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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