Sunday, 22 November 2009

By AMANULLAH TAREEN


Describing neatly or faithfully (depending on your linguistic flavour) life at csa is such a monstrously grueling exercise that I see my inadequacy quite clearly—despite the fact that my vision went blurred on the 7th of January.

This planet, called csa, is peopled by very funny creatures called probationers. 176 species of diverse kingdoms crawl creep and swarm this human inhabitance and go pillaging when reasonable restrictions are placed on them. We have, among other varieties, some outrageously heavy bugs (fortunately from the fair-sex) who bully the weak males into submission as and when required.

CTP, some argue, is a good working definition of Dante’s inferno (hell).CTP teed off on one dismal morning of January,1808 (some two hundred years back).Firstly, we plunged headlong into what is called Foundation course. Some analysts (many probationers came up with dissertation on the said subject) were all praise for foundation course and maintained vociferously that foundation course provided us with everything but foundation. In fact, some believe, drawing on meticulous research, that it shook our foundation and turned us into shapeless entities! At the end of the course, many probationers were seen in liberty market seeking foundation.

The course, despite its failings, threw up a very hilarious character in the shape of English teacher. A Feminized Chomsky, she was the third most widely-quoted source on English language! She was so very well-versed in countless things such as up-to-date fashion, new styles, overblown self-importance, peculiar (read eccentric) style of invariably holding a cold-drink upon her entrance (these suffice to prove her credentials),and many others, except, of course, English itself.

PT was a useless attempt to interfere with bureaucratic lethargy—something that has developed deep roots in our blood. Officers did not turn up for PT except for the few weird ones. Those eccentric ones were rightfully rewarded—they developed ugly bulging bellies. So accentuated were those bellies that one suspected they hid some innocent creatures inside! A typical example is of rauf nasar.

We frequented one spacious building called auditorium. Auditorium is a beautiful place and a breeding ground for future bureaucrats. One of the most widely-quoted definitions of auditorium is (Encyclopedia Probationaria, vol 11, page 703): ‘an excellent place to make up for one’s sleep deficiency—one might have suffered by watching Indian movies to draw implement able recommendations for Pakistan.’ The question of CTP was: Sir, if Parliament can turn males into females, why not CSA? National Finance Commission was a thorny issue and our brilliant officers concluded that the only feasible solution to this National Finance COMMOTION was lottery. In the meanwhile, probationers got a relief when a notification was issued and Majid Lodhi was appointed Director Pollution (instead of anti-pollution), Ministry of environment.

Free-messing was a good laudable step from food security standpoint as our pocket money propagated as salary amounted to a meager 8900. One fellow had voracious (read animal-like) appetite and polished off everything that came his way. He would invest 287 minutes, on an average, per day in mess, would gobble up 2-3 plates at the double and would wolf down 1.5 kg of sweet dish in no time. All items were stuffed into pitch dark, huge, black, tunnel-like, ugly stomach. Unfortunately, the officer was caught red-handed (or orange-handed) one day when he was smuggling six oranges from the mess.

Gulliver’s ship sunk in December, and Gulliver swum ashore to find herself (not himself in this case) in CSA in early January. Gulliver was surprised to see Lilliputians (diminutive creatures) and desired to rule over them. Thus began her career of bossing around diminutive but cultured beings. All Lilliputians, excepting a couple, abhorred Gulliver’s behavior. One fine morning, however, as Gulliver was waking up from anxious dreams, she found that she had turned into a teeny-weeny ant. She couldn’t believe her eyes but had to reconcile herself with this awful reality. Thenceforth, she sought to stay away from human beings in case they might trample on her.

We had four academic subjects. We learnt a good deal in Govt functioning. Functions and powers of ministers-or monsters, ministers without polio-or portfolio and high-profile red-tap specialists formed substantive part of the course. We were instructed to promote a culture that worships official documents and enhances red-tapism.

The diversity in female probationers was astounding. Some were exasperatedly colossal, some were ludicrously thin, and a few had no constitution—at least, beyond my description. Many female probationers are 25 and have, of their own free choice, remained 25 for years. Usually the faces look like wedding cakes left out in the rain. Male probationers believe in applied economics. They talk about outlays and investment in human market. They say make love to every woman you meet. If you get five percent on your outlays, it’s a good investment. Jane Austin is a favorite novelist with probationers. They quotes her saying it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a knife to kill his wife.

The story would not be complete without the episode which follows. We went to Nawabshah, Sindh during our first CST. A dinner was hosted by DPO and Revenue Officer. All officers were given traditional ajraks. One from Sindh, trying to be smart, turned his back towards the host (R.O), got his ajrak, stretched it in a rush and in the process smashed the revenue officer bang on his glasses. Glasses fell and we were trying to hide ourselves under the table.

Nobody of any real culture would despise a fairyland like CSA.