The sadness of rags to riches

The following story is fictional, written in the spirit of ‘to whom it may concern’, where the intended reader can opt out at any stage. The young lads were basically not interested in studies, were restless and took life in stride. In the sweltering heat, they would cool off in the village chappar (pond) alongside cattle or in polluted canals and other water courses. Only a few had access to the luxury of a swimming pool. Most had not seen squash courts, tennis courts, golf courses, swimming pools…not to mention polo ponies or seen the game ever.

With starry-eyed ambition, they jumped at the prospects of a pensionable, stable government job with respect, perks and privileges in tow…in one of the most influential organisations in their country. Many talismans and prayers later, and after intense competition, they landed up inside an organisation with one of the best facilities, grooming and mentoring that money could buy, or their poor country could afford. Most ate English breakfast and saw English commode for the first time, and rubbed shoulders with scions of landed gentry, senior bureaucracy and industrialists, etc. They formed lasting friendships which would help them throughout their lives. Interestingly, they landed with only a black trunk and left only with it, after some years in the serene environs of their alma mater.

After this phase, on-job training started with a ubiquitous servant and hordes of others to lend a helping hand, whenever the going got tough. Most married their urban/rural love, or an urban beau or in a well-placed family. Their parent organisation welcomed their spouses with unseen affection, camaraderie and provided them the best ‘possible’ home to raise their family in the security of neat and clean residential complexes, self-sufficient with all amenities at affordable prices. The organisational platform enabled them and their kids to benefit from the best education in the best schools, top-class Medicare in the country’s best hospitals and top-notch sports facilities, while their extended families still went to low-quality government schools and hospitals. And while their kids were riding horses and attending swimming galas, their cousins still swam in chappar.

Most also benefited their extended families using their positions, influence and organisation-enabled connections. The medical facilities, in particular, were optimally utilised by their parents, their servants and even friends and relatives. Most went abroad to attend courses or to continue working in their country’s missions and other international organisations, getting an exposure that most only dreamt of. Foreign assignments improved their financial standing, and some decided to send their kids for education abroad, opening further vista and venues…thanks to the parent organisation.

Most of them did all that was asked of them…financially, organisationally, and morally in the most dutiful manner. Conscience, morality and a stand for the right were blended with nationalism and patriotism. The parent organisation continued to offer promotions, enhancement in perks and privileges… sometimes without commensurate responsibility. All that came their way in terms of benefits was gobbled up. They just did their job in black and white terms, just like most in similar organisations all over the world. And understandably so, as the mandate and job description of their parent organisation had no scope for the irrelevant distractions of many shades of grey.

Most were unable to describe or not interested in amorphous notions like democracy, rule of law, plurality, etc as their knowledge pool was restricted to the Reader’s Digest, Newsweek and Time magazines, and occasionally…skinny books, as book-reviews were demanded by superiors. Sometimes they read books under compulsion during professional courses, where they greatly benefited from old notes left by colleagues. Obviously, there were exceptions.

A happy, full-filling career ended up with retirement, and as a universal rule, most of these fellows with only the black trunk, ended up far above in position and appointment than their abilities, and more affluent than their extended families. But wait…the story does not end. Most fellas were again accommodated by the parent organisation in plush jobs in associated/related organisations, inland and abroad…with more benefits. Even those who could not be accommodated found their employment potential far above expectations in the job market, thanks to their association with the parent organisation and the prefixes to their names. Their life-long association with the parent organisation continued to benefit their kids in education, job hunting, and matrimony.

Meanwhile, the parent organisation not only provided them with a piece of land at amenity rates, but also helped them construct a house or pay for a constructed houses inside secure, plush and clean gated communities at the cities of their choice, all over the country. It is a truism that the parent organisation financed all such ventures through its own legal resources and through these fellows’ contributions. Because the parent organisation’s ethos is ‘from cradle to the grave and beyond’.

Then finally, like all good things come to an end, they ‘absolutely’ retired. And suddenly they found that their parent organisation had nothing good in it, had nothing good about it, and was not doing anything good. With dwindling relevance, advanced age and from the comfort of their plush drawing rooms, decorated with memorabilia collected while in the parent organisation, these born-again democrats discovered that they were duped, led astray and misguided by the parent organisation. And that the parent organisation was responsible for all the ills, misfortunes and tragedies during 75 years of the country’s history...ironically when they were also shamelessly part of the system. And that the parent organisation was always on the wrong side of history

So, without surrendering any benefit, perks and privileges accumulated and acquired while in the job, these fellows started criticising everything that was associated with their parent organisation and their country’s system…discreetly, on the social media and openly. Unable to keep their perspectives right…when the sandy winds were howling… due to intellectual fragility, aggravated by age-induced senile boredom and loss of relevance, they became willing tools of hostile propaganda. Rather than find a productive purpose in the leftover years, most of these fellas fell in the negativity of storms generated in their teacup…losing friends, colleagues and pals…when they needed them most…because of their bitterly held polarising and damaging views in support of this or that party or leader.

And so, the discontent of youth, and the curse of black trunk, sadly continued in advanced years.

Published in The Express Tribune, February 22^nd, 2024.

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