It took a beggar to convince me that status consciousness is not confined to the high and the mighty. I was sipping tea at a roadside stall in Delhi when the stall-owner called out to a mendicant standing at some distance, “Why aren’t you coming here nowadays?” The response: “Baoji, I’ve been going elsewhere. You see, if I were to beg in the same place every day, what izzat will I have!”
Consider this, from a slightly higher plane. In 1974, when I was still in college, I had the privilege of being allowed to stroll in Rashtrapathi Bhavan’s Mughal Gardens. I walked up to a mali painstakingly priming some plants and asked, “Under how many Presidents have you worked?” He drew himself to his full height and informed me: “Look here, I’ve worked with four presidents.” Obviously, he considered the First Citizens his colleagues. This was a lesson in dignity of labour and pride in one’s work.
In the bureaucracy, obsession with one’s status can reach dizzy heights, as reflected in matters like seating arrangements in meetings, the fleet of staff cars and the number of office boys at one’s disposal.
Experience tells me that the persons most conscious of their status are those newly elevated as officers. One can discern a change in the way of dressing (neckties even in sweltering heat), gait and, yes, in their new-found love for English.
Unfortunately, it can lead to hilarious situations. A youngster hosted a party in the office to celebrate his marriage. His newly promoted Section Officer felt this was the right occasion to say something wise. He said: “Mr. Gupta, we look forward to many such treats from you in the future.” The youngster responded with gusto: “Sir, how many times should I get married?”
That Section Officer decided to say something good about a subordinate, but ended up with: “Sir, he works hardly and even sleeps in the office.” Evidently, what he wanted to convey was that the person was a dedicated worker who would stay on overnight in office when there were deadlines to be met.
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