled loudly.

"Anything else you want to know about me and my family?" I asked my voice on the verge of sarcasm.

He leaned back, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips. "No, madam. Tell me now, what can I do for you?"

He was now comfortable as he was privy to all my personal details, established my identity and knew everything he wanted to learn about me and my family. I was feeling miserable all along at this unwarranted disclosure of personal information to a person I had met for the first time. But the pressing need to keep official relationships well-oiled stopped me from being rude.

His interrogation was finally over, but I had an irrepressible urge to vent my irritation. Taking a deep breath, I decided to pay him in the same coin by mirroring the just concluded dialogue.

"Major Solanki! May I also know about your background?" I could not have been more composed.

Not expecting this, he looked embarrassed and smiled awkwardly, "Oh, yes. Sure, sure!"

“Where do you belong?”

“What did your father do?”               

“What is your academic background?” 

“When did you join the army?”

“Which regiment were you in?”

“Did you ever go to the battlefield?”

“Why did you leave the army?”

“Why did you join the bank?”

“Which year did you get married?”

Uninterested in the answers, I bombarded him with the same salvo he had fired at me. With each question, I saw his discomfort growing, and I could see him squirming. Honestly, I derived sadistic pleasure from his discomfort.

And finally, I asked him, "Does your wife also work?"

Hearing this, a flicker of shock flashed on his face. "No, no, no! She is a simple, God-fearing lady." He recoiled at the very idea of his wife working.

“Oh! Do you mean to say working women are not God-fearing?" I maintained a deadpan expression on my face.

He stammered, backtracking furiously, "No, no, no! I did not mean this. I meant my wife is just…. just a simple and innocent lady."

"Aha! Do you mean working women are not innocent?" I pressed, my voice still devoid of emotion.

“No, no, of course not. It is not so. I mean... I mean they too are." Major Solanki was flustered. "I respect working women. But please tell me why you are asking so many personal questions?”

Major Solanki was happy as long as he was hurling questions but became out rightly uncomfortable when the roles reversed. In response, I only smiled. My silence was more vocal than any words.  He cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. The aggressive bluster was gone, replaced by a sheepish grin. The air crackled with unspoken apology, and we finally delved into security issues.

Later, I asked myself whether there was any need for me to do this unnecessary counter-interrogation. Perhaps not, though this was my subtle way to ensure that the personal quiz did not become a one way process before we discussed security biz of the branches!  

  (To be continued...)

*****

48. BAPTISM BY FIRE (YEAR 1989)

STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN    

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

CARE: This is Chapter 48 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. 

In the 1980s, Gurgaon was quite an isolated city. It was not part of Delhi NCR. No autos or taxis went there, and there was no direct telephone connectivity. One had to use an STD to call Delhi. The exile to Gurgaon was finally over, and I returned to Delhi Circle. 

Having spent more than six years out of Delhi, I was hopeful for a posting nearer home. But the Personnel Department crushed all my hopes. Their revised transfer policy did not recognise Gurgaon as out of Delhi anymore, and I got posted to Meerut as an Administrative Officer in a Region. 

My initial anxiety about the new place and the challenging role came down considerably when my colleagues assured me that my new boss was very supportive. They said he was thoughtful and mentored his juniors well. All this talk convinced me that it would be fun working with him. Hoping this opportunity would be a Godsend for grooming my professional skills, I proceeded to Meerut. 

My boss was out of the country on a personal visit for two weeks. When he returned, I rushed to his office to introduce myself, “Good morning, Sir! I reported here while you were away. It will be my privilege to work with you and I am.....”

My enthusiasm turned into total frustration when he stared hard at me and did not even let me finish the sentence, interrupting, "I have never met you before, and I do not know your capabilities. I only know that I do not want a woman here. This region is tough and demanding, and a woman cannot handle it. If I were here, I would not have allowed you to join at any cost, but I cannot do anything now that you have already joined. I will ensure you move out of here as soon as possible. Be ready to be relieved from here any day." 

I was shocked and deeply hurt but held back my emotions. Ignoring the humiliation and swallowing my pride, I said confidently, "Sir, I should not be saying so myself, but I am a hardworking officer. You will not be disappointed."

He dismissed me with a wave of his left hand and turned to his files.

Stung with insult in the maiden interaction with my new boss, my enthusiasm for excelling in the challenging assignment suddenly dampened. I was stuck with a daunting reality: a vast region in the notorious crime-ridden districts, heaps of backlog and a boss who believed I was unfit for the job. The challenges that came my way felt like tests designed to expose my so-called limitations. I could never go to him to seek his guidance when faced with a dicey issue, lest it should be perceived as my weakness. The pressure on me was immense. 

Fuelled by determination, I doubled my efforts. Failure was not an option; it would only validate the preconceived notions my boss and many others held. The work pressure kept me constantly on the edge. Every day was a nightmare, and every night brought visions of failure. It was a constant battle to prove my worth and to resist the INCOMPETENT WOMAN label from being tagged on me.  

I mobilised all my energies to ensure that being a woman did not portray me as an inferior officer. It would not be an exaggeration to say it was like walking barefoot on a bed of hot embers, a real baptism by fire. 

(To be continued...)

*****

47. AN AMICABLE CONFLICT RESOLUTION (YEAR 1988)

STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN

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

CARE: This is Chapter 47 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.

Divisions simmer beneath the surface of our vast nation. North and South, sometimes defined by ancestry, language, or even food, can be points of contention. Yet, within our institute, a microcosm of India, harmony prevailed. Staff and trainees hailed from every corner, united by a common purpose.

One incident, however, threatened to ignite the North-South divide. We were to host a group of American dignitaries, taking them for sightseeing around Delhi by day and treating them to a celebratory dinner in the evening.

The Principal, a seasoned officer who had spent a few years in Washington DC and was quite aware of the American palate, proposed dinner in some five-star hotel. The Vice Principal, a proud son of Tamil Nadu, vehemently disagreed.

"Five-star hotels are their everyday reality. Let them experience the taste of India. Why not treat them to South Indian cuisine for a change?" He stated emphatically.

A clash appeared inevitable as all the faculty members observed the conflict in silence. They were at their wit's end, holding back their views diplomatically and seriously observing what was being discussed by the two top men. The fiery flavours and vegetarian delicacies of the Dasaprakasa, the Vice Principal's choice, were a stark contrast to the Principal's vision.

Before tensions could flare up, the Principal came out with a solution with a smug smile. The dinner will be arranged at the Dasaprakasa, a restaurant well known for its vegetarian South Indian food, as suggested by the Vice Principal. But he would host pre-dinner drinks at his residence. The Vice Principal, a teetotaller and vegetarian, happily agreed, and the Faculty Members nodded happily, breathing a sigh of relief. Thank God they did not have to express their views openly!

That evening, the Principal's residence was transformed into a scene out of a Bollywood movie. Fairy lights twinkled, a skilled bartender concocted exotic cocktails, and a live barbecue sizzled with an array of delectable kebabs, tikkas and vegetarian delights.

The guests, captivated by the vibrant atmosphere, enjoyed the evening much beyond expectations. Our teetotaller, vegetarian Vice Principal, though constantly checking his watch, could not help but be swept up in the soothing environment.

Finally, at dinner time, the guests were escorted to the Dasaprakasa. The waft of the incense, which greeted the guests, was met with polite curiosity. But as the South Indian delicacies were served, the excitement waned. The unfamiliar spicy flavours, a stark contrast to the earlier appetizers, saw most plates of the guests with leftovers. However, the hosts happily savoured both cuisines.

For me, it was a great learning process. The Vice Principal, basking in the satisfaction of showcasing the South Indian cuisine, seemingly won the battle. But the true victory belonged to the Principal. His tactful diplomacy ensured a memorable evening, leaving the guests and the hosts happy without ruffling any feathers.

As a novice, I observed all the developments astutely and learnt a lot from the conflict and its amicable resolution. 

(To be continued....)

*****

46. THE DUELLING DUO AND THE FLYING CHICKEN (YEAR 1987)

STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN

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

CARE: This is Chapter 46 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.

Krishna Kishore and Pawan Prakash, both faculty members, were like oil and water. Their cabins were separated only by a thin wooden wall. Yet professionally, they were sworn enemies. The monthly staff meetings were the arena where they tried to rip each other apart, with smiles masking their attempts.

One day at the lunch table, fate intervened with the help of a chicken leg. Krishna Kishore, as always, was teasing Pawan Prakash for his Brown Sahib ways, his neatly knotted tie, the well-fitting coat and his perceived dislike for chapatis as it was a messy hand food. Pawan Prakash had served himself rice and chicken curry and was concentrating on dissecting a piece of chicken leg with a fork and knife. The verbal jabs of Krishna Kishore were not registering with him. 

Suddenly, with a flick of the wrist, the chicken leg on his plate did a spectacular airborne manoeuvre and launched itself from the plate of Pawan Prakash. It straightaway landed with a splat on the pristine white shirt of Krishna Kishore. Turmeric and spices, mixed with oil, made an awesome abstract design on the white background.

A flustered Krishna Kishore needed a solution and needed it fast! He rushed to the wash basin, but no amount of rubbing the stain with water helped. His lecture was in fifteen minutes, and a stained, damp shirt would not look professional.

Pawan Prakash invariably wore a coat and a tie. Guilt-stricken, he quickly brought the coat from his room and suggested that he wear it to cover the stain on his shirt. The coat was a tad oversized on Krishna Kishore, but was a good camouflage for the stain. Seeing no other option, Krishna Kishore accepted the offer, sported the coat of Pawan Prakash and marched off to his lecture, a silent testament to the reality that sometimes, the best solutions come from your sworn enemies.

Thus the unanticipated flight of the chicken from the plate, managed to end the icy rivalry between the two. And the two competitors, usually at the throat of each other, became good friends.

Who could imagine that a flying chicken could help thaw a long standing cold war?    

(To be continued...)

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45. PUSHING WOMEN'S ISSUES - AN UPHILL TASK (YEAR 1986)

STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN

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

CARE: This is Chapter 45 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. 

A training programme for women managers of PSUs and banks, conducted by the sprightly Dr Indira Parikh at IIM-Ahmedabad, was quite an eye-opener. A week of interaction with the female participants and the academic inputs brought a heightened awareness of the gender-related issues I was grappling with.

The programme was a live example of how targeted training could help women perform better in the workplace. This invaluable exposure ignited a passion to replicate this empowering experience for my female colleagues grappling alone with gender-related issues.

Riding on the wave of optimism, I pitched in the next Faculty meeting for conducting a similar training programme for women officers. My enthusiasm was shattered when it met an unexpected wall of indifference, and the proposal was dismissed ab initio.

The concept of empowerment of women in the workforce was unheard of in the 1980s and had to meet with skepticism. The prevailing attitude was that women were already a privileged lot, as they were taking home a fat second salary. "Double Engine ki gaadi" is what they called women enviously. What is so special about women? A woman does not require special training as she is not serious about her career. The chances of the training capacity going unused are high as not many would come to attend a training programme, leaving the family and children behind for a week.

Let me confess my inner feminist was hurt by this dismissive response, but it helped to fuel my determination. I became a persistent advocate, tirelessly raising the issue at every forum, highlighting the need for targeted training to address the unique challenges faced by women in the bank. I had become a broken record, playing the same old "Women Need Training" tune at every opportunity, be it in a dyad or in a forum.

One afternoon, there was a sudden flicker of hope. A faculty member who conducted the marketing programme practically burst into my office brimming with glee.

"Yay! I have convinced them to have a special programme for women! Look at this," he declared, brandishing an approved note and beaming like he had just discovered a cure for old age. My excitement fizzled faster than expected as it turned out this programme was actually a marketing programme for women branch managers. It had the same objectives, the same sessions, the same content and the same training inputs. The old wine was to be served to a new target group. I had a strong urge to pull my hair out. Was it mine or his?

This token effort left me deeply frustrated, and I tried my best to get this programme knocked off, but it was not be. Who would listen to a junior official when the approval had already been given by highly senior people? Much to my chagrin, the programme was slated in the calendar as approved.

The day of the Special Marketing Programme for Women Managers arrived. In the introductory session, the course coordinator enthusiastically announced that this was a unique programme, the first of its kind, curated especially for female participants.  In response, the women managers, a formidable bunch, had questions, actually lots of questions. Being a group of astute professionals, they quickly identified the limiting factors of the programme. They voiced their concern, questioning the rationale behind gender-segregated training and articulated the benefits of a more collaborative approach in having a mixed group.

Under the withering barrage of these eloquent participants, the poor course coordinator quickly passed on the blame to me, stating that it was all my idea. As many of the women were known to me, they surrounded me during lunchtime, asking me the rationale for propagating such a mindless concept.

As I had also felt the same way, I fanned their feelings, sharing my frustrations with them and how and why this programme was encapsulated. But they all agreed that having an exclusive programme for women officers to deal with gender-related issues was a great idea. I slyly goaded them on to give this feedback to the top management on the last day and also mention it in their feedback forms.

This resulted in a forceful dialogue between the top management and the vociferous participants during the valedictory session on the last day.

Lo and behold! The marketing programme for women itself became a catalyst for change. The collective voice of the participants, amplified by my unwavering support, resonated with the top leadership of the institute.

The next day, after perusing the Reaction Sheets, the Principal and the Vice Principal called me to design a comprehensive training programme specifically for women officers, a training programme to address the specific needs and challenges faced by women officers in the bank.

Armed with the collective feedback of women managers and a renewed sense of sisterhood, I successfully designed and launched a programme that addressed the gender-related needs of women in the bank.

The series of programmes conducted by the institute was the culmination of my tireless efforts, as they became immensely successful. Exposing nearly all the women officers of the bank to this programme and seeing them benefitting from this initiative remains a source of immense satisfaction for me even today.

Over a period, I became the conductor of this empowering orchestra. We rolled out a series of role-specific programmes, and almost every woman in the bank was exposed to these inputs. It was, without any doubt, the highlight of my training stint and my most satisfying experience in the training system.

This experience underscored the importance of perseverance and collective action in achieving positive change within the organization. The saying, "United we stand, divided we fall," was not merely a clichéd saying for me. It had become a reality.

United, we not only stood, but we also learned to raise our voices and succeed.

(To continue...)

*****