A Well-Wisher

An unexpected visitor suddenly entered into my office. I stood up from my chair as soon as I saw him. He was an important political heavy weight who I had known since the war of liberation.

"Mr. Abedin, what a pleasant surprise!" I said to the visitor while shaking his hand and asked him to sit down. Mr. Abedin was not alone; he had seven other companions who all squeezed into my tiny office. There only two chairs, so the other companions left the room.

"I am seeing you after more than two months," I said to Mr. Abedin while he sat down. I asked the office bearer to bring us some tea.

This was March 1972. I was a Section Chief in the government of newly independent Bangladesh. I belonged to the then East Pakistan Civil Service. I had gone over to India and worked for the government of Bangladesh in exile (Mujibnagar). I had heard that the government would be rewarding officials like me who had crossed with two years of ante dated seniority. I was not very excited about it as I was happy being a Section Chief, an office I could not have acquired under normal circumstances in such a short time.

I came to know Mr. Abedin while working with the freedom fighters in the border area of Sylhet. Although not a Member of the Parliament, Mr. Abedin carried a lot of political clout among other political leaders. He had a large band of followers in the party. I had a good relationship with him.

Mr. Abedin looked around my small office and said, "I see you have not had a promotion yet. But why, everyone in the Army has been promoted," he asked rhetorically.

"They are lucky in the Army unlike us," I said.

Mr. Abedin seemed to reflect on something and said in a casual manner, "I have always supported promotion of civil servants who took part in the war of liberation. Why, even the other day I told so and so (mentioning an influential Minister by name) that it was unfair not to promote people like you". He then gave me a litany of things that he had asked the Minister to do to impress upon me his closeness with the Minister.

Mr. Abedin continued with his speech while sipping tea. "I just returned from Pabna. You cannot imagine what devastation the Pakistan Army had caused there. On top, our liberating force from across the border also plundered whatever was left. All roads, all bridges, everything has been destroyed. People rose up in arms to defend the country, now they will rise to build the country," Mr. Abedin declared emphatically.

I asked Mr. Abedin if he would like another cup, and he nodded his head. In such conversations it is customary to ply an important visitor with tea. A visitor will always judge how well he has been received by the quantity of tea served to him. I was aware of that.

A fresh cup of tea arrived. Mr. Abedin took it eagerly, and asked me in a low tone, "Why don't you come to Pabna as Deputy Commissioner? I can request the Minister to send you there, if you want to."

"Deputy Commissioner of Pabna?" I was taken by complete surprise. "I cannot become a Deputy Commissioner just like that? This is several steps beyond my grade," I said to him.

Mr. Abedin dismissed my protests. "Leave aside the grade rules. These bureaucratic rules are not for a revolutionary government" he said. "We have brought about independence not to follow these archaic colonial rules. Promotions should not be based on seniority in service any more," Mr. Abedin declared in a huff. I kept quiet.

In a few minutes, however, with a dramatic drop of voice Mr. Abedin softly asked me, "Then come as Sub Divisional Officer of Serajganj."

Now this was my turn to be shocked. In less than an hour Mr. Abedin's offer had dropped from the lofty position of Deputy Commissioner to a mere Sub Divisional Officer! But all these were mere talk, and therefore I was not really bothered.

Suddenly Mr. Abedin looked at his wrist watch and said rather excitedly, "Oh God, this is already eleven thirty! I have an appointment with the Communications Minister. I have to arrange a trip for him to Serajganj."

He then added, "You know how things are. It is so difficult to see a Minister these days. I had gone to see him this morning. But he is always surrounded by people, all hangers on seeking favor. I came to your office as I was unable to see him."

"Why don't you ask the Home Minister to restrict visitors to the Secretariat? That should free up the Ministers' time," I suggested rather sardonically.

"But will that be fair?" Mr. Abedin asked. "That would also create a problem. People do need to come to the Secretariat to lobby the Ministers and Secretaries for their work. How would they do it if they cannot come?" 

Mr. Abedin left his chair and moved to the door. But in a sudden gesture he turned back as though he had suddenly remembered something.

"Look I have said many things to you because I consider you as a close friend, and because I am well- wisher. What I said is only for your consumption." Then in a conspiratorial gesture he looked around and thrust a little paper in my hand. "This is the file number of an abandoned property case that I am interested in. The file is about to come to you. I have already spoken with the Joint Secretary and the Secretary. They will support my case. All you have to do is agree with the proposal and send it up."

"You will do it, no? After all I am your well- wisher." He left the office smiling and I held on to the note he gave me with the file number. Can I say no to the proposal? He said he was my well-wisher, but more importantly he was also a political heavy weight who knew my bosses well!