You can always find him in the labyrinths of gloomy Sarkari offices. His demeanor is demure, yet he radiates arrogance and indifference. He is always buried nose deep in files that are dustier than the surface of Mars. His brooding face and sulking jawline speak volumes of the sarees and petticoats belonging to the Missus he had to scrub and twist in the morning. His languorous fingers tap the table as he carefully assesses every passing homo sapien. Welcome to the world of Sarkari Damad!
Life of a Sarkari damad is not that easy! His mornings start with incessant rambling and screeching of his walking alarm clock, that is his wife of twenty years.The lady had bought him from the flea market of his city once upon a time, when she was slim and well-shaped. Her sole aim in life from day one has been to make the life of our damad miserable with her demands, that tower higher than the Eiffel. She laughs her head off as our Government Mapillai toils in his own house sweeping, mopping and slogging it out. He sweats and scrapes, as she fans her non existent hair, swinging in the jhula.
The morning's free milk supply comes from the dhoodhwallah who got his two bigha land registered bribing our damad. As he milks the cow, dhoodhwallah is lost in his past, reminiscing the day he was doomed- the day damad pushed him into a tight corner, flashing his awful pan-painted teeth. A file pushed out of damad's table can cost anything, from free milk to free newspaper, free wall paper to free toilet paper. As he poops in his freebie closet, imagination running around his steno whom he ogles at every other day, the free tissue paper roll withers at the rot he exudes of. He stinks of 'free' 'something' as he lathers his soap- a 'gift' from the neighborhood supermarket chain. One floor of building permit skirted around gives a lifetime of free soap and cosmetics to our damad. And mind you, it is just not any soap- only Dove that has moisturizer, damad has to keep his palms greased all the time, you see...
The free 'brut' perfume ensnares the brute to no end. NRI 'customers' of the damad see to it that our damad fogs his butt with brut force! The Missus doesn't lag behind the damad. Her groceries are always free from the neighborhood shop. Her vegetables are free. Her haircut is free. Her pet dog is free. Her manicure and pedicure too are courtesy of our damad's clients. The higher the rank of the damad, the larger the size of the missus. The damad being an officer is a privilege to the missus. Mrs.Officer shops till she drops at any random saree shop and coolly walks off without an inkling of that ugly word called the "BILL".
Talking of damads and who would forget gold? Damads are always gold crazy. Do you look for gold in his neck and fingers? No no no...don't ever risk looking there. All the gold is stashed in his molars. You have to pry open the lion's mouth for a peek at the gold capped molars, as our damad never dares to smile. Damad's breakfast and lunch are 'sponsored' by some poor caterer who is in dire need of catering contracts. Damad conducts 'surprise quality checks' to fish out dishes that he salivates by merely looking at. The Missus loves jewelry shopping, blabbing her way through necklaces, of how her husband is so condescending with his EQ allotment for premier trains! Making charges and wastage go down the drain, traded in for a few AC berths on Sunday nights:)
Damad's shirts come with multiple hidden pockets that he dutifully remembers. Separate folders for different accounts. He regards his prey with cool precision, hunts him down and latches on to his wallet like a leech. The mantra here is 'stay cool and stay focused'. No amount of threatening, pen cameras or cajoling work with the damad. He reserves his 'million dollar' smile only for one man- Gandhi. The larger the Gandhi, the broader the smile, the faster your job gets done with the damad.
As his head hits the pillow every night, yes, you heard that right- pillow, not the double-bed sized missus, he reminisces the day's collection. The free chaais, free vadas, free masala dosas, free magazines, free perfumes, complimentary sweets, free air tickets, fully paid family holidays abroad and the free soaps dance in his eyes. As he snores away peacefully, the Man Above chuckles and says- " Sarkari damad hai! Chalo...chalta hai!"
p.s.: Please translate "sarkari damad" as "Government Mapillai";) Keeps the fun quotient few notches higher!
p.p.s.: Sorry about the shockingly truthful post, Mr. Damad. This post is aimed directly at your non-existent heart.
p.p.p.s.: Happy Independence Day to everyone. Let us fight corruption with all our might this year too, like all them earlier years...2G...kya G? :P
Thanks a ton, Ramanathan...and welcome to my blog!Delete
Hope is eternal in people's hearts that things would change for the better when sarkari damad turns into sarkari sevak.
KP...wishful thinking :P Nothing will change in near future...Delete
I like the term government Mapilai...seen quite a lot of them in my Mom's office..she works in the income tax department :PReplyDelete
Thanks Red...Wondering how your mom put up for so long with these mapillais;)Delete
Hahaha.. That was so funny ! :D :DReplyDelete
I seriously want to send it to every corrupt government officer I know
Thanks a ton dear Ritika :) Welcome to my blog. Why not mail it to the damads you know? ;)Delete
It's a misplaced conception that life is happy for these govt. damads. Surrounded by their own tribe, they have their own problems too!ReplyDelete
Hahaha! Yeah, DI...everyone has their own bag of troubles :)Delete
An entertaining take on the most useless person in our system. At least he served one purpose.ReplyDelete