Run an errand and become a crorepati

My friend was qualified enough -perhaps more qualified than necessary-to rival the several bosses he served. But as it usually happens, overqualified persons have their Achilles' heels and coupled with their arrogance, hubris, egotism and eccentricity (which they are hardly aware of), they end up on the wrong side of life's deals. He has known the many vicissitudes of a turbulent life. Yet to the credit of Kislu, he has not turned a morose; his lust for life is endless. Experiences have taught him to be an epitome of patience, particularly to his wife who spares no effort and chance to hurt his feeling and point out what he should have done but could not do-the greatest failure of his life. Notwithstanding his many failures, he surprisingly has the uncanny ability to crack jokes about himself. Providence has many surprises for us. One such surprise stored for me or Kislu is that after my retirement from a well-paid government job, I and Kislu suddenly discover ourselves in the same section of a private firm after decades. This time the job is part-time for both of us. Kislu likes the job because of the liberal atmosphere of the office and the boss is quite caring. Kislu has endeared himself with the boss on account of his straight-forward and uncomplicated demeanour. Smooth-sailing and stable as Kislu's life appeared to me at last, I felt quite happy for him. But I was mistaken or was I? One day my friend came to the office and asked our boss to run errands for him instead of the pen-pushing we both were doing there. Kislu insisted he would no longer do the job he used to do. Says he, "Please, boss, let me run an errand for you". Surprised, the boss says, "What's wrong with you, man?" Just then I entered the scene and the boss burst into laughter, saying, "Look, Mr Ray, what your friend is saying". When I was told of Kislu's queer proposal, we both had a hearty laugh. But Kislu looked serious. He did not even smile. We wondered what Kislu was up to. In fact, he was seething with rage. After repeated urgings, though, what my disconsolate friend put forward as a reason behind his choice for running errands dispelled our confusion. One Sumon Howlader at the age of only 30 has, according to a report published in a Bangla daily, become a crorepati (possessing a fortune of Tk 10 million, if not more) by just running errands for the customs office of the Dhaka Export Processing Zone (DEPZ). Foot-formash in Bangla is no dignified job. Moreover, Sumon did the job of an errand-boy without wage or remuneration. Whatever little was offered to him by customs officials was enough for him to be a crorepati over a period of 10 years. This is what Kislu finds outrageous. The boss and I were no longer laughing. If one can become a crorepati simply by taking orders for chores from customs officials and earning tips in the process, why not follow the man's example? The inevitable question that follows, how much do the officials on the regular payroll earn? Kislu with no stable service records in his entire life had never aspired to hold high positions and become filthy rich because of the unavoidable temptations for unearned money involved once again sets his eyes on the modest gains from running errands. But Kislu misses the point by miles as he fails to consider that running errands for customs officials and doing the same for the CEO of a private firm are completely two different propositions. Kislu's problem is he goes beside himself when he comes across stories like this. He is yet to learn how to compromise on matters involving corruption, greed and social degeneration. After all, he was a freedom fighter.