The woman with a strong footing

THE lives of seemingly ordinary people can be a source of many an inspiring tale if one looks deeper into them. This is the story of a colleague who, despite a very short association, left an indelible impression upon me.

In 2007, I was working as Additional Director in the Anti-Corruption Bureau of Gujarat when I was asked to hold the additional charge of Inspector General of Prisons. The position had fallen vacant, and the government could not post a regular incumbent immediately.

After assuming charge, I called the head clerk of the office to discuss a matter. A few minutes later, a woman of about 55 walked into my office with an exaggerated limp in one leg. She introduced herself. Having noticed her disability, I asked her to take a chair. However, she kept standing, holding the edge of the other side of the large desk for support till we had finished the brief discussion. Then she left.

That was my first encounter with her. I had to call her sometimes to discuss one matter or another. On each occasion, I would offer her a seat, but she would keep standing, holding the corner of my table or the backrest of a chair.

One day, it struck me that she did not take a seat because the other staff members weren’t offered any and she didn’t want any concession on account of her disability. I felt bad that I did not sense it earlier, and never offered her a seat again.

Gradually, I came to know that she was aware of the personal circumstances of each staff member in the office. So, whenever I had to decide about someone’s leave, transfer or some such matter, she would put before me the human side of the case — details which are vital but cannot be brought on record. It helped me in taking an appropriate decision.

I also came to know her story. She was born in a well-to-do family and was the eldest of five siblings. She was barely 15 when her father died and the family fell upon bad times. Taking up odd jobs, she not only completed her own education but also brought up her younger brothers and sisters. She settled them all in life and they had come to occupy respectable positions in society.

It was only after she had put her siblings on the right course that she thought of her own marriage and found a partner. Her two children — a boy and a girl — had grown up. Both were pursuing careers of their choice and were settled in family life. All she looked forward to was a quiet retirement so that she could devote her free time to religious activities.

My stint in that office lasted only a couple of months, but whenever I recall her, a ripple of unease passes through my conscience. How could I think that a woman, who had helped so many of her family members find their feet, needed the concession of a seat on account of her disability?