It was in 1997, standing in a queue to pay the electricity bill that the itch started. That was one task which was right up there on my most hated list. Having to pay the bill in itself is a painful thing. But having to do it and suffer is worse.

The sequence of events unfolds when mom asked me to go to the GEB office and pay the electricity bill. I hated doing it. But as dad was away on posting and that left me as the man of the house and I had to pitch in with my share of domestic work. Also, it being my vacation, I had no excuse to get out of this one. So I grudgingly took the bill and the money and brought out my bicycle which was the mode of transport allotted to me and started for the task.

The GEB office was about 5 mints on the bike and I reached there well before time. The “official” time of starting work is 0900 hrs. I reached there by 0830 hrs to get ahead in the “queue”. Well, there were three people ahead of me.

I got behind the last one. I observed the other people in front of me. At the head of the line was a typical young gujarati man. He was smoking a beedi. The I looked in front of him. The Door of the cashier office was closed. He was very pleased to be at the head of the line. It made me feel that he was the bright boy of a class and that I was the dullest last bencher.

The next in line was an old man. He wore heavy specks. He had some white hair on a balding head. There was a sheaf of newspapers in a cotton hand bag slang over his shoulder. He was deep in to reading one of them.

The third man was a middle aged patel in traditional kathiawadi clothes with lathi et all. He stood there smothering his proud moustache. And that left me.

The old british mechanical clock outside the door now showed 0850. I looked at it and felt happy that there were only 10 more mints to endure. Surprisingly, there was no one else in the queue which used to be quite long at most days. I thought that this was one of my lucky days. I started planning in my head what I would do as I would be home at the most by 0930. How wrong I was! I had underestimated the Indian government servant !!

I once again let my eyes focus on the other people. The young man had a pile of beedis by his feet. He lit another one, held it be between his thumb and first finger in typical gujarati fashion and dragged on it deeply with closed eyes and blew out the smoke slowly as if it were a sacred ritual. He wore a polyester full sleeve shirt which was not tucked in and he had sandals on his feet. It appeared that his sandals were used less for walking than for stubbing out beedi butts. I had always hated smoking and hated those who didn’t hate it. But then India is the world’s largest democracy and exercising the right to smoking in public places is one of the many ways that we practice democracy. Ie, apart from spitting “paan” at any place. I looked at him with disdain but put up with it as I was not the person who easily gets involved in conflict.

The old man had graduated from “Gujarat Samachar” to “The Indian Express”.

The Patel had slowed down on his moustache massage. Now he was exercising his fingers which had grown tired from activity.

The clock now read 0915. Still silence and no one to open the door. My legs were getting quite tired from standing. I was cursing from inside. But I held control of myself. At 0920, I started to realize that this was something like “Waiting for Godot”. I realized exactly how the two tramps might have felt.

I looked at the board in front of the cashier desk which read,

Weekdays: 0900 am to 0500 pm

I was reassured that we were in the same time zone!

The old man continued reading patiently without speaking a word, only adjusting his specks from time to time.

Suddenly, there was the “word”. It was the young man. He had run out of beedis. He addressed us “ I am going to the nearby shop to get some beedis. But be reminded that this is my place and that I was here first. So don’t anyone go on trying to be smart or he will regret it.” The old man flipped a page. The patel nodded alongwith me. And “Beediman” left. It was 0930.

The patel was also getting tired and he had tried leaning on his lathi from all angles. I was surprised that he did not smoke as most of the rural kathiawadis do. But in my mind, I imagined that he wished he had a cigarette right then. God, what was I thinking. Beediman was beginning to rub off on me.

0945. Still no sign of the mysterious GEB cashier. I guess then that maybe this is how legends are made. I pictured in my mind – the legend of the GEB cashier. Suddenly I looked at the closed doorway and it scared me. What if there was no cashier. What if no one would come today? The thought spooked me. What if we would be standing here all day for nothing, What if we would be standing here for ever? I must be crazy. Somehow I wished for beedi man to be back soon to make some sense out of these happenings.

The old man looked unruffled by any of this. He just kept on reading paper after paper, unaware of anything going around him. I was beginning to envy him. How could he be so calm and collected when such injustice was being done to him and around him?

At 1015, suddenly, we saw some one other than the 4 of us come into the room. He was dressed in khaki shirt and pants and slippers. My mind was happy…joyous…He reached into his trousers and brought out a bunch of keys. My mind said…”the cashier…long live the cashier…jai hind”…I was going into a whirlpool of emotions. Nothing mattered now…all was forgiven.. I would be relieved of my suffering. my plans started forming again as if rising from a coma. I will be home soon….

The man selected a key from the bunch and opened the door. Finally the cashier desk appeared as if it was a secret being revealed. The Patel was also excited. His slump disappeared and he stood erect again. He looked at me and smiled. I also felt a new found energy rushing through me. The world looked brighter. The old man read on, not concerned at all of the happenings around him. I frowned…What sort of a man was he to not bask in this joyous moment. What was so interesting in those damned newspapers which made him forget the sole purpose for which he was here? It was so boring to be old…

I focused my attention back at the cashier room. Waiting for my hero who had disappeared behind the cashier desk and into the room to reappear. There were only beedi butts to remind me of beediman. He will be so mad for getting back late. We will be home and dry by then.

Then he appeared.. And my heart broke… He had a bucket of disinfectant water and a mop. He put the bucket on the floor and dipped his mop into it and started sloshing all over the floor humming some unknown tune. The blood drained from my face. My spirits fell. Anger and frustration rose in me. The high which I had reached was torn away from me like a rag. I started to fall into a deep misery. What a fool I was. Was all the education that I had received worth anything If I could not differ between a cashier and a floor cleaner? I tightened my teeth. The patel had a resigned look on his face. The old man read on…never looking up. I wanted to smack one right in his face for his indifference. What was the old stag taking for achieving such nonchalant ness? Tears of anger swelled in my eyes. My heart was beating fast. It was 1045.

The cleaner went on about his job. He cleared the butts left by “Beediman”, never complaining and always humming that tune of his. As he mopped closer to us, I couldn’t resist myself and asked him, “ Bhai, when will the cashier come?”
“Soon” was the reply. I protested, “But the working hours written here are from 0900 to 0500”. His face changed…he stopped mopping, looked up to me, the smile gone from his face, and snapped, “ I told you, soon…that’s all”

I controlled myself and hated for doing so. I just wanted to let go and smack the cleaner and the old man. I didn’t feel like smacking the patel though..because for one thing, he was a simpleton…and the other, he had a giant body and a lathi in that enormous hands of his to top it !! So, I guess, my education had helped me in that situation to reason and analyse the foolhardiness of a futile action.

At 1120, I got a whiff of perfume from somewhere. Looking back in the direction of the smell, I saw a short and stout old lady with a black handbag approaching us. Well, that’s all we need...another one for the queue..in which world is this lady living? Well, if it is written that she must suffer with us, then so be it..I watched her as she approached…and suddenly, she passed by me toward the front of the line…My eyes opened wide as did my mouth, in amazement. ,,what the hell…what is she thinking…she is going towards the head of the queue…the nerve…this cannot be allowed…anyhow, it is “beediman’s” reserved place. he wont allow it…who does she think she is? The blood rushed to my face as I felt a great anger…I could not allow this to happen….i decided that if no one else does, I will teach her a lesson…so what if she is a lady…

I was in for a greater shock. She did not stop by the head of the queue. Instead, she walked on past beediman’s space, climbed the single step onto the cashiers platform, removed her handbag from her sholder, placed it on the table and moved behind the desk and sat down on the cashier’s chair. The cleaner, who had disappeared while mopping behind the room, appeared and wished the lady, “kem cho kantaben?”

I looked on in amazement…I had no feeling for about 10 seconds…and then the reality rushed onto me. If the tramps had ever met godot, this is how they might have felt. Relief flowed through my body. This range of emotions could not be experienced even in a lifetime.I wanted to jump up and downwith excitement. I looked at the patel and said, “ Bhai, so that is our cashier…we will be out of here within a short time.” The patel nodded and smiled at me. The old man was still reading. Oh…blast the old man..who cares what he thinks? The cashier had arrived.

Beediman had still not arrived. So, now,the old man was at the head of the queue. If I was in his position, I would be the happiest guy in the whole world. But look at him, not a care in the world. Ie, Except for his wretched newspapers. He doesn’t get the magnitude of the situation. He doesn’t realize what an important phase it was in the life of that queue.

It was 1200 noon and kantaben was still shuffling through some papers on her desk and joking and talking with the cleaner who had found a place nearer to her destk, which he decided, needed extra cleaning. They went on and on and it was 1220. I somehow felt that if beediman was there at that moment, he would have done something about the situation. Where the hell was he when we needed him?

Then suddenly. At 1230, we heard her voice addressing us “ gentlemen, collection will begin after lunch..” saying this, she put up a board on her desk, which read, “gon for lunch”….For the love of god, I couldn’t believe it….this could not really be happening to me…it is too much even for a movie or a dream..but this was the real world….or was it???i was beginning to wonder…how can such things happen without any accountability?

The patel had had enough of this….he took of his turban and sat down right on the floor and stretched his legs….I noticed a movement from the old man which was different from flipping of newspages…in fact, he was putting down the newspaper…now this is something…my frustration was overcome by curiosity..what the hell was he going to do now? He removed his specks..he reached again into his sholder bag…oh god…no…not another newspaper…and then, surprise….what do you know? He brought out an aluminum 3 tier LUNCH BOX….i couldn’t believe…the man had come prepared with his lunch…and a water bottle !!! and all that to pay a stupid electricity bill which in the normal course of action was an activity taking not more that 2 mints…pay money, get receipt…you see…simple….and this guy had brought his lunch. He calmly opened the lunch box and separated the three tiers…and started the motions of eating a fulfilling lunch…the smell of roti and dal was making my senses crazy and reminded me cruelly that I WAS HUNGRY!!! It was MY lunchtime too…It was ….it really was….and I wasn’t forgetting my duty and running of to lunch…what was the world coming to….this cant be real…this is a bad dream and I will wake up…but the ache in my legs told me that this was real and I forgot my self and plopped down beside the Patel.

The old man finished his lunch, closed the Tiffin, box. drank water and washed his hands from the bottle in the rose bed behind us, took out a towel from his bag, dried his hands and face and sat down, rested his head back on the wall and was asleep within 5 seconds…I looked at him tired and hungry and didn’t even have the strength to wonder about him…I was feeling like Christ on the mount before crucifixion. I wanted to cry out….father, take this cup from me….

Suddenly, the alarm on the wrist watch of the old man went off and he got up and stood up, soothing out his clothes…it was 0100...at the same time, the cashier returned. She removed the board from her desk and announced that collection would begin. I got up tired and defeated. The Patel also dragged himself up and put on his turban. The old man went first, paid , got his receipt and turned back when he passed us, suddenly he smiled at us…I felt stupid…to have doubted the planning of this genius…and he left…plodding on with his bag on his shoulders….there was no sign of beediman…and then the Patel and finally, my turn came….I paid, got my receipt and started to leave…as I reached the outside gate, I looked back at the empty space which we had occupied through out our ordeal. The old clock showed 0135…there was no other person in line…I wished I would be a government servant when I got a job…what a feeling it would be…to have complete power and control…

I closed the gate behind me..kantaben was shuffling through some other papers…I got on my bike and rode on…

Lunch was ready when I reached home…I greeted mom and gave her the receipt to file…as an after thought, I asked her...”mom, why were you not worried about me, even though I am so late??” She replied, “Son, do you think I am stupid? You had gone to pay the electricity bill in a government office; it is not as though you had only gone to watch a 3 hr long Hindi movie!!” I looked at her in amazement and just nodded..

I took my lunch in my plate, sat down on the sofa and switched on the TV. I was just in time to see the end of a Bharat Bala creations ad…which showed the Indian tricolor fluttering and the words slowly dissolving from it, “MERA BHARAT MAHAN”

*** THE END ******