71. MYSTERIOUS RECOVERY OF STOLEN CASH (1999)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

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

CARE: This is Chapter 71 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 link given below:

https://ranjanabharij.blogspot.com/2023/06/stress-success-and-everything-in.html

One evening, the Accounts Manager came to my room to report an unfortunate incident that had taken place in the cash department of the branch. A bundle of ten-rupee notes had vanished from a cashier's cabin when he went out for a few minutes, leaving it unlocked. The Cash Officer, the joint custodian of the cash, also joined the discussion. We were all concerned, not only about the financial loss but also because this was an unprecedented occurrence during the Cash Officer's tenure. He was also worried as it led to a breach of trust among the cashiers, which had happened for the first time.  Usually, the cashiers trusted each other and left their cash cabins unlocked while moving around. But today was different, and a bundle of notes had disappeared. This was a significant loss, especially in 1998, and the cashier did not have enough funds to deposit the amount from his pocket.

For the uninitiated, let me explain that each bundle of notes has 10 packets, and each packet contains 100 currency notes. Thus, a bundle of ten rupee notes meant Rs 10,000.

The standard procedure is to report such matters to the head office immediately. But the Cash Officer pleaded fervently to delay the reporting by a day. He suspected someone in the department but could not accuse him without proof. He assured me he would get the money back within 24 hours.

The next day, the Cash Officer came to me after lunch, beaming with a surprising revelation. He had retrieved the missing bundle using an unconventional method. The way he managed it was unlike anything I had ever seen before.

That morning, the Cash Officer reached the Bank with a big red tika on his forehead. He had also brought a packet of vermillion and marigold flower petals, which he sprinkled on all the cash counters while chanting some mantra. When questioned about his actions, he explained he had consulted a renowned tantric. The tantric had assured him that whoever had stolen the money would face a divine curse on their family within 24 hours if they did not return it.

To everyone's astonishment, the ploy worked. During lunchtime, when the counters were empty, someone placed the missing bundle on the Cash Officer's table. He was relieved to have recovered the money without involving the police. By doing so, he also managed to save Bank's reputation from getting tarnished.

This incident was a reminder that even the most perplexing mysteries can sometimes be solved through unconventional methods.

(To be continued...)

*****

70. HUM HONGE KAMYAAB! (1998)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

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

CARE: This is Chapter 70 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, link given below: 
https://ranjanabharij.blogspot.com/2023/06/stress-success-and-everything-in.html

The Dehra Dun branch, a sprawling entity with four distinct business divisions, was identified to become the first fully computerised branch of Delhi Circle, a daunting task, to say the least. I was promptly assigned two weeks of institutional training to familiarise myself with the intricate processes involved in the task. With the arrival of Head Office officials and the formation of dedicated teams, the pre-computerisation phase commenced with palpable excitement.

The day of reckoning approached with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. The stakes were high; a successful data transfer without disrupting our daily operations was paramount.

The evening before embarking on this monumental task, I addressed the staff. "This is a historic moment," I emphasised. "Our Head Office has placed trust in us by choosing this branch for full computerisation. Let us show them we can." I concluded my speech with a resounding call to action, invoking the iconic slogan, "Hum honge kamyaab" (We will be successful!). In response, the staff members stood up with alacrity and chanted in a chorus, "Hum honge kamyaab!!!" The banking hall resounded with the slogan, giving me goose pimples.

On that winter night, as the clock ticked, the temperature dipped low. But the staff was ready. They were well-armed with woollen caps, mufflers and shawls. Their determination was unwavering. Endless cups of tea kept them warm. They knew that they could not rest until the task was complete. I made rounds of the branch every half hour, checking their progress. The response to my inquiries about their progress was always the same, a resolute "Hum honge kamyaab." This had become a battle cry.

Around one o'clock in the morning, my phone rang. A distressed woman's voice filled my ears. "Where is my husband? It is past midnight," she demanded. I explained the situation, sharing with her that we were all working tirelessly to complete a critical task. She was not convinced. Her words were harsh, her tone accusatory. "Should I send his bedding and cot to the bank? Let him sleep in your room," she spat before slamming the phone.

I was taken aback. Never before had anyone spoken to me so rudely. But I tried to understand the wife's concern. Her husband was spending the night at work, a decision that had clearly upset her.

As I recovered from the shock, I decided to check on the progress of the task assigned to her husband. When I approached him, he declared enthusiastically, "Not yet completed, but don't worry, Madam. Hum honge kamyaab." I urged him to call his wife and reassure her, but he waved it off. It was clear she had already given him a piece of her mind.

Thanks to the dedication and cooperation of my exceptional team in the Dehra Dun branch, we achieved our goal. The branch became the first in the Delhi circle to be fully computerised without a hiccup.

As I reflect upon that night, my heart is filled with immense pride even today for my sincere and committed team at the Dehra Dun branch, who made this daunting task a child's play.

(To be continued...)

*****

69. WHY HIS WINGS WERE CLIPPED? (1998)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

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

CARE: This is Chapter 69 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 my room, I heard a screaming female voice from the banking hall. Promptly, I came out and found a frail petite woman shouting furiously at the top of her voice at Deepak, the Fixed Deposits Assistant. The poor man looked highly embarrassed. He was apologizing to her repeatedly, but she would not relent. The Section Incharge also stood there, watching helplessly.

As the head of the branch, I approached her and tried to calm her down, but would she pay any heed to me. She was a local school teacher who had come to collect her Fixed Deposit Receipts. She enquired from the Fixed Deposits Assistant whether the receipts were ready. He smiled courteously and quipped informally, "Yes, of course, Ma'am. I am so scared of you. I wouldn't ever delay your work."  This comment enraged her, and she exploded, "What do you mean you are scared of me? Am I a witch or a demon? How dare you say such things to a customer?"

With great difficulty, I managed to cool her temper and sent her back.

I recalled meeting Deepak, the Fixed Deposits Assistant, for the first time when I had joined the branch. He was a tall young man with a polite demeanour. My predecessor had introduced him as an asset to the branch, and I soon discovered he was right. Deepak handled the Fixed Deposits desk efficiently, and his work was always impeccable. He had a positive outlook, and his colleagues admired his dedication and efficiency.

After the angry customer left, I asked Deepak to come to my room after public hours. I wanted to know what had actually enraged that customer so much as well as to understand the other side of the incident.

At 2pm sharp, Deepak was in my room. He looked embarrassed and crestfallen. Recounting how he was humiliated by that customer, Deepak became emotional and wiped tears from his eyes. He told me he had not intended to be rude to her. He respected her as an older person and a teacher.

I sensed genuineness in what he was saying. To ease his discomfort, I asked him about his background and how he came to work at the bank. He told me he had been a brilliant student and was keen to join the Indian Armed Forces, but his father had not allowed him to do so because he was their only child. Two of his classmates who had joined the Army had become Brigadiers, and he felt a sense of regret that he could not follow his dream. I asked him why he did not appear for promotion tests. I was surprised to hear that his father did not allow him because a promotion would entail a transfer and would take him, the only child, away from his parents.

His father was the Principal of a prestigious school. They owned a sprawling bungalow. Deepak was a member of the Doon Club and owned a big car. But there was nothing to look forward to in his professional life. He missed personal growth and the related satisfaction.

I was awestruck by the sacrifices the poor man had made for his family and how his father controlled his life. It was apparent Deepak had great potential and could have excelled in any career he would have chosen. But his father's fear of losing his only child held him back from moving upwards in life.

As Deepak left my office, I wondered how complex the human mind is. Was it the love and attachment of a father for his son? Was it genuine concern for his son's safety and well-being? Or was it his selfishness to be near his son in one's old age without disturbing his own existence?  And what did it say about our society where the parents felt they had the right to control their children's lives in this autocratic fashion, ignoring their personal growth and aspirations? Whatever be the reason, it was his own father who had clipped the wings of this brilliant young man.

(To be continued....)

*****

68. HR INITIATIVE GOES HIC... HIC...! (1998)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

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

CARE: This is Chapter 68 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.

It was like a scene straight out of a wacky sitcom. The clock had struck seven, and the sprawling bank premises were eerily quiet, with only a handful of officers scattered here and there concentrating on their last-minute jobs. I was getting ready to pack up and head home when I suddenly heard someone yelling incoherently. It sounded like a wild animal who had escaped from its natural habitat! Curious, I stepped out of the office room to investigate.

And there he was - the Bank Guard on duty, stumbling down the staircase like a newborn giraffe, except he wasn't cute or cuddly. He was totally sloshed! To make matters worse, he was clutching a loaded gun like it was his favourite toy. I knew I had to act fast and asked the other guards to disarm him quickly.

I learnt it was not the first time our drunkard friend had behaved this way. He had had a history of similar drama on the job. After getting him disarmed, I sent a staffer to escort him home before he turned the staircase into his personal Slip 'N Slide with indiscreet fireworks from his gun.

That evening, instead of taking disciplinary action against him for drinking while on duty, I thought of some HR intervention. Next day, I asked an officer to counsel him followed by a small talk on the harm alcoholism could have caused to him and his family. He stood there like a statue without any response or reaction, much to my chagrin. Next day, I asked a local officer to visit his house and talk to his wife to enlist her help for stopping him from excessive drinking. But boy, was I in for a surprise! 

The officer visited the Guard's house, after office hours, to talk to his wife but was shocked to find that the wife was in a worse state than the husband. He reported that the Guard could at least speak but his wife was totally drunk, dhutt as they say in Hindi. She could not even sit up or utter a word properly. In fact, getting tipsy was a family tradition passed down through generations of the hill tribe they belonged to, he further shared.

I hit my forehead with my hand. How do I implement HR measures when everyone in the family drank like a fish? Should I try to teach a fish to ride a bicycle? 

(To be continued...)

*****

67. IN SEARCH OF THE UNBORN DAUGHTER (1997)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

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

CARE: This is Chapter 67 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.

Knock, knock, knock...

I looked up as the door to my office room opened gently, and a man with a wrinkled face walked in with the help of a walking stick. Clad in an elegant tweed coat with leather patches on elbows and adorned with a golf cap, he had an air of distinction about him. As the room was large, it took him a little time to walk up to my table. I continued to look at him with patience.

Most of the visitors came to my room to complain about the indifferent service rendered by the staff. I wondered if he was another disgruntled customer with a complaint. But I noted warmth in his smile and twinkle in his small grey eyes that belied my hunch.

He introduced himself with an affectionate smile, “Good morning! I am Brigadier Arora.”

I offered him a seat, curious what had brought him to my office.

"You may probably be thinking I have come to complain about something," he said as if reading my mind. "But I have not. Your staff is wonderful. I saw your nameplate and came in to look at you."

“To look at me? But why?” I was amused.

Sometimes, customers walked into my room to see me. They would say it is the first time since 1922 that a woman was at the helm of affairs in this big branch. This ignited their imagination, and they wanted to personally see the woman who headed it. 

“I have come to meet you because your name is Ranjana,” he said with a conscious smile.

I was confused and looked at him curiously, wondering what he meant by that. He slowly continued, “You will laugh at this old man who has come to meet you because of your name. Are you amused? Do you think I have gone off my rocker?” He chuckled.

"You see, I have two sons, but I always wanted a daughter whom I wanted to name Ranjana. Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. So, I named my younger son Ranjan."

He paused, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and joy. "Do you understand now why I wanted to meet you? May I call you Ranjana instead of Mrs Bharij?”

“Yes, by all means. Brig Arora.”

An affectionate smile spread on my face also when I learnt of his unfulfilled desire.

A few days later, he came with his equally charming wife, “Meet Ranjana. I have finally found her.” He enthusiastically introduced me to his wife, eyes shining with genuine happiness. I learnt that both their sons lived in the US, while Brig Arora and his wife continued to stay alone in this beautiful city of Dehra Dun.

Over the next few months, Brigadier Arora made it a point to see me whenever he visited the branch, which he often did. He would invariably drop into my room for coffee and to chat.

                                                                  ***

A few months later, it was the annual closing of the bank, a time when the bank officials were extremely busy. Ensuring everything went well, especially when we did everything manually, was quite a challenge those days. Seeing Brig Arora walking in on a day like this was not a welcome idea, but I welcomed him with a warm smile.

“No, I will not sit today. I know you are busy, but I have come up with a request. I hope you will not say no to that,” Brig Arora said with a charismatic smile.

I squirmed for a moment. Anyone putting up a condition before making a request makes me uncomfortable, but I smiled, “Please tell me, Brigadier Arora. What can I do for you? It will be my pleasure.”

“My wife and I would be delighted if you could come home for dinner this evening,” he said, his small grey eyes dancing merrily.

“Today? But it is a weekday! Can I come over the weekend?” I suggested as I was neck-deep in work.

“No, no. We want you to come today only,” Brig Arora asserted rightfully.

I had no choice but to agree, “I may be late in the office today. I really do not know what time I will reach your house.”

“Never mind. Whatever time you can make it, even if it is midnight, we will wait for you,” Brig Arora slowly walked out of the room, balancing himself with the help of his stick.

I was left wondering why he had invited me today of all days. The long day in the bank was so tiring that, in the end, I just wanted to return home. Going for dinner and having a polite conversation was challenging. I stretched my arm to pick up the phone to call him and convey my inability to come for dinner. But on an impulse, I stopped.

After 9pm, I drove into his huge bungalow in the posh Dalanwala. The door was open, and he was talking to someone on the phone. Seeing me, he waved at me frantically to come where he stood. He was saying, “You know she has come. She has just come. Here! Speak to her.” Saying this, he thrust the handset into my hand. Not knowing who he was talking to, I looked at him. He whispered, “This is my son Ranjan from the US. It is his birthday today. You talk to him. Speak…speak.” He was so happy and excited.

As I wished Ranjan on his birthday, I told him what the Brigadier had shared about his not being born a girl. He replied promptly, “What my father has told you is 100% correct. For years, he has longed to meet a girl with this name. He is so excited that he always talks to me about his meetings with you now.”

Telephonic conversation over, I realised I was invited for dinner to celebrate the birthday of their son Ranjan.

At dinnertime, the indulgent couple insisted, much to my embarrassment, that I sit at the head of the table. When the dinner was over, Mrs Arora brought a chocolate cake she had specially baked herself, as it was a favourite of their son. They asked me to cut it on behalf of their son, Ranjan. While I blew the candles and cut the cake, the old couple clapped and cheerfully sang, "Happy birthday to you..."

When they hugged me and fed me the cake with their hands, my eyes welled up with tears.

The joy I saw on the two wrinkled faces that evening was the experience of a lifetime.

(To be continued....)

*****