The Churning of Ocean of Life V th part - The biggest ladder and the largest snake

CHAPTER 6

In this part I am attempting a new methodology. I am translating the blog simultaneously to make it more readable. English first and Telugu to follow.

 

#Experience is a wonderful phenomenon. It can be a refuge; it can be refused. It can be an excuse; it can always be reused.

“Being famous does not make you an intellectual by default, and not being famous does not make you stupid by default.”

Nikhil D

@vanichandra2010 I read your blog, Sir. Will there be an answer to the question, “How can we counter this so that youthful arrogance may not make one oblivious?”

 

@vanichandra2010 One which I think is always respecting elders and not dismissing elders' advice.

An erudite scholar tweeted thus. He read all the parts of my blogs totally. There is criticism/advice in this, a question mark on my life, advice and two rules to lead a happy life. That is why I treated him as erudite.

These questions will be answered in future parts . I will explain it to the end of the story. @nikhil D is his name. I bow to him. I bow in respect, though he is young.

 

A runaway officer advised me thus.

@vanichandra210 These problems are common in banking jobs. But, in my view, some of what you did could not be acceptable. I was also a bank manager who took VRS."

( It seems his knowledge of banking is limited to debits and credits, and he does not have knowledge either subject-wise or managing people. I am no authority to comment on his wisdom, but I had a duty to show him in a mirror)

This is what a voluntarily retired Bank Branch Manager tweeted to me. I thank him very much for the comment. But I never supported my actions in the fourth part. I only said that for the first eight transactions, there were specific reasons. And I was ashamed and am not guilty of the last two transactions. I also mentioned not to judge until they went through the whole story. If I wanted to support my own actions, I could have come out like a polished gem if only I had surrendered my self-respect, and I cleaned the shoes of the Trade Union leaders or the executives, many of whom had great regard for me. I, too would have retired happily. I would not have needed to quit my job voluntarily. That was not my character nor spirit. 


In the first part itself, I mentioned that there is a very thin line between honesty and dishonesty and between the good, the bad and the ugly.  People this side of the line are considered good/honest, and on the other side are bad/dishonest. If that were true, Bheeshma, Drona, Kripa, Aswathaama and Karna should be considered bad. Dharma is the same for all Yugas.

 

If he gives a clean chit to all those who have retired from his bank, who were spotless and never committed any fraud (I did not commit fraud), I can quote at least ten such names who amassed wealth by dubious means and their illegally acquired assets. After I told them what I did was not correct and was told again what I did was wrong, it did not carry meaning. That means he did not read it fully. Just like his job, he voluntarily withdrew from reading. 

Why do people opt for voluntary retirement?

1. Being unable to update their knowledge and technological skills with changing times and being unable to compete with young blood.

2. Being unable to bear pressure from higher-ups.

3. Being unable to control the staff working under them.

4. With an intention to join another institution, while enjoying full retirement benefits in the bank too. (By keeping both in the dark and committing a double crime). Soon, I will quote one such case in our family.

5. Due to ill health.

There is a story about Khadga Tikkana, who ran away from the battlefield. While arranging for his bath, his wife keeps oil, turmeric powder, and bath powder used by ladies in those days. Thus, she sends a message to him that his escape from the battlefield represented the female nature in him, timidity. What is the difference between those who took VRS and ran away, enjoying full pension benefits and this timid warrior?

Except for the fifth reason, ill-health, all others can be regarded as "corrupt acts" if the word is literally understood. Even incapacity to work under pressure is corruption of a sort. (Because they enjoy taxpayers' money without working) When our officers' union was fighting with management, for voluntary retirement, I wrote a column in a business magazine on this issue. To this, one reputed leader of the union from Kanpur meekly replied, "Because he lost his job, he is resorting to mudslinging. He dodged my questions. This is the kind of sermon we have to hear in the world of fakery. Nothing wrong with one person claiming he is good. God bless his goodness. If I wanted to say that I am highly moralistic, I would not have written this. Hope this fact is well understood.

I think the prologue is, in itself, lengthy. After you read my entire story, please express your views without hesitation. I will clarify. Do not abuse me.

 

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Now, we shall go back to the main story. " Just like the precious pearl is hidden deep under the waters of the ocean, pleasure remains hidden under deep sorrow. Nothing comes on its own your way. You have to search and find it" said one poet. In the journey of my life, need for this song arose many a time. I fell. I rose like a phoenix. I again fell. I again raised. I searched. I found the pearl of happiness. I opposed orthodoxy, I opposed caste and region-based favouritism, I opposed regional disparities, I opposed revenge politics in service, and I opposed fraud by truant executives. I made people stutter when talking to me. That became a curse for me. Backstabbing increased. Now, I have a CC camera in my back too. I review my daily activity. I talk to my wife without any mala fide. How happy am I now in life? 

 

Let us go back in time. In the last year of college life, there are not many important incidents. The separate Andhra movement, due to its impact the postponement of examinations, me and a few going into the examination hall defying the agitation, lot of disturbances outside, cancellation of examinations and sending us out, police firing in our town, till the minute police ordered "fire" me and friends staying there only, then running for our lives, bullet sounds behind our backs, 24 deaths, lot of commotion near government hospital, police firing in Vijayawada simultaneously, death of one minister due to heart attack, sudden drop in agitations, compromises politically! How many incidents in four or five months? Studies suffered a lot. Examinations were held in August. The results got delayed.

 

But, during the final year of my degree, another chance came in my life. LIC of India, Hyderabad Division, announced recruitment for 150 clerical vacancies, all in the Telangana Districts, including Hyderabad. Me and our third brother applied. We got call letters. My examinations were not complete as agitation was going on a small scale. My brother graduated in April 1972 and was waiting for a break. Both of us went to Hyderabad.  We stayed in my elder brother's home and slept in my uncle’s home at night. I cannot recall how it happened, we thought the examination was at 10 AM, as usually, all tests start at 10.00 AM. We started from home leisurely. The examination was in Grammar or All Saints' High School in the Abids area. There were an estimated 10,000 candidates for the examination. By the time we went, the area was unmanned. Then we saw call letters. It was at 9 AM. We ran, ran and ran. By the time I searched the room and went there, it was 9.28 AM. The invigilator was very angry. "Another 2 minutes (not Maggie), I would have been forced to refuse entry", he shouted. I do not know what happened in my brother's case. He was in the other room. The invigilator gave me the answer paper. I was breathing heavily. I was sweating profusely. I remembered my parents, who were waiting for both of us to succeed. For once, the land under my feet crumbled. But I never gave up so easily. Giving up was never in my blood.

After a few minutes, the invigilator gave me a glass of water and handed me the question paper. He pacified me and told me;" Now, both of us know you cannot pass the test. You lost more than half an hour. Rest for 15 minutes and then start writing. In the meantime, fill in the required information on the answer sheet and go through the question paper and decide which question you can answer better.” I rested and started after 10 minutes. I used to write with extreme speed. That was my special skill then, and it is now. In my second-year English examination, I wrote forty two full-script papers ,in the three hours allocated.  I increased my speed and completed the whole paper in time. While handing over the paper, the invigilator asked, "Did you complete the paper?" I said that I not only completed but also answered all questions correctly.  Afternoon it was a mathematics test. I answered all the questions, but two answers were wrong. 

We returned home. When we told our father about what had happened, he got totally depressed. I told him confidently that I would pass. "He is just boasting. How can he pass when he started it 45 minutes late?" my third brother mocked me. Others joined. My parents supported me. They told them that I had the capacity. It gave rise to more jealousy. Now, even after I suffered so much in life, his jealousy did not come down. Looking back, I feel that he would want me to beg on the streets because I was a little more intelligent than he. I think some people do not change, nor do they wish to change. He is such a one. I passed the examination. He failed. My self-confidence remains the same. And it will not go until I die. When I want to say something, I say it without mincing words. I hope you observed. In the future, you will observe too.

Then the unexpected happened. The written test was held in April 1973. May passed, June passed, July passed, August passed, September passed, and October passed. But I did not get an interview letter from the LIC of India.  As the separate Andhra agitation subsided after some political compromises, final-year examinations were held. In August, results were declared. I got good marks but could not score as much as I expected due to the internal and external disturbances. I became a laughing stock in my own house. Brothers and sisters were equally mocking me for being an egotist. My father did not lose hope. He was awaiting a miracle. After the results were out and I did not get an interview call, I asked my father if I could pursue my favourite subject, English, in post-graduation. He was skeptical. Post graduation subject was taught in Vizag and Guntur only those days. He said it would be beyond the means of the family to bear the hostel expenses. I convinced him that I would travel daily to Guntur and carry food. Reluctantly he agreed.

With the backing of a scholarship, I got admitted to the MA (English) course at the PG Centre, Nallapadu, near Guntur. I funnily got this seat. That year, Andhra University decided to allot MA (English) seats only to BA (English) students, as many B.Sc., and B.Com. Students were leaving in the middle, after getting jobs. Initially, I was not given admission. I met the principal and showed him my marks. I passionately told him that English literature was the dream of my life. I  requested him to consider a seat for me. He said he would seek permission from the University Authorities, and true to his word, he got the go-ahead.  I got a special sanction from Andhra University for admission. I shuttled by train for two months. All the time, I was still hoping I would get an interview call.

 

And finally, the miracle happened. In the first week of November, 1973, I got a call to attend an interview in Hyderabad. My father was exuberant. But an interview is not an assurance of a job. My third brother wholeheartedly wished I should fail in the interview and said so. “Who will give him a job? There must be many others who are cleverer than him. He can not speak a word of English. ( I was very fluent in English by then, after I had joined ABVP and Rotaract Club. He also mocked my slender physique and my hunchback.)

 

The interview was scheduled for the 15^th of November, 1973, in the Divisional Office, Hyderabad. This time, envy did not accompany me.  

There were three in the panel of interviewers.  The Personnel Manager was one of them. He was a very nice officer. Later, I came to know. The same story as in BOI is repeated. After I wished them, they were surprised to see my physique. " You want a job? You look like a schoolboy. You got good scores. Even your written test marks are among the top. Why don't you study further and get a better job?" The same refrain. From me, the same answer.

“We are very poor, Sir. If I get a job we can come out of a very difficult situation, Sir” My courage and conviction were strong. I told the truth. A truth for which there was no response from them.

The questions started flowing with speed. I answered all correctly without even winking. Final question: "What is your main hobby?" Personnel Manager asked.

“Reading books, Sir.’

“All” I said.

If we see your marks lists, I feel you do not have time to read class books. How can you read general books? OK. What was the last fiction book you read and who is the hero in that?"

“Razor’s Edge?”

“What is about and who wrote it?”

“Rudyard Clipping Sir” and I went on telling the story.

Personal Manager asked “ With whom do you sleep, mother or father?

“I did not get your point, Sir”

“You are so young and looking like a boy. I was just thinking” he said.

Then the Personal Manager became serious. “You may be thinking you will get posted in Hyderabad city. Only top scorers in the written test will get that chance. You might be posted to Karimnagar, Warangal, Adilabad, Nizamabad etc., where naxalism is on the rise. By the way, did you ever live away from your parents? “

I said, “No, Sir”

“But if we post you away from Hyderabad, I fear you will be afraid and resign the job. Another candidate loses his chance.”

“My father is a retired doctor, Sir. He is in private practice in our town. I will bring my family with me, look after my siblings and my father can do private practice in my place of posting.” I was emotionally saying. What a distressful condition drove me to blabber like that, only I knew. I always had my father’s plight in mind. “I will make him King Like again “What an impossible dream? I was telling this to the very people who could shatter my dream if they wanted. From Prince to pauper, my life taught me one lesson, Come what may, fight your way forward.

“So, you decided we gave you the job”, said another interviewer.

The Personal Manager laughed, “Peculiar”, he said.

My speed increased. “Yes, Sir. I will get this job. If I do not get this job, no one else will get it” I said, and my heart started pounding. “What did I say? I may be confident, but I should not be arrogant. I decided the job slipped out of hand.

The three exchanged their notes. The personal Manager said “ During my entire career, I never saw a boy so confidently giving himself a job. I am sure you will bring laurels to LIC. We should not declare the result. But, I am deviating from the rule. We gave you the job and you would be posted to Hyderabad. Your father must be very proud of you. Prepare him to start practice here. Good Luck, my boy. You are of your kind.”

Surprisingly, all three officers stood up and shook my hand affectionately. I saw my uncle in each of them. I got the job. But my father could not relish the moment for more than a week.

( I was told that out of ten thousand job aspirants, three hundred top scorers were called for an interview. Later, I became a proud father when my daughter got selected for an IT job in the second-best company. She was the only one among more than ten thousand applicants, passed through ten layers from 10 in the morning till 10 at night, and she was offered the best package. And note, she was the only one selected).

I came back and told my father that I was told I was selected. "He is boasting. How can any one reveal that they will give appointment in the interview itself? We shall see when he gets. Our third and fifth brother mocked me. "OK. Forget and concentrate on your degree" my father advised.

“

I continued attending the classes in M.A. in Guntur as usual. I did not get a job offer letter in November.  

Sometimes, our thoughtless and arrogant acts land us in trouble. The biggest blow in my life was not any external factor, though contributions from external sources were not to be underestimated; the main reason for my steep fall was my own thoughtless actions and my arrogance.

The first such incident happened on 2^nd December 1973. My friend, Aramandla , was doing his articles for CA in Guntur then. I asked him to come to Guntur Railway Station to purchase a season ticket to and from Tenali and Guntur. There was a lengthy queue at the season ticket counter. Normally, it should not have been. When the clerk came to the counter, we peeped through the side and told our purpose. He said he was allotted the counter for the Guntur Repalle train as the concerned clerk was on leave, and he asked us to wait till the crowd was dispersed. We approached him after the crowd thinned. He said it was five o’clock, his time was over and still he was left with the reconciliation work.

“What does a mild and studious student do in such circumstances? He would have walked away silently and come back next day. What did I do ? I questioned his propriety of asking us to wait when he knew he was going to be engaged till 5.00 pm. So logic and propriety demanded that he should spend fifteen minutes more ans issue my season ticket.  He flatly refused. I persisted. He closed the ticket window. I went on demanding from the above till his patience exhausted. Finally he said, “Do what the hell you want to do”. That was enough. I purchased two platform tickets and went to the Station Master’s office. He was roaming on t washe platform. A six foot tall man and a heavyweight champion, he looking grave. I approached him and said I wanted to make a written complaint. He was first amused to see my tiny figure, my poor man;s dress, my flow of language and my determination. He was very cool . an opposite of what he looked like. He asked, “What is the matter?” I explained. Suddenly his face turned into a fire ball. “ Did he refuse? How dare he subject students to such insult. Does he think he receives salary to insult students? “ he went on talking and walking towards the counter. Looking at him the clerk started shivering. The SM said “I am standing here. Issue the season ticket to this boy. Do you know that this little fellow is a University rank holder and pursuing M.A. in English literature? Now, come on!” And pat the books opened, the season ticket was written , original was given to me “ I thanked the Station Master and he said I liked your guts and your determination. Your parents are blessed. Good Luck. Never look back. Achieve what you want, little fellow!” he patted me and sent me out of the exit.

 

 

I spent Rs.43/- at a time of great financial difficulties. I told my father about my adventure. He felt happy that I had outgrown my age.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

3rd December the college was not open, so I stayed back home. Our beloved Post Man, Anada Rao shouted post and threw an ordinary letter from LIC of India in my name. " If I was rejected only they would inform by ordinary post. Appointment orders usually come by Registered Post" My hands shivered while opening the cover. My parents were taking lunch in the kitchen. When I opened, my surprise knew no bounds. " I got a job!" I shouted and danced. My father never used to express emotions. "OK, OK. Don't get excited. Pray God! I knew you would get it"  he said. My salary was Rs.322.50, a salary that state government employees used to draw after a decade or two of service. I immediately took the cycle and told my parents, I would inform parents of Venkateswara Rao. I was there in minutes. She wiped her tears. She was crying out of joy. She removed the bad omens by doing some ritual. She gave sugar and sweet. " Be cool! Help your parents." she again cried. This wife of a Choudary was my second mother. Yashodamma. "Mother! wherever you are your blessings that made me a tough man to withstand ups and downs in life and brought me here. I pray you would be in the Heaven. Might be I will be in the other place" Back home, my sisters, who were my two eyes, asked me. "What will you do with first salary?". Pat came the reply. "I will buy all kinds of available mangoes in India and feed you both, so that neighbors cry.( The background is our house owners used to get baskets of mangoes and were mocking our poverty. My sisters used to always cry for mangoes. But now, my two eyes lost sight. Left eye got hole in retina, right one suffered Bells' Palsy. So too my sisters. They made two big gaping holes in my life.( In later parts) I too was too young and tender in age! I cried copiously that day in front of them. They forgot. I never. Am I too emotional?  

I should join on 10th December, 1973. I think on 8th December, it was my second brother's marriage. I had new clothes, as I purchased two pairs in my last scholarship amount. I also bought two polyester shirts for my father. In his life, it was the first time he got polyester shirts. I still remember him proudly walking on the streets of our town, wearing it. After many years, I took my parents to one picture, "Sri Krishna Satya" in Swarajya Talkies. My father said, "It was an idiotic film" All this happened before I got orders. I remember that my plan was to go to Guntur for the marriage on the 8th, leave for Hyderabad from there. My friend reserved the ticket. It was a red bus. My seat number was 44. He felt bad, I got last seat. After I went to bus stand, he did not turn up for long. I was worried,. Finally, when the bus was about to start he came, pushed a sweater into the window and "It is very cool in Hyderabad. My mother gave Rs.50/- to buy you a sweater. This is Rs.48/-. It took time to select the right size. He ran after the bus crying, "Take care, take care, take care" Are tears not flowing in your eyes? Are there still people like him in this world? Rare.

I joined the job. By the third day there was a letter from mother. " Lakshmana Rao uncle said that you were under- weight and that LIC was strict on that and that they would cancel your orders. Father is totally depressed." He is a cousin to my mother and an insurance agent.

All selected candidates were sent for medical examination. My Doctor was staying in Adarsh Nagar. He tested my height, weight, other vitals. He also tested my eyes. I asked him without hesitation and innocently. "Shall I lose my job because I am underweight?" He was from North, an old man above 60. "Who told you?" he asked. I told him the episode. "You write to your mother now itself that this Doctor gave you back the job." he affectionately said, hugged me and told "I am writing your original weight only. You are underweight but healthy"

Why is this called churning? There is reason. Medical reports of all recruits were received. About five candidates were sent away. All reports came except mine. I was shocked. It did not come the next day, the next and next day. I did not sleep all these days. I was seeing ghost of my uncle and my mother crying. They were four horrible days in my life. Why should this happen to me? When the medial fitness was cleared why was there so much delay in my case. They misplaced my urine report. Finally they traced it and sent it. What kind of tension I could have undergone?Thai why I called it churning , poison oozing wfrequently.

It was a training of 15 days. On 24th December my uncle Sri Penumaka Ramachandra Rao Garu came to my office. He went into personnel manager's room. I was called from my seat in Surrenders Section. My uncle was in tears. "If you can not control your emotions, how can the child bear?" the personnel manager asked him. My legs started trembling. "Your father got admitted to hospital with paralysis on 10th December, (the day I joined my office.) Nothing serious. Go and see him and come back. I will you only a day's leave." Immediately I sat on the floor and started crying loudly. All the staff gathered, I remember. They sent me home. We got a night bus and reached the hospital in the morning. As I was entering the Kotta Ravindra Babuu hspital, my younger brother came running and told me that Doctor said father won't live and our elder brother stopped buying medicines. ("Why does a man dying today or tomorrow need medicine? It is wasting money. " were the exact words that my younger one told me as having been said by the eldest) Borrow some money and bring. The Kirana Shop owner stopped giving items on credit. There is not much rice left in the house. He is refusing to take any kind of responsibility"  Are you able to believe? No? That is the truth of the matter. Today, all may refuse that it happened like that. They may revolt on me. Truth will not die. Today, as they have money, they want family prestige. What happened to it behind four walls, when we all were poor? 

I immediately rushed to the house of Venkateswara Rao.(He was in Guntur), by handing over the brief case to him. )I was loving my younger brother so much. He sacrificed a lot in his life. I could not bear him crying. I did not go to meet my father too.)  We were indebted a lot to them by that time. There were no promissory notes. She cried. "Why has this happened like this? Does your father have no luck to eat from your earnings?" I told her the entire episode. Immediately she gave me Rs.500/- Do you believe? Rs.500/- in 1973? It was almost my two months' salary. Just for me, for the satisfaction of her son and for his happiness.  We paid back the credit in Reddy shop. He was sad too. "Mine is also a small shop, Babu. That is why I could not extend credit." I told him my job and salary and asked him never to refuse credit to my brother. We purchased medicines and met the Doctor. He asked me why again we changed mind and he said he won't live. I asked him to give medicines till he lived. He did so.

 

Change is law of  life.

 

 

 

After this I met father in sick bed. He was still stammering  a little. He asked me to sit alone on his bed, took my hand in his (one hand was effected) and stammered slowly. " With this right hand I used your scholarship amount. I could not make you an engineer.  May be God punished me like this making the hand numb" Those were almost the last words I heard from him.

 

Same day I returned to Hyderabad. My first leave on Loss Of Pay. The biggest snake in my life cursed me from which I could not recover fully even now. Had he lived, my life would have taken a turn for the better. But my wife fulfilled his job almost 99%, friend, philosopher, adviser, controller and Goddess. That 1% of deficit is that I could not serve him for what he did to me.

day I returned to Hyderabad. My first leave on Loss Of Pay. The biggest snake in my life cursed me from which I could not recover fully even now. Had he lived, my life would have taken a turn for the better. But my wife fulfilled his job almost 99%, friend, philosopher, adviser, controller and Goddess. That 1% of deficit is that I could not serve him for what he did to me.

What you read till now is about me. Now, the real story starts. Please be reading.

 

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 The Churning of The Life of Ocean- The College Days- Opening up of New Vistas- A Few Ladders- A Big Snake PART 5

 

This was my stature in the Bank in the year 1983, at age 30. I was the second-line manager in the Main Branch of Hyderabad, Siddiamber Bazar, at age 30, one of the most famous officers across the board. There were eight officers, forty clerks, three attenders and two Janata Deposit Collectors I was managing at that time. The manager was so confident of my management abilities that he, too, acted on my advice.  The doubting Thomases can enquire with the officers and clerks who worked in Hyderabad at that time. That lean guy smiling was me. Our Chairman was garlanded. Sitting was Congress MP T.Subbarami Reddy.  Subbaramireddy used to call me only for work related to his account, and I was a regular invitee to parties at his house along with Senior Managers and the Regional Manager. Executives from Head Office, including the Chairman, were his guests. You can guess what happens in banks. By the side was another Industrialist.

Life is an arduous journey. For generations, parents have been taking their children on very rough roads driving in dilapidated vehicles called life on a pot -hole -filled road. As and when each child learns to drive, they give a new vehicle with new technology, teach him to drive and leave him on a newly laid highway, with enough speed breakers, and gift him a companion for support throughout his life’s journey. They continue to do this till the last child is on the highway, and they pass into oblivion in their own vehicle or in the vehicle of one of their children.

Though taught to be disciplined drivers, the children, either bitten by one of the six enemies kam, krodh, lobh, moha, mada, maatsarya or prodded by their new companion, drive their vehicles in such a manner that they cause, either intentionally or inadvertently, accidents, causing injuries to others. The accident might have been caused by other drivers on the highway. And by the time the journey reaches a cul-de-sac, both the vehicles and roads get damaged. On the way, a few lives would have been lost or totally crippled. The rough drivers, the drivers with emotional immorality who have bad companions cannot escape responsibility in such cases.

 

There are other drivers among the new generation who, due to overspeed, arrogance, or a lack of judgment at the proper time, hit a tree on the way and either are crippled for life or recover with grit and determination. While I belong to this category (who, of course, made a miraculous recovery), my own kith and kin, along with a few others,  belong to the former.

 

As the next generation takes over, this generation again hands over the mantle of driving, either asking them to continue their tradition or to learn from the pitfalls of their predecessors' journey and be more efficient and careful. 

 

As I was too speeding, too arrogant, too over confident and too restless about all the speed breakers and was a bad judge, not able to know that the others were targeting me, I hit a tree and got injured critically at age 40 and recovered fully, thanks to a very patient companion I, myself, chose and the next generation, she taught how not to emulate my speed.  That is the reason the following had to be written now. Or the history would have been different.

 

This is the chart of seven generations preceding our birth.

As my third brother was itching to expose my dishonesty (as I tried to write my life story and how actions of others influenced my psychology) and has been pestering me to publish the charges against me in the Bank to shout "Yes! See! He was dishonest," I decided to publish them here. Those not in the know of banking may say, " They are serious charges inviting dismissal." I do not want to go into the merits and demerits of the charges now. Later, I will explain why eight out of ten charges were frivolous.  In two, my involvement was minimal. I did not want to prolong the agony of others and myself further. Hence, I opted for the severest punishment, although the ten charges individually do not attract minimum punishment.

Yes! I am right. As a Union Leader, I knew this fact. But a big game of cunning was played by the inspecting official, with whom I never worked. The only reason he went after me was because of the prodding of a GM, whose story comes later, and this officer’s overambition to stand tall in the eyes of management. Ultimately he did not get promotions, whereas his juniors climbed to the top. He died prematurely with Kidney illness. I will explain in detail why I asked or rather challenged the Management to dismiss me, quoting the first line of this story. “ I am intelligent, and you can dismiss me but not my spirit. The I.O.  recorded all this.

 

The transactions that took place were the order of the day at our bank, at least, and I will provide instances of such transactions at the appropriate time slot in the history. Here, I am jumping the gun to satisfy the envy of my third brother. Thus, I am free to write about incidents in their personal lives too, that had no bearing on my life. This is not a revenge story. It is a story that is at the centre of revenge and justice.   But in a game, players should get equal opportunity. One cannot get bail on phone and the others rot as undertrials. It is a violation of Art.14 and 21 of Constitution. But, I decided to forego the fundamental right as it was never to hurt others In my life's journey, too I hurt myself and never intentionally caused injuries to others. But as Lord Krishna said in the Gita, I took sweet revenge on a few when the opportunity presented itself and taught them a lesson without injuring them as much. Here too, I continue to hurt myself, but not others. I am narrating incidents that led my life into an abyss.

 

 

These are the charges.

 

1.   That I exceeded my discretionary powers and issued two bank guarantees of Rs.15 lakh each. Loss to the bank was about Rs. 4.65 lakh. (I granted a Temporary Overdraft as second in line in my previous branch, as the Manager was on leave, of Rs.43 lakh to a group owned by a leading politician. This exceeded the Chairman's discretionary powers, too. This and another TOD of Rs. 15 lakh were hushed up as higher-ups were deeply involved with these groups. I entertained many such transactions on the oral instructions of superiors. All will be revealed at the appropriate juncture. And no deviation was ever ratified. I did not receive a memo or warning, at least. Another noteworthy point is that a Bank Guarantee has to be signed by two officers. So, another lady officer signed. Why was she not suspended, not even questioned? When she signed the Bank Guarantee, she would have been sure that an entry was made in the register, the commission was collected, and ratification was sought. If she did not do all these things, she was highly negligent or dishonest, as an allegation was made against me. Why did they not try to do so? A question could be asked why I spared her. That was because she only followed my instructions. Does one need any other proof of my honesty in accepting my responsibility? I will discuss the sinister game, played by the Inspecting Official in collusion with the GM, who has been trying to get rid of me for years and years.

 

 

2. That I did not collect commission on some bank guarantees or collected a smaller amount. The loss to the bank was around Rs.60,000/- ( This was done to show the total loss as Rs.5 lakh as it entails automatic dismissal under CCS rules as per an SC judgment. So, if I challenged charges, they would have ultimately removed me from service under this pretext. Finally, when they could not find an iota of dishonesty in my dealings in the Bank, they invoked this clause. I collected the commission. When I asked them to permit me to show the entry, they denied access to the books, saying they were filing criminal charges against me. (Criminal ???)

 

3.That I granted truck loans to many from a community living in the same locality. All these were sanctioned by Regional office. All were regular payers. The community contributed immensely for business growth.

 

4. That in the process, I released one loan of Rs. 1.70 lakh to one member of the community even before RO  approved of it. Later they refused to ratify my action. This, too, was a regular account. Most Managers release loans when RO or HO delay approval, and the loanee is genuine and offered fixed deposits as security.

 

5. That I failed to record two bank guarantees in the books of accounts. (proved false as these were reported in balance sheets, the books were misplaced or pages torn. I was not given chance to verify)

 

6. That I opened a benami (black money) SB account and allowed a third person to draw cash by a withdrawal slip and not by cheque. (The account was not closed nor hidden). (This is not a sustainable charge as I could have proven thousands of such transactions in the bank. Even now, I remember the names and accounts and, names of Managers. All at appropriate time.)

 

7. That I misused my official position and visited Hyderabad on official duty (mostly to carry cash of Rs.50 lakh each alternate day) instead of deputing other officers to complete my personal work by saving leave. Besides taking the risk of carrying huge cash in a naxal-infested forest area with one security guard, whose gun, none knows works or not, I had to face this humiliation. Is this a charge on a Manager who has been carrying on doing his duty despite naxal violence and robberies ?

 

8. That I issued a DRI loan of Rs.1000/- against norms. It became NPA. This was fun. In my Hyderabad Branch DRI loans of Rs.1000/- or Rs.2000/- were sanctioned even without seeing the face of the customers and all were written off. These accounts into hundreds.

 

These eight charges were frivolous, and if I earned money through dishonest means, I would have fought a battle with the bank. I never enjoyed even the hospitality of customers except in the presence of the Chairman and  other very senior officers.

 

The two charges on which action could have been initiated and maximum punishment of cut in increments could have been imposed were the last two.

 

9.That I raised loans on the fixed deposits (brnami) of customers and paid to outsiders who needed money. I did not enjoy the money. The other names, the whole history, I will reveal at the time slot as the story progresses. (The amount was made good later).

 

10. That I made a frivolous entry in a SB account. This was both morally and judgmentally wrong, as I presented a cheque and should have waited till clearance was over. Though not exactly dishonest, at the level at which I was fighting the system, these two could have been categorised as dishonest.

Funnily enough, these two charges were not investigated nor were they mentioned in my dismissal order. It was simple. They could not pin dishonesty to my character, even after the officers tried and harassed customers to give letters that I took bribe, my customers stood by me till the end.

 

All said, these two were practices carried out by many of the managers, some my own superiors, who were never touched, and even if suspended, were reinstated with back wages. I will reveal these transactions and the names of managers in future.

 

99% of the bank employees did not know the charges as I kept them under wraps, nor sought help from anyone. Rumours ran amok like ants reaching out to a piece of jaggery up for grabs.

 

Anyone reading this may ask a question, "Why were you particularly targeted?" Not only me, whoever stood in the way of a very biased management faced this. There are reasons like Karna's death. The story enters 19th December, 1977. I entered the bank. The struggles I passed through from day one to the day I left the Bank left , will be revealed.

 

I never escaped responsibility, nor was I ever afraid of the consequences or public castigation. If I did a dishonest act, no, not I did. The relevant question is, "Should I be haunted throughout my life for small errors of judgment, where I did not enjoy even a rupee of ill-gotten wealth?" Judge not now; judge after you read the whole story.

The person who prefers to take responsibility is bound to suffer ignominy. The Bull that ploughs suffers harsh punishment. In the public sector, 70 per cent enjoy all benefits and retirement benefits at the cost of 30 per cent that do real work. It is the truth, howsoever I might be judged. Only a few out of these suffer humiliation at the hands of 70 per cent, resting and enjoying. My third brother falls in the lazy and ignorant group. I doubt if he ever heard what Bank Guarantee is, what Letter of Credit is, what end use of a loan is. These guys were fit for verifying signatures and passing cheques, a toddler can do.

I hope this will satisfy the appetite of jealousy of my third brother and others. Now, I reserve the right to enter their personal affairs. But I will not do that.  Let God be the Judge.

 

I know that the jealous will try to find something to justify their cruelty. Hence, I jumped into the time machine and went into the future.

 

God bless my detractors and their heirs, one of whom was pushed out of his family for three years for no fault of his.

I am not writing this to get my retirement benefits. There is no Rama or Krishna to remove the curse on me. Even if they give benefits (they wont ) I do not want that blood money. My children can feed our two little mouths and ultimately carry us to the grave.

 

I lived my whole life quoting this poem in Telugu, written by Potana in Bhagavatam.

 

బాలరసాలసాలనవపల్లవ కోమల కావ్యకన్యకం

గూళలకిచ్చి యప్పడుఁపు గూడు భుజించుటకంటె సత్కవుల్

హాలికులైననేమి గహనాంతరసీమలఁ గందమూల కౌ

ద్దాలికులైననేమి నిజ దార సుతోదర పోషనార్థమై

(Instead of dedicating my pious daughter, this book, to kings and eat the money earned on her sweet content, I will live like a farmer or in the far off hills eating leaves to feed my wife and children)

But as Lord Krishna told in the Gita, that all are killed by Him only and it is our duty to punish the wrongdoers, I too took sweet revenge on some without affecting their families as and when opportunity came my way.  All will come in due course.

 

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That done to satiate the appetite of jealousy of my brother, I will go back to my entry into the town life for the first time after completion of SSLC.

To be or not to be, that was the dilemma my father faced when I completed SSLC and my younger brother completed his SSC. (That year, the education curriculum was changed from 11+1+3 to 10+2+3). Till then, my second and third brothers were cycling almost 6 km to attend the town college. By the time they returned home they were too tired. It was impossible to carry on with home study. It was a pitiable situation as there was no hostel facility. We had no relations. But with four of us in college, it was an open and shut case. Well-wishers in the village goaded him to stay back, with the assurance of good income to carry on as usual. My mother and brothers objected as they were feeling the heat. My younger brother and I were too weak to cycle such a distance. With no savings, no assured income, and no guarantee of what would happen in town, my father decided to move to town to make us graduates.

My two elder brothers zeroed in on a portion big enough to accommodate us, with a tiled roof. Rent was Rs.45/- pm with power charges extra. Along with us rats, cockroaches, termites and all other animate creatures like ants, red ants etc, used to stay with us without paying rent. If it rained, the roof used to leak, so we first used to keep a bucket at one place when another leak was found, another bucket till all the vessels were full. We were moving our cots here and there to avoid the cold rainwater drops, but by morning, half of us were half wet. Besides, dust freely fell from the roof. (If you read Pickwick Papers, The Old Curiosity Shop, Great Expectations etc., by Dickens, you will find clear appropriate description of life in such houses). But with our scarce resources, we were unable to move out. In addition, it was an open lavatory, where a scavenger used to come daily to clean. During rainy seasons, she was skipping duty, making the place smell. The house owners were pseudo-Orthodox Brahmins who used to trouble my mother with their weird rules and mock our poverty. We used to sit in a semicircle for evening food, with my father sitting at a corner as head. You can see the Godfather movie to get an idea of how a compact family, where the word of the Head is the Gita or Bible, lives. Here too, arranging the plates was my duty. Keeping the water glasses was my younger brother's as per the diktat of my elder brother.

 

The day for admission to the college came. Our college was famous for nothing but notorious for internecine caste wars, union wars, bloody battles, violent sports activities and whatnot. In NCC, though, it was standing tall. The candidates are to be accompanied by their parents to decide on the donation. Depending on the family income, the marks obtained by the student, and the demand for donations used to grow . My turn came. The Correspondent, Sri Nannapaneni Venkata Rao, a Congress veteran, recognised my father, saw my marks list and said there was no seat for me. My father was stunned. He said, " Why do you spoil the future of your child by admitting him here? I advise you to admit him to Loyola, Vijayawada", where my close friend joined. My father expressed an inability due to financial difficulties. He offered to bear the fee. My father asked who would bear hostel expenses. He kept quiet. "There is no donation for your child, but as I have to show something on record, I will pay Rs.10/- on your behalf and give you 10 lottery tickets of AP". That year, it was mandatory for colleges to sell lottery tickets. "But, Doctor!" he said "if you get a lottery, admit him to Loyola he said, and he blessed me. No lottery, no Layola, a pipe dream. College life almost passed out, I did not score as much as I was* in school days, but was first in class always that within one year my name was known across college.

 

 

During PUC one incident happened that troubled me and helped me regain self-confidence to develop good communication in English.  That year, the local Rotary Club offered Rs.100/-  to the student who joined the three local colleges with the highest score in the previous examination. It seems they sent a postcard to my college, but it did not reach me. After some time, my uncle wrote a letter stating that my name appeared in a local paper (Andhra Jyothi) that I received Rs.100/- from the local Rotary Club. That day my father's anxiety was to be seen. Losing Rs.100/-?,  It provides a 50 kg. rice. He advised me to approach the Secretary. I found out the name of the Secretary, who was a famous lawyer, Sri.TVS Sastry. He probed me for half an hour. I was standing. He was reading a newspaper, sipping coffee. I told the details. He said he would send another invitation during their next meeting and I could collect the cheque. These people wanted publicity; it was not out of love. He could have given the cheque there itself, confirming my identity. He did not.

 

As promised, he sent a card. He advised his attendant to give the card to me personally. I attended the meeting on the appointed day and received the cheque, tea and biscuits. I was totally lost in the pomp. I was wearing a worn out dress. The next morning, it appeared in the paper that the generous Rotarians awarded Rs.100 to a poor student. First time I was exposed to the wide gulf between merit and poverty. For the first time, I wrote a strong letter to the paper without informing my father, condemning the paper and the Rotary Club for being blind to the intelligence in a poor boy. My father and I went to the bank to cash the cheque. It was dated almost six months back. The clerk had a doubt. He sent me to the manager, who doubted me more and asked us to get the cheque signed by Sri Sastry on the back. That was a working day for the courts. I doubted if he was in court. I ran to his home nearby, got the signature (luckily, he had no cases that day) and cashed the cheque. Then the manager apologized to my father for making him wait and said it was part of his duty. We never bore a grudge against him. In the later part of my life, I became a bank manager and a Rotarian too.  I remembered the incident and shared it in the bank and Rotary Club. This was my second income.  I got Rs.30/- for the highest marks in seventh class too. That was a story in itself. One hundred students, scoring the highest marks in the tenth class, were awarded Rs.100/- each. The students got the reward caste-wise. Upper and lower classes. For upper-class students, there was a maximum income limit, the creamy layer. My father’s income exceeded by about Rs.10/- So, I did not get the scholarship. My father never compromised on injustice. He told the Headmaster to write to the concerned government department. He wrote a very strong letter, he told me. As a special case, the government sanctioned Rs.30/- as consolation in view of the highest score I secured in the state. That day, the headmaster called me and started laughing. He said Little fellow! We dug a mountain and brought out a mouse. Anyhow, you proved your mettle.  

will never forget the thirty soiled one-rupee notes the clerk gave me. That was my first income. 

How true does this quote sound in my case?

 

After I entered my B.SC., my first scholarship cheque came to the college. It was for Rs.675/- only for nine months @Rs.75/- pm. The college clerk sent word to me to collect my cheque. He was a very white Brahmin, wearing a very white dress, a very pleasant man called Sri Bala Krishna. He asked me to sign a revenue stamp, above which it was written: "Received Payment". I refused to sign until I received the payment. He was amused and smiled. He tried to convince me and showed the cheque. I asked him what if they cashed the cheque already. He laughed loudly and called another shabby-looking Brahmin clerk, Sarma, who shouted at me for not having respect on elders. Bala Krishna reduced his heat and used his final weapon. "If you insist so, it will go to the Principal."

 

The principal, a black, stout lady called Madam Salmon Raj, was very disciplined. She was imposing strict discipline.  She seemed like a Warrior of many battles. Even the toughest guy was unable to talk to her eye to eye. This old man thought I would blink in front of her. I said I would sign if she convinced me. He explained to her. She saw me. I was  a tiny schoolboy-faced boy with a knicker and a shabby shirt. Short, thin, etc, emaciated due to malnutrition. She took pity on me, called me, patted me on the back and handed over the cheque first. Then she got the signature, patiently explained the rationale and said, “You won over me, Salmon Raju! May Jesus bless you!” After coming out Sri Bala krishna told me he had never seen such a boy with so much fighting spirit and blessed "You would come up in life". With his blessing, despite a major setback, I came up in life.

 

The letter was published in toto in Andhra Jyothi. Sastry called me, rebuked me for being so arrogant to take on the mighty Rotarians.! I stood my ground, said they made three mistakes, and I would neither repent nor apologise. Later, within 16 years at 32, I was a Rotarian, myself.

 

After a few days, a few guys who spoke fluent English (English Medium guys) approached me, saying Sri TVS Sastry had sent a special invitation for me to join the Rotaract Club, a youth wing of Rotary. I said I was poor, and would not be able to pay any fee or donation. It seemed Sri Sastry decided to pay all, on my behalf, but he wanted me, as he saw a leader in me who stood and opposed the mighty Sastry, Secretary of the mighty club in the mighty town, with all the rich and the mighty. Thank you, Sastry Gar! You gave me a great break!. These Rotaract members were so impressed with me that they made me one in their inner circle (mainly because of my tiny size and shiny speech, always agile, joking, learning spoken English fluently,  better than many of them, in three months. I became their younger brother. They were daily greeting me in my class. I got a new circle that helped me in my life. The confidence gained then helped me throughout my life. Thank you guys, wherever you are! God bless your next generation !.

 

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I was a Rotarian by age 32, lean, short, but respected. I defied all but still grew.

Not much happens in college life in such a college unless you're a wrestling or boxing champion. So, life went on. I got a record score in English 170/300 . I was one of the first ten in the university. The head of department, a scholar, an expert in teaching Shakespeare (never taught in my section), shorter than me, Sri Subbarao, called me to see the face of the magician, who scored so much under their guidance, in that college. He told me that after the college was established, it was the highest score and a record.

 

At the end of the second year, one of my friends told me that my name was on the notice board. It was an announcement of prizes for the annual day that week. I saw my name in the first-prize category in English and was elated. I attended the annual day with the best out of the torn- out dresses (I do not remember having purchased new clothes until I got a job order), and when my name was called, I received a book. After that, in Telugu, my name was called out. I took the book and was about to leave the stage. The lecturer reading the names asked me to stand by the side. One after the other followed. In all subjects, I was the first. Finally, I got the prize for the best student in the second-year degree classes. A Chambers' 20^th Century Dictionary was presented. The weight of the books was more than I could bear. The students laughed. My friend came on the stage and took some books. I took a rickshaw, after my friend assured me that he would pay the fare.  I was doubtful if my father had any money at home. My father paid the fare. I said "sorry" for having come by a rikshaw; he brushed it aside. The next day, he was turning the pages of each book with tear-filled eyes. Some incidents cannot be forgotten. He was such a great man that he never applauded me, but he was full of pride that I was his son. 

 

The same year, I got a call from the Bank of India, Vizag Region, for a written test for a clerk post. (That time the minimum qualification was SSLC/SSC with 18 years of age). My father was unwilling as I did not complete graduation. He wept while telling me that he was so incapacitated that he was using me to run the family. My mother pestered as one employee in the family at that time would have saved nine others. I travelled the longest distance in my life (previous record was 30 km) to Vizag, stayed in my brother's new relations' house, got through the test and was called for interview.

 

Here, the funniest thing happened. I was sitting with other interviewees in the line. The bank employees, other interviewees and even the attendant were all looking at me as if seeing a migratory bird rarely sighted. By that time I was already enjoying my figure and brain.  Finally, one officer, unable to control his anxiety came to me and asked what work I came for. I gave him the letter. He saw it, saw me doubtfully and went back. Probing eyes asked him, "What is the matter?" He told. Some chuckled, some were surprised, some were highly appreciative. I knew why they were looking at me. 

 

I was enjoying my prominence. Their probing eyes were asking me, "Who are you? Starving Lord Ganesha?" I answered in my mind, " No! I am Chandra, the moon, cursed by Mother Parvati, for laughing at his Son. She cursed me to take his height but not weight" (Just fu

The chuckling attendant called my name. I could not open the heavy swing door. I tried. It came back. I pushed again. It came back and hit me. The attendant chuckled again, opened the door and stood there. "Who is this boy? Ask him to come after the interviews are over," shouted a very tall, shabby-looking man with a glittering suit on. "Might have been for an educational loan," the other interviewer, a simple-looking man, replied. "No, Sir! He came for interview," chuckled the attendant again. "How amusing?" I really thought. " Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?" the big man shouted. Others laughed loudly and drank water. 

 

I was asked to sit. “You look like a school boy. (I heard this till 35 years of age, when I was Manager at a Bank). "Why are you in such a hurry to get a job?" he asked. "As my family requires my money to eat food" I boldly said in a bold voice. 

 

I asked the big man, "Can you get a glass of water?" He gave water and asked, "Are you not nervous?" I smiled and said, " No" I said. " After all of us laughed too?, he asked. " No! I am habituated" Others were feeling uncomfortable, but this man was enjoying. Later, he told me that he wanted to test me as I was a boy. The interview went on for half an hour. They wanted to see if I answered one question wrong. (Later they told me).  It was not possible. Finally, one man got an idea. He asked,"Who is the Union Labour Minister?" I answered correctly. He changed only the previous day. The tall man said, "You are inimitable. We selected you. But, we are keeping your name last, as we do not want to disturb your studies in the middle." In the meantime, agitation for separate Andhra escalated, everything went topsy-turvy, exams were postponed, the list got outdated, and I did not get the job. The first big snake in my life. But I climbed another bigger ladder.


In Chapter Five. The Journey Starts on a rough road with full speed.

Here, I fail in my duty if I do not mention two names who stood by me, never commenting on me or asking for an explanation for my plight. They just helped. One is Rama, and the other is Krishna, the 11th and 12th Avatars of Lord Vishnu, who were born to help the distressed.

First one is my maternal uncle (my aunt too) Sri Penumaka Ramachandra Rao, Smt. Easwari. Their house is where all took shelter when I entered Hyderabad. I call his house "Gateway of Hyderabad" for our family. May God give them long life. He is a God to my family. My son loves him more than he loves me, it is the truth.

Second one is my close friend Aramandla Venkateswara Rao, his wife Radha Rani, his father and mother, brother and sister-in-law, sister and brother-in-law. (These are Choudaries) I feel sad today. I moved away from him. Will try to revive contact. I want to hug him while standing on a stool, as our heights do not match.

You will find umpteen references to these two, in many future chapters as they drove my vehicle. Others who helped me are umpteen and they will find many mentions. But my wife comes first.



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