One of the perks (or
perils?) of working in the IT sector is the frequent visits to overseas
locations to meet clients or your teams or be part of sales presentations etc.,
It is quite exhilarating in the initial days but gets weary as years roll by.
My second avatar in IT industry was full of such travels and needless to add, I
have had interesting experiences to narrate. When I look back on all those
travels over the 15 odd years, the one that shook me literally and causes
nightmares even now was on one of my frequent trips to Malaysia.
I don’t particularly enjoy
these short overseas trips. You lose the entire night’s sleep and land up early
in the morning at the destination. You have to wait at the Hotel for rooms to
be cleaned up red eyed for your name to be called. For obvious reasons we are
not allowed to book rooms from the previous night. And you hardly get any time
to shower, get ready and be in office for the meeting or the presentation. So,
I try to get as much sleep as possible in the flight and generally don’t engage
in conversations with those sitting next to me.
On this occasion, though,
the chap sitting next to me did not look like a business traveler but some sort
of “labourer”, I guessed. As we were nearing Kuala Lumpur, he sought my help to
fill in the immigration form. He said his name was “Ramar” and that he was
going for “Work”. When I checked his visa status it was a business visa for one
week. He had a return ticket as well. I was stunned and asked him how he
managed to clear immigration! Those authorities are supposed to restrain such “labourers”
from travelling abroad without proper work visa. I was genuinely concerned and
asked him who will come to meet him at the airport. He took out a cigarette
packet cover (yes, I am not exaggerating!) and showed me a number scribbled on
it and said that he would call this number on arrival. I was dumbfounded.
On alighting, I went ahead
to the immigration queue and saw my friend Ramar being escorted to another
room. I was definite that he would be sent back. As I was collecting my
luggage, I saw Ramar coming, with a beaming smile! The immigration at KL were
also no better! It was too much for me to handle for a night. He sought my help
to call the number on the cigarette cover. And, yes you guessed it right, no
one responded. Now I was stuck with Ramar. He would not let me go pleading with me to take him along!
I reached KL in a taxi with
Ramar in tow. On reaching the hotel, I got his agent’s number in Chennai and
blasted him for sending an innocent man like this to a foreign land. The agent
promised me that someone would pick him up before the evening and gave him a restaurant’s
details. I had a presentation. So, I walked across to an Indian restaurant,
where I normally have food, and requested the owner to allow Ramar to be there
till that evening. One of the advantages of frequent travel, is you also build
relationship and the owner was an extremely friendly person. I left Ramar there
and went about my business. I completely forgot about Ramar.
I returned that evening and
went back to the restaurant. And there was Ramar, still clutching his bag, his
only possession, and looking at me anxiously. The owner said no one had
contacted till then. I began to panic as I did not know what to do. I again
requested the owner to give Ramar some food and accommodation till next
morning. He readily obliged; God bless him. The next morning, I told Ramar that
he should consider getting back to India by the next flight as he had a return
ticket and he should forget his “Phoren” dreams. I went to work and came back
that evening. The restaurant owner, gave me the dreadful news. He told me that
Ramar had paid an agent Rs. 80,000/= after selling his measly possession of
lands in his native village and come here and cannot go back. He had no option
but to commit suicide. The restaurant owner was also panicking now and asked me
to do something.
A salesman is always a
salesman. The salesman in me, took over, and I pleaded with the restaurant
owner to give him a job in the restaurant, although it was illegal. He was also
of Indian origin and I played the Indian card to the hilt. After much persuasion,
he agreed and so my friend Ramar became a server in the restaurant! My colleagues
in KL made fun of me saying that I had influence even in Malaysia! On return to
India, I called the agent and blasted him and threatened him to report to
Police. Of course, it was only to let out my frustration. I also called Ramar’s
wife in Trichy and told her that her husband was safely “employed” in Malaysia!
On looking back, I am not sure whether I was stupid to get involved in such situations,
which could have got ugly, but then being who I am, I could not walk away!
Why this story now?
I see hundreds of workers
returning from the Gulf countries. It is sad because most of their entire life’s
savings were spent to go there dreaming of a better life for their family. All
that is shattered. How will they find employment here? What can the Government
do? Having seen their plight in many such countries, my heart bleeds for them
and their families.
And when I went to KL after
about 2 months, the restaurant owner told me that Ramar, now wiser and more
experienced, had left the job and had gone into the hinterland! I do not know
what happened to him. But there are still such Ramars among us who have dreams
of an overseas job and a future that could be worthwhile! How sad that this is
not the reality. It is also unfortunate that more countries are turning out to
be a mirage even for our educated class!
When will we create an egalitarian Bharath where every citizen can live with dignity and be true to
himself and achieve his potential? Only time alone can answer!
