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Bob’s Banter: Baksheesh For the Loot

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]t was a huge petrol station my driver drove up to. All the pumps have four or five cars waiting their turn. I watch the car that is about to be filled.
After he had blown his horn a million times an attendant walks up and looks at him. It’s like he’s asking what the car driver had driven up for, “Sir what do you want?”
“Petrol! Ah, sir you have come to the right place. Sugar is down the road, rice on the next street but petrol you can get here!”
After supposedly exchanging these pleasantries the attendant puts the pipe in then walks off to have a chat with his colleagues. The driver in front of our car finds that his tank is full and shouts to the attendant who waves to him, holds the plastic cup of tea from which he sips his chai and continues sipping his tea.
Behind this charade all the cars wait. Patiently, helplessly.
I look at the huge petrol pump. I imagine the day it was opened. The owner standing near this huge outlet and telling his family, “We will be able to fill dozens of vehicles at one time! Nobody will have to wait!”
And that is how this country operates!
The best constitution in the world but rogues get away because the law takes a hundred years to be enforced! Good highways; no discipline as a rickshaw straddles the middle of the road and blocks all other traffic. Ironed khaki uniforms; corrupt, lazy policemen!
A huge army; inefficient, money making officers!
My car finally reaches the pump. I look at the attendant after he fills my car.
“Sir,” says my driver, ” he says you didn’t give him a baksheesh last Diwali! Sir! Sir! Where are you going. No don’t hit him sir, he only asked for his tip!”
I return to my car, restrained by the cool voice of my driver. I think of our nation, our politicians who after looting the country want their baksheesh: that of coming back to power even after all the destruction they have done. We drive away. I look back, a dozen cars are now parked in the huge petrol pump while he goes for another cup of tea!
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