Keya Sarkar: A lesson in execution

Since Santiniketan is very close to the Jharkhand border (a two-hour drive), there is a sizeable population of migrants from the state, and from Chhattisgarh and Bihar. They are all referred to as “Biharis” by Bengalis. Since my childhood, it was a known fact that Biharis are much better at manual labour than Bengalis. So, when I first arrived in Santiniketan 10 years ago, I thought I must look for a Bihari lady to give me a daily massage.

I didn’t have to look too far because Gauri, the lady who came twice a week to clean our bathrooms, said she was up for the job. I employed her immediately, and I have never had any reason to regret my decision. But my mother was the most unhappy. She said if I let a woman who cleaned toilets give me a massage, I might end up with skin infections. I reasoned with her, saying all my time in Mumbai, I cleaned my bathroom myself and my skin was fine, so this fear from a secondary source was probably misplaced.

Over the years, I gained a lot in bodily bliss, and so did she — besides the extra money she earned, she had a captive listener. As I oohed in ecstasy, she told me about her financial worries, her elder son who needed to be married off, the younger one who refused to go to school, and whether she needed to listen to her sister-in-law after her husband’s death, and whether the guest houses she worked for were paying her enough.

Recently, she told me that the man who came to take the electric meter reading had noted that the meter had stopped functioning, and he could not, therefore, give her a bill. She was worried that if the meter was not fixed, she might one day get a bill with an exorbitant amount. I told her to ask her elder son to go to the electricity office and lodge a complaint. Like most women who know they are more efficient than the men at home, she brushed aside my advice and decided to go herself.

I, however, suggested that she carried a letter and put in her complaint in writing. I printed a letter in duplicate and told her that she should keep a copy with a stamp of the electricity office as proof of her complaint. But having had the experience of changing my non-functioning meter last year, I knew she was embarking on a path of bureaucratic intricacies that her simple mind may not may be able to fathom.

However, despite the fact that Gauri is uneducated, she is one of the most professional workers I know. In her punctuality and her ability to keep track of the money due to her at the end of the month, she was as good as – or better – than many I have worked with in my career in the corporate sector.

I was taken by surprise the next day when she arrived and told me that “it was done”. Her meter had been changed. She said she handed the paper to an officer and told him that she works and is, therefore, not home all the time, so it was imperative that he gave her a specific time for when the new meter would be installed. I thought of the many times that I had been through this routine for washing machines, Aquaguards and refrigerators with mechanics who have barely paid attention.

The officer sent a man back with Gauri, and the meter was changed within an hour. Gauri was so pleased that she conceded to a demand for a “bashkish”. She admitted to having paid Rs 50.