IT was the summer of 2013 when I was heading the main branch of a leading public sector bank in Shimla. I had joined the bank upon my posting there in November 2012. The office was housed in a bank-owned heritage building strategically located on Mall Road, near the Kali Bari Temple and the Army Training Command (ARTRAC).
Every year, a Summer Festival was held in the first week of June at the iconic Ridge by the Shimla administration. The tradition continues to this day. I remember it used to be a two- or three-day affair filled with cultural programmes featuring singing, dance and musical performances. The programme would start in the evening when the sun had gone down. The evenings would be very pleasant and the entire atmosphere would be filled with enthusiasm and excitement. Large crowds would throng the Ridge to be a part of the festival.
The organisers used to approach my bank every year to be one of the sponsors of the event. That year too, the organisers met me (as I was the head of the branch) with the proposal of sponsoring the show. Sponsorship involved a donation on our part in lieu of which bank’s publicity material was to be displayed at the event. Following the precedent, I agreed to the proposal immediately and donated Rs 50,000 on behalf of the bank out of the funds earmarked for Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) activities. A few days later, I received a couple of VIP passes from the organisers as a mark of courtesy.
As June is the peak of summer in the plains, some guests were staying with us to escape the heat. My house in Shimla used to be a favourite sojourn for my friends and relatives. Armed with VIP passes, I took along my guests to the venue with a sense of pride. I boasted to my guests about the impending privilege of sitting in the front rows.
Upon reaching the Ridge, we found a big enclosure erected for the festival. There was a stage at one end. There were two entrances — the first one leading to the front rows and the other leading to the back rows of chairs. Behind the rows of chairs in the enclosure, the spectators without passes could watch the performances from the open areas.
Flaunting VIP passes, we approached the first entrance meant for front rows. We were stopped by security personnel who examined our passes. We were told to go to the second entrance for back-row seats. I protested, saying that we had VIP passes. He explained that the front rows of sofas were reserved for the VVIP-pass holders. He even signalled towards a placard marked ‘VVIP’ at the first entrance. The VIP-pass holders were directed to the chairs in the back rows.
I was crestfallen. The sense of being VIP was shattered. I sulked the entire evening for not having been given VVIP passes.
The author is a Panchkula-based freelance writer
