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Margilla Hills, the serenity, magnificent buildings and cordial interaction with security forces: Welcome to the Pakistan Secretariat, Islamabad. I love this place.
Once inside, I expect a young lady at the reception, with everlasting broad smile to say formal welcome. Stop right there Mr. Shah. How dare you imagine of a modern impressive work force inside the nation's daily grind center. My subconscious spoke. And for a while the world around me appeared very similar. Yes I have been here before, a voice from within shouted. It is the post office in my village. But wait I am in Islamabad!!! Ah the uniformity and standardized culture of our nation's public service institutions has taken my breath away.
While I am inquiring about the concerned office and officer over a narrow wooden reception desk, an old aged man dressed in Shalwar Kamiz, almost stretching on the guazed chair gives me the direction as he points towards the ceiling saying 2nd floor.
Shining tiles, 3 adjacent elevators without traffic (I wish we had this at our university although we had 1 but it remained packed at rush hours), clean corridor and the office, bang we are inside.
Two men sat over a table with PC on it. A fragrance I am well acquainted with, that of a library room. A thick and warm air with mixture of smell of bundle of books. The office walls are packed with files, hundreds of thousands of piles. The loose cupboard doors are open and inside it one sees the profuse files protruding through the door. The leftover bundles get piled on top of the cupboard reaching the roof top. Still leftover along with new ones put on a layer of dust as they rest peacefully on the floor .
By looking at the varying shade of the files you can easily tell which files are there since the creation of the country and those added recently. This is so depressing, at university library at least we had colorful tags at the books to capture our attention, but here its the unlimited white, gray and brown layers of files.
An intelligent young man wearing wasket over a creamy kameez, siting on the traditional office chair across a table covered with green shawl under a transparent glass with pages surrounding him is our final encounter (me and a colleague). He is very polite. He takes a minute to start dialogue when he gets interrupted by the office assistant. He very carefully and slowly starts writing a note which is probably addressing another colleague to complete an agreement made earlier. Once back to us we have to remind him what he was talking about. He accedes and before proceeding gets confused with all the files and pages on his table. He again inquires if they are ours but then remembers himself and puts them in place.
Well, finally a sweet chit chat and a professional scrutiny of the documentation. He is good at it as he is good at seeking opportunity for 'free lunch or stay' through contacts. By now we are cursing ourselves for being indulged in an affair with the public sector institution and pray and literally get ready to "pay" what ever it takes to get us out of the affair. And, a 10 minutes meeting gets extended to 1 hr 30 minutes gup shup.
Did I say 2 mice ran into us during our discussion? Okay, they backed off as if saying sorry for interruption but its already 4:30pm. Nevertheless, interesting statistics: Government of Pakistan has so far spent Rs. 50 Million to clean sweep mouse population from the vicinity of Parliament house and Secretariat. The black fat creatures still rule.
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