RAJASTHAN RHAPSODY (Bikaner) 2025: Day 01- Part 3

SUPER SENIORS SPARKLE AT GAJNER PALACE 

Hold on to your breath, folks! A whirlwind adventure at the magnificent Gajner Palace in Bikaner has just begun. It is only the forenoon of the first day, but so much has already happened. And let me tell you, it was nothing short of magic!

A century old tall trees guarding the natural red stone terraces

We forgot our age, ignored the high temperature of the desert and laughed like teenagers because this trip was about living it up just the way we were six decades ago!

Enjoying the swing, reliving our younger days

Day one had started with the excitement of seeing the newly renovated IGIA T1 airport, early flights, meeting new friends, and the sheer grandeur of the heritage fort. We cruised along the serene Gajner Lake, soaking in the tranquillity, before diving head-on into a royal Rajasthani feast for lunch. (Okay, maybe a little spicy, but who is complaining? Did we not have a sachet of Eno or a tablet of Digene ready in the bag?) The taste buds reigned supreme, and no one thought of the blood sugar levels rising or the anti-cholesterol medicine we were to take.

Having devoured a delicious meal, we felt that a short siesta was in order! A cosy bed in an air-conditioned room after a hearty meal was very inviting. And we sprawled in bed for, I do not know how long.

"Beep... beep... beep!" The phone jolted me awake – the evening party was getting started, and our absence was holding everybody back! Hopping out of bed, we rushed to the Dining Room, the party venue. It was Tambola time! Well.. well! I am not a Tambola pro, but the energy was infectious. We were all hollering and cheering, and those prizes vanished faster than a plate of pakoras! And speaking of snacks, the crunchies and chai were the perfect fuel for our evening escapades.

Then, the magic truly began. We gathered in the palace courtyard under a canopy of ancient trees, twinkling stars in the sky and fairy lights on the ground. 

The lights are ethnic. The charcoal in the bar-be-que is fired. The chefs are ready to cook.

The air crackled with anticipation, and the aroma of charcoal from the barbecue was inviting.

We were ready to be entertained! And wow, how we were entertained! A troupe of Rajasthani folk singers and Kalbelia dancers took the stage, and the atmosphere exploded with vibrant music and mesmerizing moves. 

The musicians are ready to entertain us with Rajasthani folk music.

That Kalbelia dancer? Forget flexibility; was she made of rubber! Bending backwards to pick up a currency note with her mouth? Jaw-dropping!

Oh my God! Is she made of rubber? Bending over backwards like a U-pin is unimaginable. 

Suddenly, many of us were on our feet, dancing like there was no tomorrow! Knee pain? Backaches? Gone! The spirit fuelled the spirit, and we were lost in the “Masti ka Aalam.” We were all young again, swept away by the rhythm and sheer joy of the moment. We, the 10 PM bedroom light switchers, danced till midnight! Midnight! 

Gajner Palace wasn’t just a place; it was an experience. It was laughter, music, dance, and the pure, unadulterated joy of being alive. It was a reminder that age is just a number and that adventure awaits at every turn! One only needs a lively company and a will to have fun.

 

The party is on, the mood is high. Life is not just good: it is excellent.

At Gajner Palace, we had a strong dose of Rajasthani magic in an old-world charm. Memories were being made every moment, and the spirit of celebration never faded!

Use of chimneys of the hurricane lanterns to create the ethnic look. 

Stay tuned for more tales from our super senior adventure in Bikaner! Until then, laugh boisterously and enjoy life with friends.

(To continue)

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RAJASTHAN RHAPSODY (Bikaner) 2025: Day 01- Part 02

GAJNER PALACE:A ROYAL REVELATION &

THE SERENE WHISPERS OF THE LAKE

With some time to spare before our aquatic escapade, we decided to explore the history of Gajner Palace, courtesy of Google’s treasure trove.

It turned out that this royal retreat initially began as a Honeymoon story! Maharaja Gaj Singh, returning from Jaisalmer after his wedding, had a halt here. His newly wedded bride requested him to make this area a pleasure garden for her. And thus, Gajner was born, complete with a lake to nourish its lush beauty. From Gajsinghpura to Gajner, the village and palace evolved, weathering destruction and rebirth, thanks to the vision of rulers like Maharaja Sardar Singh, Dungar Singh, and Ganga Singh.

The intricate carvings in red stone weaved their magic everywhere.

The lake that had parched during the devastating famine of circa 1899 was resurrected by Maharaja Ganga Singh, who deepened and widened it, ensuring its resilience. The visionary Maharaja Ganga Singh envisaged it as a hunting haven on the serene Gajner Lake. He engaged the services of Samuel Swinton Jacob, a British architect to reimagine it, and John Roberts and Company of Bombay to furnish it.

The serene Gajner Lake separating the palace from the wild-life sanctuary

 

Stepping into the shimmering waters of Gajner lake from the palace was unimaginable

Gajner Palace, a red sandstone masterpiece sprawls across a breathtaking 6,000 acres with four regal wings – Dungar Niwas, Mandir Chowk, Gulab Niwas, and Champa Niwas. Nestled amidst a thick forest of ancient Keekar trees, every stone and every tree in the palace whispers tales of the bygone era.

These stuffed animals on the walls are reminders that the palace was once a Hunting Lodge

Though initially intended as a hunting lodge, the vegetarian Maharaja Karni Singh turned a new leaf after ushering in an era of peace for the wildlife in the palace and banned hunting there.

Speaking of wildlife, the ancient trees, silent witnesses to centuries of history, provide sanctuary to a symphony of birds. Parrots, taking their morning dip in the fountain, and peacocks, dancing like royalty, added a touch of magic to the scene.

And then, the lake beckoned! We quickly donned life jackets (safety first, even on a scorching day!) before we headed towards the boat waiting for us. But stop! A vision of the radiant newlyweds, clad in traditional Rajasthani finery, caught our attention, and we stopped in our tracks. A photo op with the new bride was irresistible!

A newly wedded bride in all her fineries who had come to the temple to seek divine blessings

Finally, aboard the solar-powered boat, we glided across the tranquil waters. On one side, the majestic palace stood in all its glory; on the other, a sprawling forest whispered secrets. 

Clad in life jackets, we enjoyed boating in the calm but shimmering waters of Gajner Lake

Serenity reigned, a peaceful interlude before our promised evening of fun and games. But the oppressive heat and our rumbling stomachs had other plans. Breakfast, a distant memory, urged us towards the dining room. A Rajasthani feast awaited, complete with the legendary gatta sabzi and a tempting array of sweets, too irresistible to resist, even for the most disciplined among us.

Satiated and content, we retreated to our rooms for a well-deserved siesta, a two-hour recharge for the grand evening ahead.

The Wild life sanctuary across the lake

The majestic palace, the serene lake, and the promise of wildlife – Gajner was weaving its enchanting spell.

(To continue)

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RAJASTHAN RHAPSODY (Bikaner) 2025: Day 01- Part 01

AN UNEXPECTED BIKANER BLISS! 

A ROYAL RENDEZVOUS AT GAJNER PALACE  

( Day 01/01)

Bikaner, a jewel in the middle of the Thar Desert of Rajasthan, was not even on our radar screen. Then, BAM! An invitation landed in our laps, courtesy of hubby's best buddy, a proud alumnus of Motilal Nehru Regional Engineering College (MONERECO), Allahabad now globally known as MNNIT, Prayagraj. The mission? A reunion of the legendary 1968 batch at the regal Gajner Palace, a lakeside complex adjacent to a wildlife sanctuary in Bikaner.

We have reached our destination, the Gajner Palace.

Eighty-something-year-old gentlemen, their equally fabulous wives, and us – the unexpected guests. Initially, we hesitated, but the sheer magnetic pull of the place and the envisaged company of super-senior citizens like us was irresistible. The camaraderie? Electric. The energy? Infectious. We were hooked! Little did we know this was about to become a once-in-a-lifetime escapade for us. 

The journey itself was a mini-drama. I, a sucker for scenic train rides, envisioned Rajasthan's landscape unfolding like a vibrant tapestry outside my window. But the "Motis" (as they affectionately called themselves) had a different plan: maximum palace time! And then, a miracle! Indigo Airlines swooped in, offering a direct flight to Bikaner. Talk about serendipity! 

Artistically designed IGIA Domestic Departure Terminal T1D was better than any international airport.

Our adventure began at Delhi's IGIA Terminal T1D, a revelation! Forget those soulless international terminals; this was a masterpiece. Artistically designed, sparkling clean, and buzzing with efficiency – my chest swelled with pride. 

Bravo Delhi! You have outdone yourself!

Indigo's Delhi-Bikaner flight was more than half-full with the Motis of MONERECO, Prayagraj (UP)

Meeting the Motis was like stepping into a warm embrace. There were no awkward introductions, just instant connection. Laughter, shared stories, and the palpable joy of old friends reunited filled the air. The aircraft, filled with these vibrant souls, whisked us away in a blink.

Bikaner airport welcomed us with a gleaming, air-conditioned bus. The Motis, a charmingly diverse group, some with tales of knee surgeries and backaches, some using sticks and some even on wheelchairs boarded with a mix of humour and mutual support. A wooden stool ensured everyone climbed aboard with grace. 

This mesmerising view caught our attention as we reached Gajner Palace.

Our destination, the legendary Gajner Palace, a heritage haven and a truly royal property, was beckoning us. 

The entrance to the Gajner Palace artistically decorated in the royal ethnic way.

The grand entrance, guarded like a royal secret, opened to a scene of breathtaking beauty. 

What a beauty she is, the one who received us at the entrance.

A vision in traditional attire, a young girl greeted us with strings of beads, her smile as radiant as the desert sun.

Forget check-in lines! The organisers, the meticulous Motis had already worked their magic, assigning rooms based on friendships and proximity. Their planning prowess would put any event management company to shame!

Meanwhile, the train-loving Motis, arriving from all corners of India, gathered at the sister property, Karni Bhawan Palace at Bikaner. They will soon join us at Gajner Palace.

The daily schedule has already been chalked out. There is the call of the lake! Boating at 12:30 pm. The next chapter of our royal rendezvous is about to begin.

Stay tuned for tales of shimmering waters and sun-kissed adventures.

Loved these copper pots with plants!

(To continue...)

*****

84. THE LONELY ROAD OF CHANGE (2009)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

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

CARE: Chapter 84 is the last chapter 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.

Leading the BPR (Business Process Re-engineering) Project in the Bank was like navigating a minefield. My team and I had a dual mandate. First, we had to design innovative processes in collaboration with the Consultants. Then came the more challenging part of testing and implementing them. This meant dissecting existing systems, identifying their flaws, and crafting new solutions aligned with global best practices. Getting technical support and testing the initiatives on the ground before rolling them across the Bank was challenging. But doing all this without disruption and without inflating costs was difficult. Imagine trying to steer a behemoth with a team of just forty. Daunting does not even begin to describe it.

This initiative was under intense scrutiny, with progress closely monitored at the highest levels. During performance reviews, circle heads were grilled about implementation delays. They mounted pressure on me to massage the data, to paint a falsely optimistic picture for the Chairman. I refused. Honesty was non-negotiable. Predictably, this did not win me any popularity contests. In fact, it often made me the target of their frustration. BPR initiatives were invariably cited as the root cause of all the issues faced by the Bank, with loss of business being the topmost. BPR was invariably cited as the Blood Pressure Raiser. Accepting change is not easy, and the implementors were no exception. They made BPR the culprit for all their shortcomings. In every meeting, I faced the brickbats and withstood the criticism bravely. 

I began to question myself. Was my approach flawed? Was I clashing with the culture of the Bank? This gnawed at me until I met a veteran BPR implementer from a European bank. He had spent fifteen years on a similar project. His first question was startling: "How many friends are you left with in the Bank after five years in the project?" It was a gut punch but also a validation. He understood. He got it. He knew the isolation that comes with driving change. It was a price I seemed to be paying.

But, honestly, did it matter? My focus was sharp. I would not be swayed by their criticism. The bigger picture was always in my sight.

And now, years later, seeing those initiatives thriving, transforming the Bank into a globally competitive institution is the reward. This is what makes the challenges, the isolation, and the criticism worthwhile.

I faced the fire, and I emerged victorious. I blew away the criticism like bubbles. Today, I can hold my head high and say I worked hard. I worked with dedication. I did not cave in under the pressures. My last assignment in the Bank has become the source of my lifetime satisfaction.

The journey was challenging. The route was tough and lonely. I was left with no friends. In the end, I reached the same place where everyone arrived at the fag end of the journey. But I am proud I did what I was supposed to do. All that the Cheshire Cat had said in my dream way back in the year 1971, had come true*. 

I am happy to say I did it my way!

*****

*To read my dialogue with the Cheshire Cat, please read Chapter 8 of this Blog Book as per the link  https://ranjanabharij.blogspot.com/2023/08/8-stress-success-and-everything-in.html

 *****

83. THE CALL OF CONSCIENCE (2006)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

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

CARE: This is Chapter 83 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.

When I got posted to the Corporate Centre, I received a chorus of well-meaning yet slightly ominous advice. My well-wishers, with varying degrees of concern etched on their faces, offered a litany of "dos and don'ts" for navigating the treacherous waters of the Corporate Centre.

"At Corporate Centre," one whispered, "even the walls have ears. Be very careful what you say."

"You never know who is connected to whom," another warned. "Discretion is paramount."

"Refrain from your...er..brutal honesty," a third advised, a touch of nervousness in their voice, "especially when speaking to seniors."

The most common refrain, delivered with an almost religious fervour, was: "Never say no to the boss. Never. They do not take it well."

The day of reckoning arrived sooner than I expected. I was scheduled to present a detailed project update to the top management. My heart pounded as I walked into the imposing boardroom for the first time in my career.

The top man, a figure of absolute power and authority, zeroed in on a specific activity. "How long will this take?" he demanded.

I took a deep breath, determined to be honest. "With the current resources," I replied, "it will take at least three weeks."

His face contorted in anger. "Three weeks!?! I want it done in one!" His voice boomed across the Board Room, making me flinch.

I stood my ground, though my insides were churning. "Sir, given the constraints…"

He cut me off. "Mrs. Bharij! I am disappointed. The spark I saw in you in Chandigarh...it is gone." The words stung, a public humiliation in front of top management. My face burned, and a lump formed in my throat, but I forced it down. I would not let them see tears in my eyes.

He then turned to my senior colleague, his voice suddenly smooth. "You tell me. How long will it take?"

My senior, a master of political manoeuvring, looked smug and offered a vague assurance. "Don't worry, sir. We will get it done. Soon." No timeframe. Only empty words. And the top man beamed, completely satisfied.

The irony was that, due to high dependence on another department, nothing could be accomplished even after three months. The meeting ended, but the humiliation lingered, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

Weeks later, I accidentally found myself walking alongside the top man in the corridor. A forced pleasantry was unavoidable.

"How is your project going?" he asked.

Remembering the chorus of warnings, I swallowed my pride and manufactured a glowing report. "Extremely well, sir! I even visited a few branches incognito during my trip to Delhi yesterday and spoke with customers and staff. They are thrilled! They say it's the best thing the bank has ever done."

He beamed, his earlier anger forgotten. "Keep it up!" he said and disappeared into his office.

I had passed the test, but the lie gnawed at my conscience. For days, I seethed with self-disgust.

Finally, I reached a decision. Never again! My conscience was more important than my need for approval, no matter the price. I would rather face the consequences of my honesty than live with the weight of a lie. And I stood by this resolve till the end of my career, not bothering about the consequences I had to face.

(To continue...)

*****

82. DECODING THE CORPORATE JARGON (2005)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

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

CARE: This is Chapter 82 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.

Upon my next promotion, I was required to work alongside a reputed management consultancy company, which the Bank had engaged to re-engineer the business processes to make them at par with global standards.

Being a hard-core banker for thirty-five years and hands-on with the systems and procedures of the Bank, I knew the principles of Indian banking but nothing about the advanced methods used in other countries to enhance customer satisfaction. I had to bridge the gap between my homegrown wisdom and the global best practices as we had to work together to design and implement the drastic changes the Bank had envisioned.

Though the Consultants were there to guide us, they could not advise us without understanding our existing processes, necessitating constant dialogue between them and our team members.

As a traditional banker, I was totally unaware of the corporate jargon. I knew only the archaic official language used in the Bank, which we humorously called Bank Officialese. On the other hand, the consultants were masters of corporate jargon, spoken with a slight American accent and peppered with modern management phrases. I found their language both amusing and confusing in the beginning.

My first encounter with the consultants was a phone call.

"I wanted to skedule (schedule) a meeting with you, Ms Bharij," one of them called up and said.

Did he say skedule when he wanted to say schedule? Oh, American accent! In our Bank, we just landed up in another office without seeking a formal appointment. If we needed to check availability, it would be a curt, "I want an appointment," not this fancy scheduling a meeting.

The next day, they arrived exactly on time- five of them, all dressed immaculately in black suits and white shirts, though all had different-coloured ties. One of them carried a laptop trolley. I was mighty impressed by their punctuality, mannerism and the Men-in-Black vibe.

"Hi! How are you?" I asked their team leader as they walked in together.

"I am good. I am good. How about you, Ms Bharij?" He replied cheerfully.

Good? Opposite of Bad? But we always said, "I am fine," or "I am ok". Should I also say I am good? I pondered.

They introduced themselves, each presenting a business card, not a visiting card, mind you and that too with both hands. Ouch! So formal! So business-like! The discussions began, and I started juggling two tasks: understanding the new concepts and suggestions for implementation in the Bank and deciphering their baffling jargon. It was like learning a new language on the fly, with phrases like, "You cannot compare apples with oranges." Apparently, one cannot compare them.

When one of them suggested preparing a Laundry List, I looked askance and wondered which laundry they were referring to. Hmm... It meant a complete to-do list and had nothing to do with the pile of dirty linen I had left at home.

What did they mean by repeating a phrase like My take? Why could they not say "Your view" or "My opinion?"

And what was the meaning of ballpark figures? Did they arrive at these figures while playing baseball in the Oval Maidan on Sundays? But do they get time for that? Ok, got it! These were only estimates, which could always be dismissed if they did not work.

The same was the case with back-of-the-envelope calculations. When I heard this expression for the first time, it made me wonder whether they did not have calculators or even proper paper. Why did they have to use the back of an envelope? Hmmm... these figures were the ones they quoted as rough estimates. I asked them when they could provide accurate data. One of them assured me he would do it within a week if he could leverage his bandwidth. Eh? Do humans also have bandwidth? Earlier, I thought bandwidth pertained only to wi-fi or the Internet. I realised during the dialogue that humans also have bandwidth. Why could he not simply say time permitting?

Discussing the initiatives further, one of the consultants suggested we aim at the low-hanging fruits first. The "Apples and Oranges" statement had confused me enough earlier, and the concept of low-hanging fruits compounded it further.

The acronym TAT popped up frequently during the entire discussion. I soon learnt that it meant "Turn Around Time," a concept that became a big pain point for all operatives.

They suggested we try to create Synergy between the branches and the CPCs. Oh my God, could it not be called cooperation?   

The next confusing word was core competencies and the deliverables. Before I could get the hang of these,  there was the suggestion for mystery shopping. I wondered what shopping I was required to do? I frowned, and he clarified it was an incognito visit to a few private banks. Ok! Got it. This shopping was not about buying shoes; it was to gather information about the systems and procedures of competitor banks surreptitiously. Uh oh, it was industrial espionage!

And then there was the constant question: Are we on the same page? Which page? I looked at the document. The presentation was over. It turned out it only meant, "Do you agree?" Why could they not just say that?

By the end of the meeting, someone summarised the takeaways. Now what was that? I had heard of takeaways from a restaurant after dinner, but takeaways after the meeting?

One of the takeaways was that I should engage with the Managing Director and align him with one of the proposals. Are bosses like car wheels now that they need to be aligned? I thought we discussed the proposals in the Bank, but engaging with the boss and aligning him with our idea was the new confusing vocabulary.  

Before leaving, they asked me to keep all those issues on my radar screen. Radar screen? Was I to act like an air traffic controller now? I thought.

Decoding corporate jargon was like learning a new language. It was an enlightening experience. It took some time, but eventually, I succeeded in decoding the corporate jargon.

(To be continued...)

*****

81. THE HEADY SMELL OF POWER (2004)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

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

CARE: This is Chapter 81 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.

Grappling with hard-core defaulters, two years at RAR Branch passed in a jiffy. Profits started rolling in. Life was good. Then, bam, I got a change of position. I was moved to the position of Circle Development Officer. It was lateral movement, but they perceived it as a 'promotion'. In the new role, I was responsible for everything in the circle except the actual business. Transfers, postings, training, promotions, bills, residences, furniture, and all other resources… basically everyone's happiness or displeasure depended on my decisions.

I was amused to feel the transformation: it was nothing short of dramatic once I was saddled with the new role.

The usually indifferent Security Officer leapt forward to open the car door when my car reached the portico. My usual briefcase was now perceived as too heavy for my delicate hands. It was quickly picked up by the Messenger, who was waiting at the entrance gate. Until the previous day, I carried a much heavier briefcase myself.

At the lift, the liftman, who previously would not even look in my direction when I pressed the button, balancing my briefcase and purse, saluted me with military precision. He rushed to open the lift reserved for the exclusive use of the top triumvirate. 

I reached my new office to find a beautiful bunch of large red roses decorating my table. Soon, the office room started smelling of the sweet scent of sycophancy. Even before I settled down, a never-ending stream of departmental heads walked in to introduce themselves, along with impressive bouquets of fresh flowers. Roses, Lilies, and Orchids in myriad colours filled up my room. In my entire career, I had never been felicitated like that.

There happened to be an already scheduled dinner that evening. I was the centre of attraction, and they vied with each other to take care of me. Trying not to be rude to anyone, I overfilled my tummy with the goodies being forced on me. Finally, the dinner ended, and it was time to leave.

In the departure area of the hotel, I stood behind everyone else as in the past, waiting for my car to come. Invariably, it was the last one, trailing behind all the high and mighty in the carefully orchestrated car procession. But that evening, my car was driven in soon after the top trinity drove away. That evening, I led the parade of peer-level colleagues. The pecking order had changed overnight.

The heady aroma of power, which I had never tasted earlier, came with a vengeance. It was intoxicating. It was dangerous. I knew this game. I had seen glimpses of this played before. The constant stream of flattery and the subtle manipulations could lead to the insidious erosion of judgment. This newfound attention was a new experience. I was fully aware that this respect was for my position, not for me as a person.

Every night, I prayed for strength, humility and wisdom to resist the heady feeling of power. Every morning, I reminded myself that this is not for me. This is about them. This is for my position. It will vanish the day I move from here. It was challenging, easier said than done. I tried to remain grounded, remembering that my role was to serve the institution and the employees and to ensure fair and equitable treatment for everyone. I kept reminding myself to stay humble, focus on my responsibilities, and resist getting intoxicated by power.

The heady smell of power had to be desisted under any circumstances, for it was stealthy, subtle and treacherous and could erode my judgement.

(To continue....)

*****

80.THE TAMBOLA TRAP (2003)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

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

CARE: This is Chapter 80 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.

On that day, my desk was a battlefield of papers. Twenty thick files, each crowned with a three-page brief, glared at me. Today was the day of reckoning: a crucial videoconference with the Corporate Centre was scheduled that afternoon at 3 pm to discuss the status of non-performing assets handled by my branch. I had to revisit each summary and make notes on the margins based on the likely questions in the video conference. I wanted to have all the details at my fingertips. It was an important videoconference with the Corporate Centre, and I did not want to be caught on the wrong foot. Panic gnawed at me as I looked at the clock.  

"Fifteen minutes per note. Five hours minimum. If I work non-stop, I can finish the revision by 3pm," I muttered, calculating grimly.

I buzzed for my PS, "No interruptions. Absolutely none!"

“Yes, Madam. Will make sure,” he knew the importance of the videoconference. 

An hour later, the cell phone screen flashed Big Boss Res. The call was not from my boss but from his wife. "Hey Ranjana! What are you doing? We are having the Ladies Club meeting at my place today. Come and join in the fun!"

Her enthusiasm was infectious, but I shook my head. "Sorry, Madam. I am neck-deep with work today."

"Oh, come on! Nobody in the Bank can be that busy. You may be having a site visit due. Right? Tell your boss you are out inspecting some unit," she suggested.

I giggled at her playful suggestion, "Madam, I have a videoconference with the Corporate Centre, which is crucial."

"That is no issue. Ask someone else to attend."

"I cannot, Madam. The meeting is with the Corporate Centre."

"Hmm…Okay, okay. I understand you are actually very busy. But at least come over for lunch."

"Madam, I need to prepare. If I am unable to answer the questions in the meeting, your husband will kill me..." I trailed off, imagining his stern looks if I could not clarify the position.

"Ah! Do not worry about him. I will take care of that. I will tell him not to say anything to you. Do not act pricey now. Just come for lunch. It will take the same time as going to the lunchroom." She was in no mood to relent, but I had to. With the First Lady insisting so much, further resistance would have been too discourteous, and I caved in, albeit reluctantly.

The Bank House was nearby, and I was there at 1.30 pm sharp to find myself amidst a whirlwind of fun, colour and chatter.

“A pair of eight, eighty-eight!” The announcement went.

“Line!” someone yelled, and there was a lot of activity in that corner.

“Bogey! Bogey!! Bogey!!!” Some other women shouted, and the process was resumed.

“One and six. Number sixteen. Sweet sixteen,” a new number was announced.

About thirty fashionably dressed divas were engrossed in a lively game of Tambola. The First Lady greeted me warmly. "Thanks for coming! Here, play on my ticket while I arrange lunch."

The numbers were being announced, but my mind was elsewhere. Loan recovery, one-time settlement, implementation of SARFAESI, status in the Debt Recovery Tribunal, and the next hearing in BIFR were looming before my eyes. I felt a pang of guilt. I should have been at my desk, not here.

In ten minutes, lunch was served. The vivacious ladies wanted to play one more round of Tambola but had to get up much against their wishes. I admired their colourful silk sarees, fine jewellery, nicely done-up hairstyles and well-manicured nails; none of them was less than a diva. They discussed fashion, gossip, cookery and what their husband liked. Had I become a party pooper by coming here?

A lady with a glint in her eyes remarked, "Lucky you! Enjoying the party here while my poor husband is slogging."

She was right, but her words stung. Coming for lunch that day was no enjoyment for me; it was a forced choice. But could I share it with her? The wise say silence is golden. So I smiled and left for my office to finish the remaining preparation.

At 3pm sharp, I was in the Conference Room with the files, folders and notes, ready to face the barrage of queries. As we waited, someone from Corporate Centre conveyed that the videoconference was called off due to unforeseen exigencies.

Once I was back in my office, I wondered what dessert was served at lunch. Did the ladies play a few more rounds of Tambola? A strong feeling of loss suddenly started agitating my mind.  

(To continue....)

*****

79. DEBT, DECEPTION AND DOGS (2003)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

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

CARE: This is Chapter 79 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.

Arsh Deep Singh, a recalcitrant borrower from my RAR Branch, was a symphony of arrogance and deceit. He owed the bank a fortune but acted like a pauper, his lifestyle a brazen display of wealth.

After much chasing, we finally cornered him, and he agreed to come to the negotiation table for a compromise. Tall, handsome, and clad in a silk shirt and a designer suit, he claimed utter destitution. I could not imagine this. A man who claimed to be destitute, dressed in a shirt that probably cost more than my monthly salary, was condescendingly informing me of his dire financial strait.

"I have no money," he wailed. "I have even sold my wife's jewellery, and nothing is left for her to wear now."

I remained unfazed. "So what? Who bought all that jewellery for her? You did." I countered. "Why don't you sell off the remaining one to repay the bank." He feigned despair. His voice started choking, and he buried his face in his hands. My team members were moved by his crocodile tears. They rushed to comfort him with a glass of water. I, however, suspected a charade. It was a theatrical performance veiled in crocodile tears. But I remained unmoved. This wasn't a tragedy; it was purely a calculated drama.

I insisted on visiting his residence in Ludhiana. I wanted to see this destitute man's lifestyle firsthand. He agreed with some resistance and left. Moments later, from the window of my office room, I watched him drive away in a chauffeur-driven Porsche. A poor man indeed!

His house in Model Town was a palace. The sight that greeted us was a testament to his opulent lifestyle. A sprawling mansion, the gate guarded by two liveried sentries expressed exclusivity. We were kept waiting, a deliberate display of his power and our insignificance. Finally, we were ushered in, not to a drawing room but to a sprawling lush green lawn, where we were expected to bask in the sun on uncomfortable cane chairs.

Fifteen minutes passed. No one came. I inquired again. Then, all of a sudden, two ferocious German Shepherds were unleashed upon us. The duo came barking menacingly. This was no accident; it was a calculated intimidation tactic. This man, who claimed to be bankrupt, dared to unleash his dogs on his creditors.

My colleague, a picture of terror, nearly jumped out of his skin. I quickly told him to remain seated and take deep breaths. However, I remained calm. Having kept a big Labrador as a pet, I knew our fear would only excite the dogs.

Finally, Mr. Destitute appeared, clad in his navy blue silk robe and rubbing his eyes, still half-asleep. "Sorry, late night," he drawled. Late night? While the bank's money funded his lavish lifestyle?

His theatrics continued, but his false claims were exposed. His time was up. We seized his assets, his opulent mansion, symbolising his greed and disregard for the law. Soon, the auctioneer's hammer fell. Three crore one, three crore two... three crore three! The final call!

It was a resounding defeat for the man who thought he could outsmart the system. This was not just a debt recovery battle; it was a battle against arrogance, against those who believed they were above the law. In the end, justice, albeit belatedly, prevailed.

(To continue...)

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