This is something I wanted to write for a long time, but just never did, though I have recounted this many a time in my life.
The year was 1989. I had just started my career as a Hindustan Petroleum Sales Officer in charge of Coimbatore Sales Area, in charge of Petrol Stations, Kerosene and LPG Dealers and supporting more than 100 Direct Customers. I was just 25 and took over the area which has always seen 50 plus guys as Sales officer for a long time.
I had 36 Petrol Stations under me with Coimbatore as base and branching to Udumalpet in one direction and Avanashipalayam in another direction, also covering the high selling Tirupur Belt. A key objective given to me was to ensure two Petrol Stations closed for financial reasons be reopened - Naga Auto Service, Chinnayampalayam and Shivalya Enterprises, Oonjavalampatti. Both were allocated to Socially backward people, as per the then Government Policy. The selection was done by Oil Selection Board, a body comprising of Senior Professionals from IOC, HPC and BPC, and the Petroleum Ministry.
Both these Petrol Pumps were commissioned in mid 1980's and by 1989 were non-operative. Regional Office of HPCL considered it a top priority that no Sales Outlets were kept closed. It was sacrilege.
Naga Auto Service, Chinnayampalayam issue was different and couldn't be solved easily as the Dealer was supposed to resign his Government job on getting the Dealership which he promised, but didn't do.
I turned my attention to Shivalaya Enterprises, situated in the outskirts of Pollachi town, on the road to Udumalaipet. My data and enquiries revealed that the dealer Natarajan was a young guy, educated and has run into financial problems. He hailed from Udumalpet. I proceeded to Udumalpet, and asked my elderly dealer there to get Natarajan to meet me. He was patient but adamant that he wont take the initiative. I was surprised, as the Dealer was a Sathwik by nature. I told him to send one of his staff to Natarajan's house with a message to see me. The staff was aghast at the suggestion. I couldn't understand what was going on. After much cajoling they told me that Natarajan belongs to a very low caste, and neither the dealer or his staff would even dream of going to his 'cheri' (slum). This was one of my first exposure to casteism as an adult.
I told them to send a staff with me to near Natarajan's cheri, and then he can go off. They couldn't believe that me, a Brahmin, would visit that place!!. But HP Sales Officers wish cannot be brushed away, as for a dealer, we were everything. Reluctantly they asked the youngest of their staff, a boy of 15, to take me to the outskirts of the cheri. It was raining. The boy took me to within 500 mts of the cheri, and ran away. I ploughed my way through puddles, pigs, open drainage to a small hut. Word spread that HP Officer has come for Natarajan, and the people were plain hostile. The hut was small, and there was a small cobblers kiosk outside, as depicted in the picture, but much smaller. An old man, bent due to hours of sitting in the kiosk, with worry written large on his face, stood up with reverence and started crying "Sir, don't do anything to my son. He is innocent". His wife and daughter joined him and were in tears. It took me a while to comfort them with the news that I was there to help Natarajan, and have not come to harm him. Once they were assured, they became extremely hospitable. They were very very very poor. By magic a chair came from nowhere, and a 'colour' was ordered for me - the highest honour they give to a VIP. They hesitantly asked whether I minded drinking colour if it was offered to me. When I nodded in affirmation, they were astonished, for they never thought a Brahmin would accept food from their house. Casteism at its worst. They were treated as outcastes.
The people of the Cheri surrounded me, and I was a bit embarrassed. I enquired them about Natarajan, and was told that he was in hiding from debtors, as he owed more than Rs 4 Lakhs, a fortune those days. They assured that he will meet me in the Hotel I was staying in Udumalpet that evening.
I took leave of those nice people, who were wearing torn and soiled clothes, poverty written all over and wondered why, after so many years of independence, these people had to live a life that was not fit even for animals. They had no water, electricity, steady income. And it also set me thinking "How did the Oil Selection Board" ever give the Dealership to a person from such background and expect him to successfully run the business?
The story continues in Part 2.................................
