The babudom and apathy of a government office are like absurd drama, realises Soumya, a government officer, post-retirement. Could he get his landline disconnected? Find out in an exclusive for Different Truths.

तेरे इश्क ने सरकारी दफ्तर बना दिया दिल को

ना कोई काम करता है, ना कोई बात सुनता है…

Your love has made my heart a government official; it neither does anything nor listens to anyone.

I was reminded of this couplet on my recent visit to a government office as an ordinary service-seeking citizen.

Being in the government sector myself and having many friends and relatives in senior government positions, all dealings with officialdom have happened smoothly. My secretary handled these mainly, with my involvement limited to having tea with the top guys. At the same time, my signature was obtained and walking out with thanks.

Post-retirement, too, in dealings with the RTO, banks, and the municipality continued to be on these lines.

But recently, I wanted to surrender my defunct landline connection, which hasn’t been working for ages and which we never needed, except as proof of residence in my hometown, while we moved around the country.

On retirement, I moved to my permanent address and have had my passport, PAN, Aadhar card, RC, and bank accounts all transferred to my permanent address, and I thought about saving the monthly rental on the phone.

Being a minor matter and the office being close by, I walked down one morning and thought I’d come to the wrong place as the door appeared locked and the place was deserted.

However, the door opened upon being pushed, and I found a gentleman engrossed in his phone.

After repeated requests and queries to which he appeared deaf, he replied without looking up that I should stand in front of counter four.

But you are the only person here.

There’s an officer in the cabin. And that I should complain to him.

I knocked and entered the cabin, where a lady was engrossed in her phone.

She politely responded to my query and advised me to wait until the lady who managed counter four turned up, as she was marked present. She also asked someone to check whether she was somewhere nearby.

A colleague probably called her, and the lady turned up but insisted that she would give me the information at her counter.

There she told me that whatever I had learned from their website was incorrect, and I had to fill out a different form and provide a pan card, the only document I wasn’t carrying. The Aadhar card and passport wouldn’t do. I also had to take a copy of the last bill.

I have been paying online through direct payments from the bank for many years, and the website didn’t permit printouts.

They said this wasn’t their problem and that I should switch to paying the bills and come back with a bill manually.

I pointed out that they could verify from the website that I have no dues, but they insisted that they follow the manual.

They also said that the crossed cheque is not required as a refund of the deposit is another department, and the process could be told when that employee turns up.

I said I wanted to donate the deposit to their picnic fund and was directed back to the officer.

The officer appeared embarrassed, showed me a circular giving the required documents, and admitted that finding the old receipts and papers might not be possible. And that I could provide an affidavit notarised on stamp paper that these documents are lost. We should accept the information available online. She would waive the requirements then. But I had to give the documents at the relevant counter between 11 am and 1 pm when it was most likely to find the staff.

I pointed out that I was here at the golden hour, but no one seemed to be around.

She was even more embarrassed and said that we couldn’t predict their presence in advance and that we must try our luck as online applications are still unavailable.

She kindly suggested that I send someone or appoint an agent and needn’t come myself as it is likely to be a long and tedious process.

I decided to retain the phone and keep paying the rentals.

Picture design by Anumita Roy

Soumya Mukherjee

Soumya Mukherjee is an alumnus of St Stephens College and Delhi School of Economics. He earns his daily bread by working for a PSU Insurance company, and lectures for peanuts. His other passions, family, friends, films, travel, food, trekking, wildlife, music, theater, and occasionally, writing. He has been published in many national newspapers of repute. He has published his first novel, Memories, a novella, hopefully, the first of his many books. He blogs as well.

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