Office office

Sat, Aug 2 01:00 AM

We've heard all those horror stories of how files take three years to move from one table to the next in government offices. As with all horror stories, I thought they always happened to someone else - until I went for admission to a Masters course in DU. My friends warned me how getting admission into a PG course in DU is more difficult than scoring enough to qualify in the first place.

But I took it as a mere instance of crying wolf. "It can't take more than a couple of hours," I thought to myself.

Wrong. I reached there to find students locked in a tussle with authorities - some form or the other had been misplaced, because of which their names were missing from the admission list.

Phew! I was among the lucky ones; my name was on the list. I took my place in a queue that seemed to stretch till eternity.

Half-an-hour later, the queue had not budged an inch. I went ahead to inspect what was wrong.

Bad decision. Coming back, I found I'd been displaced by five girls in a state of hyper-excitement.

Having aged almost two hours, I finally made it to the doorstep of the room we were queuing outside. It was a moment of thrill possibly to rival that of Sushmita Sen's Miss Universe win.

I could feel an invisible crown on my head. At last, I was in! I had spoken to myself too soon.

On the verge of putting my foot inside the door, I was overtaken by a six foot-ish guy built like a truck. As on the road, you don't protest against trucks in DU queues, even when they are grossly unfair.

However, a bunch of girls behind me did object. The truck reversed.

"Victory," we all thought, but the big guy wouldn't give up. He got a 40-something staffer to let him go in before others.

Anyhow, I finally made it inside - only to be told that it was lunch-time! One gruelling hour later - all of it spent in the queue, either standing or slumped on the floor - the office gods returned, gave me their blessings in the form of a stamp and asked me to visit yet another office. Just how many offices did I visit in the entire day? I've lost count, but now know what Sisyphus must have felt like.

And my reward for this toil - having my name spelt wrong by an official who didn't seem to think it mattered all that much. From now on, call me Rahul Sabhrwal.

What's in an 'A'?.

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