Pension Sarees and Security Blankets

                                                           For 2011 : 

V. was my mother's friend.

A thin, frail lady, with a hugely strong mind, she was a teacher in government schools when I was a child, and spent almost all her working life, at postings in far out rural areas in the state. She had lost her husband early on in life, had a daughter, and both of them would set up house wherever she had a posting, and the young girl would attend the local school. Whenever such a school didn't exist, she would stay on with relatives in a place where there was a school, or travel big distances. Back in the 50's and 60's , society did not look upon favourably on 2 women saying alone in way out places, that ran mostly on the say of the local big chap, who invariably went into politics to further his clout. V was invariably transferred frequently, till at the fag end of her career she settled in Pune. Prudent savings and careful investments along with a sparse lifestyle allowed V to get her daughter married , and she too lived in Pune.

We were in school then, and many afternoons and evenings were spent in V's small flat, doing drawings, and learning different techniques, while she made delicious snacks for us to enjoy after the "class"; her daughter would always admire our work (regardless of how ordinary it was) , whenever she happened to drop by. V was always interested in our academic achievements, always had little prizes for us when young, and this attitude continued well into her old age, even after I got married and had children. (After which I was roundly ignored, naturally).

After a lifetime of being a government teacher , predominantly having worked in rural areas, V was given the run around before her pension kicked in. She spent 15 years chasing her pension papers, as various offices would throw up their hands and say the papers were at some other office, for some one's signature. It almost became a project for my mother and V, and there was this multi year effort, when they would go meet some official who looked like he understood the problem, promise to do stuff, and then nothing would happen. We stayed in Mumbai , and since it is the state capital, V came and stayed with us during her various visits, and my mother became an integral part of her Pension campaign.

Many people advised that things would move faster if money exchanged hands, but this angered V and my mother, who continued sending letters , reminders, copies of required certificates and stuff, to no avail. Well into her seventies, I once heard V laughingly tell my mother, that even if she was desperate enough to agree to "paying money" to get things moving, she didn't have a clue how one went about it ; what euphemisms did you use, how did the clerk understand, or did a frail lady in her 70's , developing a cataract, simply land up and the table of some clerk, and ask him out for a tea ?

The pathos was overwhelming. A woman, widowed early on, faithfully teaches entire generations of rural children in school, without complaining of the facilities, often non existent, cajoling parents to send their daughters to school, lives a very sparse and prudent life, and now finds humor in visions of herself trying to ask a clerk out for tea, so her papers will move .

Thanks to a relentless chasing up of papers through offices, her pension was finally operative, with arrears, and she celebrated by going out with my mother, her faithful ally through all this, and buying her a wonderful cotton saree, which was always referred by all of us as the Pension saree, and frequently worn by my mother. There was so much more in it besides cloth.


In the early 90's V passed away. Today both V and my mother are no more, but V's daughter , a mathematics professor, and I are in frequent touch, and spend many enjoyable moments remembering the older ladies and their friendship.

Why am I telling all this ?


Because that was what came to mind when I read the most shameful and preposterous news about the Members of the Indian Parliament voting themselves , a 3 fold raise ( in place of a-wished-for 5 fold raise), the government dilly dallying in view of possible public outrage, in a season when all the news is about corruption, and the entire ruling party and opposition MP's uniting as never before to see this thing through. After an initial hesitation, the High Command of the ruling party has spoken in favour of the raise, and the rest, as they say, will "meekly" fall in line.

The things that angers me the most is that any MP with a single 5 year term and nothing more, is entitled to a lifetime pension, with his spouse getting 50% after his death.

And what has the MP done ?

Being a political goonda(bully) is probably a prerequisite for being elected. The more scruples you lack, the more bright your future is. If you have a wife, son or daughter capable of supporting you in all your questionable endeavors, you are supremely qualified.


Gets elected, by fudging qualifications, cheating on educational qualifications, possibly age, and declaring his assets which seem to all be in his wife's name. Funded by vested interests who cash in their IOU's once this guy is elected.

He then spends time in the Capital, fighting for more and more luxurious accommodation, asking pointed questions in Parliament often for a consideration, participates in junkets to foreign countries basically to learn nothing but enjoying the high life. His time in the august chambers of Parliament is spent nodding and chitchatting on some back bench, that is, when he is not staging a walkout along with his party leaders.

Occasionally, he feels he needs a change from all that sedentary life, and he gets up and runs down to the well of the House to shout slogans at the speaker, along with several of his party colleagues. Some even stage a sleep-in on the floor, and given their considerable weight, need several marshals to carry them out.

The more enterprising folks rip out microphones, and fling them at the opposition, unconcerned about their aim. In life as well as in Parliament.


In the meanwhile, some (read Laloo), are shameless enough to oppose the 33% Womens' Reservation Bill, and use that as an excuse to canvass for enhanced Pension (no doubt a result of enhanced salary and perks) , because now their places will be occupied by women if the Bill is passed. They openly trade their votes for power and money, and no one gets caught, simply because no one is chased.


Five years of doing this, living at subsidized rates, devaluing the country , and the guy is rewarded with a lifetime pension. We wont get into benefits for spouses on the death of the MP. Sometimes there are more than one. I mean spouses, not benefits. Shhhh.


And so I remembered V and my mother, and that fight to get her rightful pension, after a lifetime of educating the nation's children in rural areas.

When my mother passed away, the Pension saree had reached a state of wonderful softness, often seen in greatly loved cotton sarees, which are worn often and bring a great sense of comfort to both the mind and body. On winter visits to Pune, we would often use her old soft cotton sarees to line the winter blankets from inside.

Today, there are not too many winter visits, because there is no one to visit. The Pension saree is one of my prized possessions today, both for the memories it carries, as well as the softness of its protection.

Its not just a piece of cloth.


It gives me a sense of hope, that at some point, things in this country will change. People with some scruples and principles will be respected. There will be the greatest concern for the common man or woman. There will come a time when I will, hopefully look UP in respect, to the people who purport to rule us.

Its almost like my Security Blanket.