by Habib Khan, Quetta: Within the first couple of years of my joining the Cadbury’s at Hub, the factory manager retired, and the company decided not to replace him. Instead, the managing director, stationed at Karachi would personally oversee the performances of the departments of the factory. However, one problem remained: who would be the “Nominated factory manager”? Obviously, the managing director, being a “gora” (a foreigner), would not be the one to take the fall (or go to jail) in case of an issue with the authorities.
So, who would it be?
Finally, the responsibility was bestowed upon me, the thinnest neck available.
I pleaded that I was already overworked, looking after both Engineering and EHS, and that there were others who had nothing to do but play cards on their computers and could easily handle the responsibility. However, my pleas fell on deaf ears.
So, I had to start attending labor court hearings, which wasn’t a problem for me, as I already had adequate experience with courts and hearings from my student days.
I also had to attend meetings with other factory owners, which proved to be a productive experience, as it gave me a firsthand opportunity to assess the mental caliber of our industrialists.
So, there was no extra botheration until one day I received a summon from the NAB (National Accountability Bureau) in Quetta, asking me to appear before the court and prove the receipt of the 80 bicycles, a grant given to the workers in the past by the labor department. An attachment showed an affirmation from the ex-factory manager stating that the 80 bicycles had been received. However, upon checking the records, I found that only 13 bicycles had been given to the workers. So, I took the records and applied for an airline ticket to Quetta. Unfortunately, by that time even the gora was replaced by a brown sahib, and no one bothered to reply to my request or even acknowledge my verbal pleas. Despite this, I still had some motivation to visit Quetta, my hometown, and see my parents. So, I decided to bear the expense myself and set off to appear before the NAB court in Quetta.
I had thought that I would encounter the ex-factory manager during the case, but I was astonished to discover that not even a summon had been issued to him.
The saddest moment came when I saw the accused from the labor department – a low-ranking clerk, while the directors, managers, and officers responsible for the scam went scot-free. What a travesty of justice!
The person who had signed for the 80 bicycles was not held accountable, and those who had embezzled the funds for the 67 bicycles were not prosecuted. Instead, a hapless grade-8 clerk was scapegoated. I thought to myself, ‘They can’t possibly punish a clerk; he’s not a decision-maker.’ I expected the court to summon the real culprits in the next hearing, but nothing of the sort happened.
The poor clerk was sentenced to 7 years in prison. Such is the state of justice in this land, where the truly guilty enjoy promotions, and the person who signed a false letter for the receipt of 80 bicycles was not even summoned, yet an innocent clerk was given a seven-year sentence.
I wish “Manto” was alive to write a satire on this type of justice, at least as a nominal compensation for the unfortunate clerk, who I heard died not long after being release from the prison.
Whenever I tell this story to my friends they tell me to shut up and stop complaining and instead be grateful that you were not put behind the bars for 14 years for stealing the 67 bikes 5 years before joining the company!
I have no option but to agree; anything could have happened in Mumlikat-e-khudadad.
