Haroon Bijli

(2900 words, 11 minutes)

The man was about to start his bath when his wife banged on the corrugated metal bathroom door.

“Your bank’s attendant is here!” she said. “I’m late for school. Hurry up and have your breakfast before you go.”

The bank manager finished his bath quickly. He went from the outhouse to the porch clad in his bath towel.

“Well, what is it? You could have just called!”

“Sir, that phone booth opens only after ten. But these guys are blocking the bank entrance demanding to see you! I couldn’t wait!”

The bank manager dressed up hurriedly. He didn’t bother with breakfast; this could get embarrassing, perhaps set off unnecessary rumours.

“Alright, leave your bicycle here, come with me on the scooter.”

When they arrived, most of the bank’s staff comprising entirely of women, were there, trying to negotiate their way inside. But the crowd of around a dozen hefty young men blocking them seemed immovable.

The manager parked the scooter. He puffed up his chest as much as he could. A tough demeanor mattered.

“Alright, I’m here. Who’s your leader?”

From behind the hefty young men, an older man, much shorter, dressed in white shirt and crisp white dhoti stepped up.

“Ah, sir, welcome, welcome!” said the bank manager. The man was the local politician, a member of the district committee of the party currently in power in the state, and an avowed rationalist. Of all the attributes, it was the last one that irked the bank manager the most.

He led the rationalist into his office, a glass and aluminum cabin that was partitioned from the rest of the bank floor. The crowd of protesters remained at the entrance, but they moved aside to let the bank staff occupy their stations. It was a few minutes before the bank’s official opening time.

“Now sir,” said the bank manager when they were seated. “Why do all this. You could have just met me alone, right?”

“Ha,” laughed the rationalist. “As if that ever works. People like you don’t move an inch without pressure.”

The bank manager ignored the insult.

“I’ve already told you I can’t sanction the loan to the boatman. He just got his new boat; he’s only started paying for the instalments and now he wants another one. How am I to justify this?”

“You must. It’s his right as a citizen. He’s lost all the customers; no one wants to get on his boat. He needs a new one,” said the rationalist.

“See, this is what I don’t understand. You know why he says he needs the boat, right? Because people say they’ve seen a what as a passenger all the time. Name it, what?”

“A ghost,” said the rationalist.

“You’re the biggest rationalist in this village and here you are, asking me to write to Head Office for another loan for this guy who thinks there’s a ghost in his boat?” said the bank manager. He asked the attendant to bring cups of tea. This could go on for a while, he thought.

“You have your fun, the fact is he isn’t getting any passengers these days,” said the rationalist. “This is injustice. How many times has he been here begging for the loan? You treat him with disrespect?”

The bank manager countered. “I explained to him respectfully and he seemed to accept it. Now what is this? Why are you taking this up? You know I can’t help in cases like this. There is no way the HO will sanction another loan on this basis!”

The rationalist stood up. The attendant had brought the tea and was unsure whether to place it in front of him or wait for him to leave. This had gone south faster than he could have thought.

“You will regret this!” shouted the rationalist, wagging his finger at the bank manager. Outside, almost on cue, his crowd started sloganeering.

“Call the police,” the bank manager told the attendant, who was still holding the cup of tea and a flask.

The rationalist laughed. “Remember, Raju is also a party member, hehe,” he said, audible enough for the bank manager but not for the group of customers who were milling around watching the argument. Raju was the local police sub-inspector who had kept his political affiliations a well-guarded secret.

The rationalist joined his crowd and placed himself at the head of it. There was a certain rhythm to the sloganeering: “justice, justice to the boatman, inquilab zindabad (long live the revolution)! Loan sanction for the boatman, long live the revolution!”

The bank manager sat back on his seat and asked the attendant to serve him the tea instead, and place a call to the HO. The news might travel fast, he thought, and the last thing he wanted the HO to know was that he’d created a law-and-order situation at his branch. As it was, his promotion and a possible transfer to a bigger town branch of the bank had been stalled for quite some time.

Outside, the rationalist was getting a little tired. His voice was getting hoarse, and he regretted timing his exit before he could have the tea. He asked his henchmen to tone things down a bit. They need to go long and not high, he told them, indicating that they would have to do this repeatedly over the next few days to get a result.

The HO declined to take the branch manager’s call, telling the attendant that they would call the branch back through the course of the day. The branch manager decided to focus on more routine matters and figure out what exactly he was going to tell HO that would keep them informed but not alarm them.

The rationalist and his henchmen left the premises a little before lunchtime. Customers, some of whom hung around much after their business was done, told the bank staff that the rationalist had a point, and the bank should look at the boatman’s problem with sympathy. Most of them claimed to have seen the ghost, and they agreed that the boatman was right; the pastor and the local priest had tried their best to exorcise but the only thing that might work was a brand new boat.

The bank’s staff, consisting of three clerks and one officer, in turn, agreed with the customers, who incidentally were their friends or neighbours. The sole officer was assigned to speak to the manager about what they felt, which they decided should happen a little after lunch.

The bank manager usually went home for lunch, but he was expecting the HO to call on the phone any time. He was even nervous about calling his wife to tell her he wouldn’t be coming; what if they called at that precise minute and found the line engaged? They would never call him back; they were pigheaded curmudgeons, and his branch was not at all important to them.

He weighed through his options and decided he had to let his wife know. A quick 30-second conversation should have ended the matter, but his wife had heard the news about the dharna.

“You know, you should give the man his loan. We’ve taken his boat many times,” said his wife.

“It’s not in my hands and keep the phone down, I am expecting the HO to call any time,” the bank manager replied.

“Oh yeah, as if they will,” said his wife.

“How come you are not at school? You don’t have exam valuation duty today?” the bank manager snapped, irritated at the tone she used.

“Oh, mister manager, sir, now you don’t know I pick up our kids, feed them, get them to my mother’s and get back to work? You don’t help at home, now I realize you don’t even work enough at the bank!” said his wife and disconnected the call.

The bank manager seethed at how the conversation went, but he couldn’t do a thing about it; if the news had spread to her school, it was likely that the whole village already knew about it. Unnecessary pressure, thanks to the rationalist. Perhaps he should just have the lunch the attendant had brought him. It irritated him even more that the lunch was way too expensive since the restaurant was attached to a tourist resort, but the other places were too far away, and the attendant didn’t have his bicycle.

This would have to come out of his own pocket, thought the manager as he started serving himself.

The phone rang just as he put the first morsel into his mouth. If it was them, the HO had exceptional timing. He let it ring, but neither the attendant nor the officer, who had the other extension, picked it up. They had all gathered near the officer’s desk and were looking at him through the glass partition.

“Oh well,” sighed the bank manager, and gulped down his food even as he answered.

The bank staff, the remaining customers, and the attendant had their own theories on how the conversation was going. The attendant was quite sure that he was getting a dressing down. The officer didn’t agree; she felt the bank manager was giving a detailed explanation since he seemed to be talking more than listening. One of the staffers tried to lip read. “He is stuttering, just saying ok, ok, ok” she said. But these were minor differences; there seemed to be a consensus among them that the bank manager wasn’t doing a good job of convincing whoever was listening at the other end.

After he disconnected the phone, the bank manager stepped out of his cabin. Everyone scurried back to their stations and the customers first pretended to be looking for something and then disappeared one by one.

“You lot, you know that I can see through the glass?” the bank manager said. They pretended not to hear him.

The bank manager asked the attendant to fetch the boatman. Everyone looked up.

“No need to get happy, I know what you were planning to tell me,” he said. “The HO asked me to get his details. Again.”

The sole officer of the bank spoke up.

“Sir, all of us think we should give the boatman the loan,” she said.

“Madam, you know that it is not up to me. As it is, it was tough to get the loan sanctioned the last time. They know there’s a bridge being built across the lake and he will end up idle when it is complete. I took a lot of risk persuading them.”

“And he is saying there is a ghost on his boat,” the bank manager continued. “How on earth am I supposed to cite that as a reason?”

“Well, we could say something else…” volunteered the officer.

“What? You are the smarter one here. You think the bank won’t audit a loan like this? Rs 15,000 is a lot of money for this branch, and it was sanctioned just three months ago! This might get me out of the job, and you will lose it too!”

“Well… just trying to help…” the officer stuttered as she shuffled back to her workstation.

“What a day! And it is just three o’clock,” the bank manager said to himself as he went back to his desk in the cabin.

An hour or so later, the attendant arrived with the boatman.

“The reason I called you here is because the HO is asking for some details.” said the bank manager after the boatman sat down across the desk. “But tell me, why did you send that politician? There are so many other ways to put up a grievance…”

“No sir, I didn’t ask him to speak to you,” the boatman interrupted. “He is a skinflint, sir, he has been mooching off me for weeks!”

“Oh, that’s interesting. He gets on your boat?”

“Sir, he is the only one or two people who use the boat, sir, but he doesn’t pay! I told him he can’t freeload anymore, and he asked why, I explained it to him and now he’s getting me into trouble! He keeps saying that I am making the story up just to charge him extra!”

This made the bank manager feel better than he’d felt all day. Caught the geezer, he thought. There was going to be delicious denouement once this matter was settled.

“Okay, leave him aside. I’ve spoken to the HO. Put my goodwill on the line. For you, okay? Because even my wife is threatening me if I don’t do anything for you,” the bank manager said. “Answer me these questions.”

He got the officer to take down notes. It was good to have a witness, and since she was all kindness and grace, thought the bank manager, let her do some work too.

“How many rides today, and how many rides before…. before the ghost?”

“Just two people from the other town,” the boatman said. “No one here wants to go across. They take the bus or hike all the way around. Before that I used to do at least a dozen crossings a day, both sides.”

“You haven’t seen the ghost, right? Only the passengers see it?” asked the bank manager.

“Yes sir, they only told me. I kept arguing there was no one on the boat, but they insist they saw a lady with her head covered, sir. Apparently, some woman drowned in the lake a few weeks ago. I don’t know how she started appearing on my boat. At first, I thought they were making up the story to avoid paying two-way fare, but even the pastor said he saw the ghost.”

“The rationalist?”

“No, I told you, he doesn’t see the ghost. He said I was making the story up to charge him extra. That freeloader doesn’t even…”

“Don’t take that down!” said the bank manager rebuking the officer who was scribbling away. “You’ll get us in more trouble than we already are!”

“How many people can you carry at a time?” he turned his attention back to the boatman.

“Six. Seven or eight if there are kids.”

“The older boat? The one you got rid of last month, how many passengers could that carry?”

“Oh, that one? That was a large boat, sir, inherited from my father. Ten adults.”

“Hmm,” nodded the bank manager. He addressed his officer. “Maybe we could make a case that he could raise his revenue by upgrading into a bigger boat? Good idea, don’t you think?”

“Yes, sir. We could also see if the boat manufacturer will do an exchange. Then the loan amount will only be the balance payment. It could be one of those ‘top-up’ schemes the bank has introduced lately,” the officer said.

“Oh madam, you truly are smart,” said the bank manager.

“No, sir, learned all this from you only, hehe…” the officer said in sotto voce.

“Sir!” the boatman interrupting the banter. “Can I go now? Looks like we are done here.”

“Yes, yes, now don’t worry. We will work this out. Okay? Now don’t say a word about the ghost to anyone. Just say ‘people are saying’ if someone from the bank or any other authority comes over. Got it?” said the bank manager.

“Okay sir, thank you so much, sir” the boatman said deferentially.

The next day when the bank manager arrived at the bank, slightly earlier than usual, the rationalist was already there with his henchmen. They were only half the number of people who had come the day before and appeared less hefty. They started sloganeering once they saw the bank manager get off his scooter.

 “So, you cut down your budgets for your little army, is it?” remarked the bank manager as he squeezed past them into the bank. “Come into the office.”

“You have a penchant to complicate things, don’t you,” countered the rationalist as he followed the bank manager into the cabin.

“Tea? Last time you denied me the pleasure of serving you tea.”

“Cut to the point. What is it?” asked the rationalist. He was sure that the bank manager had a trick up his sleeve. This was a different person from the flustered man he could bully the day before. What could have happened overnight? Surely the HO hadn’t sanctioned the loan already? They usually needed two weeks just to return a phone call.

“Well, you can consider the loan as good as sanctioned. He is also getting a bigger boat,” said the bank manager. He leaned back on his executive chair and cracked his knuckles. “I made it happen, you know?”

“Ha. As if you’d move a finger if I didn’t land up here!”

“Don’t threaten me, mister rationalist….”

The attendant decided to knock at the cabin door at the precise minute.

“Sir, you called me?”

“Er… no, but could you please serve this gentleman a cup of tea before he leaves? Thank you.”

***
A month later, the rationalist waited at the other bank of the lake for the boatman to glance across so that he could signal for him to come over. It took a few minutes. The boatman waved back and started punting across.

Good, thought the rationalist. A nice large boat, thanks to me. And there’s a passenger with him now, a lady with her head covered. I need to pay only the one-way fare; he told himself as he waited.