Sabse Bada Rupaiyaa

Ever wondered what the greatest power on earth is?

Go ahead, take a guess.

George Bush - No.

Perhaps the trigger to American nuclear missiles – Still No.

Osama Bin Laden – hell, No!

Who else could it be? Or what else could it be?

I know it’s a tough one.

Now if you were to localize your thoughts to the India context.

Still at loss?

OK, I’ll help you look for the answer from my perspective. Bear with me for some time.

Recently I was required to furnish my birth certificate with attestations from The Municipal Corporation of Delhi, District Magistrate and The Home Ministry. Checking out the NDMC website was a child’s play as most of the URLs on the website were “Under Construction”. The city of Delhi is divided into zones which fall under jurisdiction of various NDMC offices. And interestingly there is no source of credible information regarding the zonal offices. Not knowing better, I ventured out to the nearest NDMC office and enquired the easiest way of procuring my birth certificate. The officials directed me to the NDMC Headquarter a few Kilometers away. A visit to the HQ turned fruitless as they directed me back to where I started from. Incidentally, I had to apply for my birth certificate at the same place where I started my journey. But of course, the officials there didn’t know better. Returning back to where I started, I duly filled up the request form and deposited the required fees, a mere 20 bucks. That was a piece of cake, I decided. The events that followed a few days later proved it otherwise.

I was told to return 10 days later and collect my birth certificate. I gladly obliged. On the D-Day, after a long wait in the queue, I was informed that it was not ready. I thought 10 bloody days and you can’t find one lousy birth record. Thank God, I did not speak my mind out loud or else I would have been escorted to the exit like the angry and not so young man who was standing in front of me. I was directed to Gupta jee, when I asked the cause of the delay. Finding him was not very tough. Gupta jee was a pot bellied; balding gentleman with the grace of an ageing walrus. He had many expectant people following him around with pitiable expressions that would befit street urchins that you often find begging at traffic signals. I approached him confidently while clutching on the receipt tighter than dear life. After all that was an important piece of paper, one that would help me get hold of my birth certificate.

It took me a while before I could get his kind attention. Gupta jee informed me that he did not have enough man power at his disposal to look through all the registers that could contain my birth record. The enormity of the task was highlighted by the fact that the electricity supply on the floor that stored the said registers was snapped due to construction work. When I protested feebly that it had been 10 days already, I was asked to enquire IF AT ALL the information could be retrieved, a week later! Incidentally Gupta jee handed over the certificate to a fellow who had just joined our discussion. Though there were many raised eyebrows, Gupta jee informed us that he was his neighbor and the matter was closed. I was dejected and ready to leave with a face as long as the Howrah Express. Fortunately on my way out I met Gupta jee’s neighbor who took notice of my desolate expressions. He took me to a corner and informed that I was not doing the right thing. And what was that, I probed. He told me to slip 3 notes of 100s in Gupta jee’s bottomless pocket and get the certificate within a few hours. But, you are his neighbor, I said! How can you suggest something that could land him in trouble? He corrected me with an expression cool as cucumber that he does not know Gupta jee from Adam. Sab paise ka khel hai, he said. I concealed my shock with not so subtle smile and shook my head in agreement. Thanking him profusely, I decided on the course of action. Mission “Birth certificate”, here I come.

I have a confession to make; something I am almost ashamed of.

I had never bribed anyone before!!! Rather, I had been so idiotically righteous that I ended up paying full chalaans whenever I was caught for a traffic offence. I find it hard to offer money to someone older than myself! So much for my inane habits, let’s take the story further.

I had a tough choice to make now!

Choice 1 – Leave. After all, a government official had refused to hand me my birth certificate outright for some very valid reasons.

Choice 2 – Bribe. To support it, I’ve had information from a perfect stranger. Scandalous, but it perhaps could get me closer to my goal. After a few moments of head scratching and nail biting, I realized the futility of my predicament! The choice was so obvious. I knew who I had to trust. I had to do the right thing and assert my belief in the system. I had to hear the voice of my conscience and do what was right. So I decided to go ahead with Choice 2.

Bribing Gupta jee in broad daylight was tough. But the fact that I would have to return after 7 days and repeat the same exercise all over again gave me the courage that I needed. And believe you me, once I decided, my heart beat rose faster than it would, were I pursuing a girl as HOT as Angelina Jolie. I started following Gupta jee like a secretary trying to grab his revered attention again. He had quite a fan-following I must say, as I wasn’t the only one chasing him. The large number of people seemed to have irked his ire as he retorted that the people were following him like dogs. Woof – Woof, I obediently nodded and smiled, as if I had another choice.

Gupta jee finally paid attention to my clumsy & awkward attempts and took me to the upper floor. We went into a room that had the floor covered with thick registers that seemed to be lying there since 1947. The layers of dust would have put Eureka Forbes to shame. Gupta jee kept reminding me how BIG a favor he was doing while sifting through them. After all he had to bend down and pick them up. His gestures and posture reminded me of the Japanese SUMO wrestlers. The details were finally found in one of the registers, 300 bucks swiftly moved from one hand to another and the form was filled. Now the register did not contain my name at the time of my birth, so we had another problem. Gupta jee asked me to get some legal documents to prove I am who I am. The impasse was over another 100 bucks later. After all he was kind, considerate and very reasonable in reminding me that he saved me the hassle of getting all those documents. Another 100 and I could have had myself named Brad Pitt. I decided to save that for later.

With the certificate in my hands, the battle was still half won. I had to get them attested by the DM and Home Ministry. A friend of mine introduced me to a social worker. Well, that’s exactly what he referred him as. He takes money and gets the work done quickly. A process that generally takes few weeks could be completed in a day. The social worker (name conveniently forgotten), smiled and showed me an array of guthka stained teeth, each set missing alternate tooth like a saw. Nature seemed to have played its part perfectly in enforcing Darwin’s Theory of Evolution & adaptation. There wasn’t anything sinister about his appearance except that it was difficult to speak to him face to face. I realized that after exchanging a few syllables, as he did à la Satish Shah (Main Hoon Na). The gap in his teeth was enough for tiny droplets to escape his mouth every time he spoke. Instinctively my hand found its way in front of my face Manoj Kumar ishtyle.

I am not the one to be blamed for the exaggerations. Truth is really stranger than fiction. You ought to meet these wonderful people and you’d know better.

The saw toothed gentleman was a thorough professional. He explained that rates for each attestation were fixed.

900 bucks for DM.

Another 1000 for Home Ministry.

No bills attached.

I did not prick my conscience this time as the choice was clear as a crystal. I took out a wad of 100s and handed them over to him with great difficulty. The exchange happened quickly and he finally took my birth certificate and the deal was closed. No wonder I got the duly attested certificate the very next day at the promised time.

Though I was lighter by a few thousand rupees, I had got the work done in no time.

The incident in not so distant past taught me a valuable lesson. We may live in ancient times or the most recent, village or the capital of India, may be a bumpkin or highly qualified – we all have one thing that makes our world go round and round. Call it money, bread, dough, cabbage or the moolah. The greens make our eyes go wide and our hearts skip a beat. There is no dearth of middle men and corruption in our system is endless. While I recollect what I went through in the capital, the thought of what people in small towns might have to go through makes me shudder. I keenly remember something that I heard as a child “Baba bada na bhaiya, sabse bada rupaiya”.

I choose to do what I most conveniently can, utter a few grunts and crib endlessly. I don’t have the strength or the inclination to change the system. I choose to be an escapist like zillions of my fellow countrymen.

One where Jessica Lal is shot dead in front of hundreds of people and the law takes its own course (a decade) to punish the guilty.

One where a BMW tramples people to death and the killer roams scot-free.

One where Priyadarshini Matto is raped and killed and her father continues to prove it.

The common factor amongst all these and many of not well known incidents is that the perpetrators have had what it takes to escape - Money. And why just all these high profile cases? We have leaders of our nation digesting lakhs and crores and not even burp.

So the moral of the story is that…

You know what? The story has no moral.

It’s a fact.

Plain, cold and simple.

Hum sabka sapna Money, Money, Money.