A win–win situation

A street urchin and the cutout of the Great Leader in the city's din. Who will win? Raju Z. Moray paints the big picture.

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This story took place once upon a time in Fake Country. Such stories still take place from time to time. That is why such stories have a timeless relevance.

Most citizens of Fake Country were perennially sad. But the recovery officers of a tribunal called the 'Damn Rich Tribunal' were always a very happy lot.

There used to be a lot of bidding, lobbying and competition for being selected but once a recovery officer was ensconced in that seat, the ride used to be cosier than a voyage on any luxury liner.

Wagging tongues used to talk of mind-boggling amounts spent for getting appointed in adjudicatory capacities on the Damn Rich Tribunal especially if the posting was going to be in Humbug City, the commercial capital of Fake Country.

Gossipers claimed that it took 5 crore to get appointed as a registrar, 10 crore to become a presiding officer and 20 crore to be appointed as a recovery officer on the Damn Rich Tribunal for Humbug City!

All these posts were filled up by inviting applications from practising lawyers and members of the subordinate judiciary. The test of suitability was inherent in the undisclosed price one had to pay for selection.

If a lawyer or judicial officer could arrange to deposit the prescribed amount, that very act proved his or her resourcefulness, sense of morality and amenability to the decision-makers.

The main eligibility criteria for appointment were thus satisfied. Other requirements were merely embellishments to decorate a curriculum vitae which would languish in some file and no one would bother to read.

All poor people in Fake Country spent any free time they could muster thinking about various ways to become rich. They knew that any good investor makes an investment with an eye on recovering the same with as much profit as possible. And nothing beat the scope and capacity of recovery officers in the Damn Rich Tribunal for returns on the investment on appointment. Therefore, recovery officers were a highly respected lot.

One fine day, a recovery officer arrived on the shores of Humbug City to assume charge at its Damn Rich Tribunal. He was from somewhere in the Wild North. Word had travelled that he had impressed the big bosses with his 'efficiency' in meeting the minimum eligibility criteria prescribed for being selected.

Not every Tom, Dick or Harry could qualify to feature in this Kaun Banega Crorepati game of a different kind. For the sake of this story, we can call this recovery officer 'Mr Chitthiwala'.

His performance in the qualifying rounds had proved that he deserved to be posted in Fake Country's Humbug City.

To achieve administrative efficiency in the dispensation of justice, Mr Chitthiwala immediately fixed rates for the various kinds of reliefs which he was empowered by law to grant. Everything in Fake Country had to happen in accordance with law and transparency in governance was paramount.

Those who wanted relief could either join Mr Chitthiwala's 'efficiency in justice' mission or leave it. There was no compulsion. Chitthiwala believed in the freedom of choice, a fundamental freedom according to the Sacred Law Book of Fake Country.

Some experts felt that there was always plenty of freedom in Fake Country while some thought it was a genuine lie. Because they could agree to disagree, they were called experts.

Mr Chitthiwala had put in place a standard operating procedure inspired by two clarion concepts mooted by an inspirational leader of Fake Country. He was lovingly called The Great Leader by his disciples. These concepts were 'Make in Fake Country' and 'Ease of Doing Business'.

Chitthiwala never demanded or accepted any money. Money, after all, was the root of all evil. So they taught everyone in the schools of Fake Country.

His modus operandi for 'ease of doing business' was as simple as it was ingenious. As soon as he had come to know that he had pipped the competition to bag the recovery officer's seat on the Damn Rich Tribunal in Humbug City, Chitthiwala had strategically booked several under-construction flats in satellite towns in the National Capital Territory of Fake Country. The real estate market out there promised great growth and appreciation in the near future.

These flats were booked in the names of various relatives of Mr Chitthiwala. The EMI payments for such under-construction flats were to be made directly to various developers. Payments had to be made in regular instalments as per the prescribed schedules for the completion of those projects.

Once Chitthiwala assumed charge as 'recovery officer', he made all those who sought any relief from him in any matter before him pay an instalment in those projects as a gesture of goodwill to incline him to pass a favourable Order!

He would just give a small slip of paper to those who needed the relief. This chit only had a bank account, name of account holder and IFSC code printed on it along with the amount to be deposited.

These EMIs were then paid by the relief seekers as per the details provided directly into the account of the chosen developer of the projects where the under-construction flats had been booked by Mr Chitthiwala.

Thus, monies kept going into the developers' accounts at fixed intervals from various contributors as EMIs on behalf of Mr Chitthiwala till the completion of the projects.

The projects had been carefully chosen by Chitthiwala after ensuring that they would get completed and possession would be delivered well before his tenure as recovery officer on Humbug City's Damn Rich Tribunal came to an end.

In this manner, Orders in favour of the applicants kept being passed by the recovery officer. And as a quid pro quo, his instalments for several flats got paid by the applicants to the developers! It was a win-win situation in which no one would complain.

The Damn Rich Tribunal's Bar still considers Mr Chitthiwala to be one of its 'legends' because his 'post-retirement planning' was so perfect. On the day he retired, his relatives owned half a dozen flats in various strategic locations in the National Capital Territory of Fake Country without having paid for them!

A grand send-off had been organised for Mr Chitthiwala by the Damn Rich Club Bar Association of Humbug City and many speeches were delivered.

After his felicitation, Mr Chitthiwala too was requested to utter a few words of wisdom to the captive audience of his admirers who were going to miss him. Though Mr Chitthiwala knew that any speech before this depraved lot would be akin to casting pearls before swine, he acceded to their request.

He sportingly confided that he had been inspired by the vision of the inspirational leader of Fake Country. Chitthiwala said his ambition had always been to make lots of money but an inspiring speech of the Great Leader had made him think: "If money has to be made, why not 'Make in Fake Country'? Why not serve the nation by joining a service that would enable one to provide relief to people who are suffering the 'slings and arrows of outrageous fortune'?"

"What could be a better place for rendering such social service to suffering citizens in distress than the Damn Rich Tribunal of Humbug City? And why should anyone make things difficult for those who suffer and seek relief from suffering?"

The sufferers being businessmen who understood that time is money, would readily respond to any deal that cut through cumbersome procedures and offered a win-win solution to both the giver and the taker.

The Great Leader's great vision for Fake Country had inspired Mr Chitthiwala to evolve this wonderful scheme in the Damn Rich Tribunal which would not just grant relief to distressed borrowers but would simultaneously give a fillip to the ailing real estate industry.

As a happy by-product, it would also provide a permanent source of income to his kith and kin after his retirement!

By letting out all the flats post-retirement, Chitthiwala and all his near and dear ones lived happily ever after like those kings we used to hear about in the fairy tales of our childhoods.

As he drove past his several acquisitions on a windy day during the monsoon, Mr Chitthiwala saw huge cutouts of the Great Leader beaming at him from every lamppost within eyesight.

Stopping due to a red traffic light, Chitthiwala stared reverentially at his beaming icon and understood that enigmatic smile to mean that his role model was pleased that at least some intelligent and enterprising people had put his 'Make in Fake Country' and 'Ease of Doing Business' principles into practice!

A drizzle commenced.

An urchin started tapping on the window of Chitthiwala's car, waking him up from his little reverie. The urchin was begging for alms in tattered clothes.

"Too bad these children are never exposed to the vision of our inspirational leader," thought Chitthiwala.

Then, as soon as the traffic light turned green, he sped away from the begging child. Chitthiwala was convinced that despite all odds, some day in the Golden Future promised by the Great Leader, Fake Country would reach great heights if it continued to be blessed with the dynamic leadership of this leader. Wishes would be horses and beggars would be kings!

The next morning, as Chitthiwala had sat sipping his coffee, 'Breaking News' on television reported that a cut-out of the Great Leader had fallen on a street urchin at a traffic light due to heavy rains accompanied by gusty winds the previous evening and killed him instantly.

Media channels of Fake Country, being meticulous reporters of facts, also faithfully reported that the cut-out of the Great Leader had survived the fall upon the street urchin and had escaped unhurt.

Raju Moray writes a regular column for The Leaflet, titled 'Adalat Antics'.

If you love the smell of paper along with spicy satire and the ring of laughter, Raju Moray's new book Tales of Law & Laughter is out now.