Come April and I am awash with phone calls from friends and colleagues about how they fared in the annual performance appraisals. Certain lesions of the past rendered unmentionable on this blog due to reasons of propriety, have bestowed the robe of Agony Aunt upon me. I have come to consider the minor hurts and whips delivered on the sly by the hangmen of confidential reports routine and passé. Sometime though, the tug given at the nape is all too fatal and final.
Ensconced in a cane chair in the budding light of daybreak this Saturday, I found my heart leaping as a crow swooped on the stalk of the jamun tree waving faintly in the zephyr across my balcony. Setting aside all ceremonies, he pointed his beak at me and broke into a strident bawl like a molested bassoon. I haven’t quite grown out of my mother’s childhood injunction that a ranting raven on the rooftop at sunrise is a certain harbinger of unannounced guests. Those were the days when middling folks like us mostly didn’t have phones. Postcards ferried to and fro by postmen who looked as though they personally resented every postcard they delivered. Telegrams were reserved for sinister portents.
I suspect our belief in the foresight of these benighted scavengers was not totally unfounded. Perhaps the deluge of signals from omnipresent antennae and satellites has choked their intelligence network nowadays, and they bother us no more with the news of arrivals of friends and family. But I remember how, once in my childhood, within an hour of a crow emptying his air sacs in our courtyard, my maternal uncle materialised at the front door. He nearly fulfilled his long-standing promise of buying me a red bicycle, but my mother vetoed the idea on the grounds that I would promptly challenge traffic to a duel. Undeterred, my uncle calmly upgraded his promise from a bicycle to a 350 cc Royal Enfield Bullet—provided I first grew a moustache. Sadly, my maternal uncle left for his heavenly abode before I could twirl my first moustache.
Samir bears a faint resemblance to my departed uncle. We were colleagues for a while before he joined Orange Bank where fortune has taken turns smiling at and abandoning him. We are living in the same city but we rarely meet, thanks to our impossible work schedules. It is not the raven’s fault either that of all folks today it had to be him.
I saw him emerge from a red car that stopped beneath the tree not long after the crow had had its say. He looked perturbed as he mumbled a weary salute in my direction, his face more swollen than I remembered. Soon he had taken the chair beside mine on the balcony and was unleashing a hail of expletives in honour of his immediate boss.
I have drawn a sketch of his boss in my mind with the inputs he has allowed me to have, apart from the curses and grim adjectives. Somewhere out there lurks a lean, perpetually slouching gentleman carrying an inferiority complex large enough to require its own office, and a hangman’s noose for anyone unfortunate enough to report to him. His ascent to the upper rungs of the system was fuelled entirely by bootlicking rather than ability. He would auction his own family if it promised an early promotion.
In turn, he expects blindfolded obeisance from everyone else down the ladder. His polished appearance is about as authentic as the dark-brown wig he acquired in Hong Kong to conceal a misshapen, balding pate. He cannot tell an asset from a liability in a two-columned balance sheet but he is quick to sort his subordinates into those very classes, based on absence or presence of servitude in their demeanour.
As though reporting to a man with a permanently lit fuse was not punishment enough, Samir chose to correct him during a videoconference with the overseas head office. His boss said nothing. For nearly a month, he said nothing. It was only when the appraisal notes arrived that Samir realised the silence had been taking notes.
The appraisal accomplished what argument could not. Samir’s overseas assignment quietly evaporated. His boss departed for Tokyo. Samir remained where he was. Bureaucracies have an elegant way of restoring the natural order.
Six months ago, the devil returned from Tokyo, and was put in charge of Samir again.
Samir and I sat together for a long time discussing the fifty shades of black ravens can wear. By afternoon we had concluded that while ravens came in many shades, there was always one darker than the rest. The trouble with such ravens is that they never forget where they have perched before. They return every April, carrying an appraisal form where other birds might carry a twig.
One Grain Amongst the Storm 
There are many organisational tools to keep the sub ordinates towing the ‘boss’ line, appraisal being the most sinister of them all.
Wishing your friend good luck.
True that. Methodologies employed can be spine-chilling. But monsters such as those must be checked for the well-being of the organization in the long run.
Now I know the meaning of the phrase “devastatingly beautiful”. This was a stunning portrayal of the maggots of the workplace. I know it’s impossible, but one hopes that your lyrical and plaintive oboe drowns out the raven’s molested bassoon. And since you’re currently playing partly the part of an Agony Aunt, I’d like to say that a few years ago my forty years teaching “career” ended abruptly and mercilessly on an ordinary day with a headmaster employing the same learned government-taught techniques as used by the boss of your friend Samir.
I’m copying and pasting this to my hard drive, Uma, so that if you ever disappear from the blogosphere I will still have it!
Thanks for your kind words, Bruce. I am sorry to learn the maggots the workplace butchered your career too. May the carrion of career-eaters bake in hell. Thanks for storing a portion of my scribblings in the heart of your computer –I’m proud I could make the cut.
You just took me back to those days(in the middle of my summer/winter vacations) when I was bored and really hoped the black bird’s cry brought a visitor. But I don’t recall the birds announcing agony nephews and nieces.
Your bird seems to have brought us a(nother) great piece of writing.
All the best to both of you for the annual judgement day. 🙂
Wow! Glad to know you can relate to that belief. Many thanks for the compliment and the good wishes, Divya!
Brilliant narrative as usual. So lightening did strike twice and as they say, the world isn’t fair. April hangmen are indeed the bane of so many who are destined to carry the yoke of a salaried employment.
Also, it is a small, round world and apparently, it is a lot easier to fall prey to the same wolf twice. You are bang on about the destiny of the salaried class. Thank you, Ash.
I enjoyed the story. You write wonderfully 🙂 keep em coming!Hang it all Uma…tell your friend to forget finance and blissfully ride off on a red bike to join a coven of crows.
Or if he can’t do that remind him that April showers bring May flowers.
Love the wives tale about the crows. Such fun, and sometimes wisdom, in these old sayings.
We are all looking to break free form the stranglehold of the Ebenezer Scrooges of our lives. Thanks for the solace, and enjoying the story.
one of those things that we have all had the worst nightmares around
thank god i am done with it – finally – as I freelance now 🙂
Congratulations on your freedom and all the best for the freelance. Thanks for stopping by, Sujathasathya.
I’m sorry about the situation, but I enjoyed the richness of the writing.
Thank you. Bitter pills are best served honey-glazed.
I have long been known as the lightning rod in organizations – the one who speaks up despite all because it’s not in my nature to be silent in the face of horrible bosses. In fact, I was once given a horoscope that was perfect: “You are the sworn enemy of the stuffed shirt.” I am certainly that. There have been consequences but, for me at least, none as bad as not speaking up.
As always, Uma, your words are honey.
<Sworn enemy of the stuffed shirt! I would be shocked if the astrologer had thought otherwise. I am sure the consequences have polished you into being a precious stone. Thanks for the encouragement, Molly.
“Bitter pills are best served honey-glazed.” Such richness in your writing, even in the comments. A finely-wrought narrative, Uma, which I devoured greedily – despite the darker tone of the subject matter.
Thank you for those kind words, Sandra. I couldn’t stop this one from coming but I am happy you liked it.
Such a fascinating read, so relatable. 🙂
At my current workplace, I have done everything in my power to garner a shitty appraisal. Rebellious, outspoken, unwilling to kiss the boss’s ass – are some of the qualities I am known for. And it is unlikely that I’ll change anytime soon.
I wish you the best, Sir. 🙂
Thank you for enjoying the piece, old friend. The universe needs both yin and yang to keep going. We are all indebted to forces like you for keeping a total rot at abeyance.
Sounds like a nightmare!
Yeah. As bad as it can get.
“भोर होते कांगा पुकारे काहे राम, कौन परदेशी आयेगा मेरे धाम”…..you must have heard this Lataji song! We have Magpies here that sometimes visit and if not an actual visit from someone, I do get a phone call! Anyway, wonderfully written post about your friend. I consider myself really lucky that when my boss at the world’s largest pharmaceutical company did not like me and wanted to get rid of me, and I quote you here (whose ascent to the upper rungs of the system has been fuelled exclusively by bootlicking rather than attributes inherent in him) management had to show that my position was “redundant” and it was a win win situation for both of us. They got what they wanted and I got what I wanted, a very generous pay out and the company’s name on my resume helped.
I feel glad the magpies keep reminding you of the roots you have left behind, gladder that their chatter bring you at least a phone call. That was a win-win story about the severance you received from the atrocious boss: your luck must have been written in golden ink. Thanks for the appreciation and your precious contribution.
Very much enjoyed this rich and unusual prose! Samir’s red car perhaps a glimmer to remind you of the bicycle promised by your departed uncle? Those with power often use it unwisely but the consolation of a good friend makes us remember there is more to life than avoiding the noose of the unqualified hangman.. Thanks for this post!
You are a blessed with a keen eye for the undercurrent in a narrative. And truly, there is more to this world than callous butchers of careers. Many thanks for reading and enjoying, and boosting my confidence.
well, many of your readers will relate to this…
btw how could you always pen a prose like a poetry, I mean its so balanced write up, though I am here after a long gap but good to be here again…great read it was …. 🙂
Sadly, the phenomenon is more common than it should be. Thanks for stopping by.
Umashankar, I feel for your friend Samir and what misery that he has to endure that hangman boss twice! Your description of his boss is devastatingly eloquent! I’ve known a couple of miserable bosses like that in the past. Interesting how Samir somewhat resembles your uncle and turned up at your door in a similar way after you saw the raven. Stories of crows and ravens being messengers have been handed down through different cultures since ancient times. It’s a fascinating mythology.
The process of myths travelling across cultures and times is called ‘diffusion’ in Anthropology. It may sound rather bland but has a wider, deeper significance. Perhaps, in older days, when humans travelled slower than the crows, our inquisitive friends would have enjoyed relaying the news of approaching friends and family. Perhaps they have some sense hitherto unknown to us whereby they can correlate people, miseries and grief. The crow did just that in this case. Many thanks for your precious words.
Office politics make the Hunger Games look like Romper Room.
And that’s all I have to say about that…
You have said it, my friend!
People climb up the ladder mostly by murdering more talented ones. Just a few days ago, I was counseling an IT employee whose boss fears losing his job as the boss is a high cost resource and organisations now are kicking out any one whose salary is high. So this boss dude has been systematically removing all talented guys from the team, lest someone become the boss. HR in most of the organisations, despite a host of tools and appraisal processes, is completely inefficient. Imagine an army whose soldiers and officers are lousy and have survived because they are either bootlicking their superiors or are so inefficient that their boss doest feel threat from them. How will this army fight a battle? Most of the corporates are failing because their HR teams and managers conspire to create a ill equipped and sub-standard workforce.
You have captured in a few words the soul of the malaise. No wonder, the civilisations all over the planet are going drown the drain. I trust rule of the masses, or democracy, has outlived its utility.
This kind is immortal. They have always been, and I don’t see them go.
No, they won’t. They seem to be a vital cog in the greater scheme of things.
Oh i loved everybit of the piece you wrote. I could identify so well with this Samir and the situation he was in with his boss. Beautifully written and brutally honest. love your style of writing and the piece of advise you offered to Samir.
Welcome to my puny canvas, my friend! Your compliment is much appreciated.
Beautiful prose, Uma. Exquisite indeed. I liked how you invoked the belief about crows and childhood memories to talk about bosses and office politics. Astute observation on the way corporates work.
Those lores and beliefs of the childhood have shaped my consciousness. As for the corporate culture, it is nothing but an echo system arisen out of diabolical sensibilities concentrated in one place, no better or worse than the networks of crooks and thugs in the ancient fiefdoms. I am also a unit of the sprawling machinery not because I want it, but rather because of the absence of alternatives. I am more the Nately’s Whore than Milo Minderbinder.
You seem to live in altogether different plane when it comes to express yourself. Your writings are Creative, Pristine and Divine. You sure Lightening doesn’t strike twice ? Ha ha ha,….. nope I can prove you wrong.
Welcome to the joys of life!