STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN
The Highs and Lows of A Woman’s Journey in the Corporate World
CARE: This is Chapter 53 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.
General Elections were to take place in the country. For booth management and other duties, the local administration required additional workforce. What could be easier than to requisition the services of the bank officers? The official order for election duty deployment arrived as a terse document demanding the presence of all male officers from the Bank. A now-familiar pang of exclusion settled in my mind as I scanned the list, my name and those of the other female officers conspicuously absent. For the first time in my career, I found myself a begrudging beneficiary of gender.
Upon reaching the office the day after the elections, I noticed a shaken
Dinesh Singh* after his return from
election duty. His demeanour was subdued. The boisterous laughter I was familiar with, was missing, and his ever-present smile was replaced by seriousness.
"Dinesh, your report on the election duty, please? How was it?"
Sensing his seriousness, I tried to put it lightly.
Startled at my voice, he took a long breath and stood up, avoiding eye
contact.
"It was some experience," he muttered.
“Come what may, I will never go for the election duty again.” He was
still tense, and his face was pale.
Curiosity gnawed at me. "Why? What happened? Come to my room and
tell me everything."
As he settled in the
chair in my room, I asked him reassuringly, “What happened there? Tell me
everything.”
He hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Madam, I have come
back alive, and it is a big miracle.”
He stopped for a moment and continued, “When I reached the village where
the booth was located, I was ushered to the place where the village Sarpanch
(Headman) was sitting on a charpoy (cot) along with his cronies, enjoying his
hookah. He seemingly welcomed me and said that their village is known for its
hospitality and that they take good care of their guests.
A disquieting silence descended as he paused.
"Two glasses of golden milk were shown to me. I was told one was a
traditional glass of milk with almonds, saffron and cardamom. The content of
the other..." His voice trailed off, a spark of horror crossing his face.
"The content of the other?" I prompted gently. The gravity of
the situation had started to dawn on me.
He drew a deep breath. "The other glass, I was told, contained milk with turmeric. You must be knowing it is used for healing internal injuries."
He shuddered, a flicker of fear crossing his face again. "They made
their intentions very clear, Madam. Do as they say and drink the milk with
almonds and saffron. Otherwise, face the consequences and be ready to drink the
milk with turmeric."
I was listening to his frightening experience with bated breath.
“All this while, half a dozen of his henchmen stood there wielding lathis
and staring at me.” His voice trembled with the possibilities clearly hinted at. Anyone who did not abide by their directions would be beaten up
after covering with a blanket. And when injured and crying with pain, he would
be given turmeric milk.
What he shared was scary. With each word uttered, the picture he painted
had grown more horrifying.
"The Sarpanch further warned me it is in my interest to sit in a corner when voting is being done and keep my eyes and ears shut while they do whatever they
do."
“Uff! It must be horrible,” I was shocked.
“The next day, despite these threats, I tried to take charge of the
situation but was frozen with fear when they started shooting with desi kattas.
I got scared for my life when a bullet whizz-passed a few inches from my ear. I
have never felt so helpless in my life in the discharge of my duties. It was
the first time in my life, Madam, I could not perform my duty diligently. I am feeling miserable.”
As he finished, his voice was hoarse with emotion. He took out a
handkerchief and wiped his eyes.
The air in my office room was heavy with tension. This was not just about
a missed duty; it was a chilling glimpse into the underbelly of the hinterland,
a disturbing reminder of the dirty power dynamics at play in remote regions.
*name changed to protect his identity
4 comments:
Thank God, I was never drafted for election duty. But what Ranjana has narrated through Dinesh Singh' s words is truth n absolute truth. Rural hinterland was like that only.... Vijay Gupta
Crafted so Well...The Village, the Sarpanch and the banker, all realistic and authentic. Characters come alive...Shashi Sharma
Very scary and threatening. This is how elections got conducted before arrival of EVMs. Things have improved a lot but understand that similar things continue to happen in certain parts of the country where even posting of central forces, on the orders of High Court also does not help as voters are threatened that CAPF will leave after a few days and then......
Could be one of the reasons why political parties, especially the regional parties, want to go back to the days of ballot paper.....Krishna Mohan Trivedi
The story provides a compelling and chilling look into the dark underbelly of election duty in rural India. The author, a female bank officer, experiences the stark gender dynamics at play when she is excluded from election duties while her male colleagues are forced to face the dangerous realities of rural politics.
Dinesh Singh’s recount of his harrowing experience is both gripping and disturbing. The portrayal of the village Sarpanch and his menacing entourage paints a vivid picture of the threats and coercion faced by election officials. The choice between two glasses of milk, one symbolizing compliance and the other punishment, serves as a powerful metaphor for the impossible choices imposed by those in power.
The story effectively captures the fear and helplessness experienced by Dinesh, the shaken man who returns from the election duty. The narrative tension builds as Dinesh describes the threats and violence, culminating in his near-death experience with a stray bullet.
The author skillfully conveys the emotional weight of Dinesh’s ordeal of such encounters for the integrity of the democratic process.
Overall, the story is a powerful commentary on the challenges and dangers of election duty in remote areas, shedding light on the corruption and coercion that can undermine democratic practices.
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