santwana

Rebati and her resignation Her tired fingers tapped the keyboard mechanically on the old Remington typewriter. It was almost 3 in the afternoon and she waited impatiently for the tea boy. She looked at the heap of papers on her table waiting to be typed, mostly miscellaneous letters drafted by the clerks and office assistants in awfully incorrect English and horrible spelling. So much so that at times she almost doubted her own knowledge of the language, until a glance at the Webster dictionary that she keeps handy, resolves her doubt. Mr Bakshi, her departmental boss had very cleverly shifted the task of correcting the grammar and spelling to this obedient worker, without tacitly acknowledging her contribution. Mr Bakshi prided himself to be a very efficient office master utilizing to the optimum the qualities of staffers without giving any recognition or extra benefit to the deserving. But all staffers were not as docile as she was and Mr Bakshi had to be very careful while picking the names of the trouble makers , both the efficient and the worthless alike, for recommending to the higher authorities. He was basically peace loving and timid and though sometimes conscience pricked but he had to ignore as he was to run the office and that was no matter of joke, he told himself, cleanly wiping out the stains of guilt. Mr Bakshi himself did not have much of an intellect and his belief that she was not in the know of how very helpful she was in clearing those garbage day in day out was not correct. Like Bakshi, she also realized that without her help he would never be able to check, clear and sign all those letters and with her somewhat unique sense of duty and responsibility she thought it natural that her boss should be spared so that he may attend to more important matters.