The Plight of the American (Part II)

The American who has been deputed to India for the prestigious project of the UN, or IMF is currently at the office of the Anti Corruption Bureau. Outside the office building, he is amazed to see a couple of Maruti 800s parked outside the building. The reason he is amazed is that the other cars are Skoda Octavias and Mitsubishi Lancers and Honda City’s. This gets him wondering about the salary of the babus working there. The moment I type babus, Word suggests that I should type babes! Yeah, right! These Americans are funny people, aren’t they?

He enters the building, wondering what sort of an experience he should expect. Nothing will prepare him for the shock he is about to receive. There is no one; absolutely no one in the office. Only a single peon, looking bored, trying to sleep while simultaneously swatting away flies from the front of his face. He seems very skilled at this, the American observes. He goes to the peon.

American : “Where is everybody?”
Peon : (Swatting yet another fly) “They have gone for a raid.”
A : “The whole staff! Man, they are dedicated people.”
P : “They sure are. Besides, it’s not everyday that Americans come to India”
A : “Americans? What do you mean by that?”
P : “They have gone to lay their hands on all the American stuff they can find in the room of that American who has recently arrived for some project. In case you are looking for them, you will find them in The Taj”
A : (Alarmed) “But that’s where I am living!”
P : “Room No. 208, right?”
A : “How do you know?”

But by this time, the peon has fallen off his chair. He can’t control his laughter. Obviously, he finds the situation of the American a very funny one. Being robbed by the people you have come to meet and in general to develop their country is really hilarious to him as compared to seeing the blood of the dead flies on his hands. Because, he sees a lot of it everyday. Because that is what he does most of the time.

The American is really angered now. He is desperately trying not to lose his temper and fly at someone in a fit of rage. But he isn’t being helped by the laughing peon. Neither is he being helped by the fact that it is the middle of the great Indian summer and he is streaming perspiration at 200 gallons (gallons, not litres) per second. He needs to do something about this. This is not what he had come here for. He had come here to develop the country of these poor buggers and give them a chance to lead a better life, one involving lesser hassles while travelling, greater safety for the females in the society and a lot many more things. He is not going to keep quiet about this. He will definitely do something about this. He applies for a transfer to Europe.

And so, time passes and yet another American or another European Engineer makes his way to our “deprived, poor and starving and developing country”.