THE husband and wife woke up to a comfortably cool room in a well-off but not-so-central part of Lahore. But as they stepped out, they discovered that there had been no power for some time.
Breakfast was over and the day had begun before they finally asked someone in the staff to ask around the neighbourhood about the missing electricity. The electricity meter was gone, discovered the staff. Gone? Yes, gone. Odd, commented one of them, turning to the other. However, both shrugged their shoulders, for in this age of missing people, a missing meter may be strange but is bearable.
The well-connected husband called the sub-divisional officer. Ah — the meter is missing, said the SDO, sounding not surprised. Please look where the missing meter used to be and you will find a small piece of paper. On that paper, there will be a phone number and if you call that number and offer some money, the meter will be returned to you.
And don’t forget to negotiate and beat down the price offered, was the sound advice the SDO gave. He knew the husband personally and wanted to help. But helpful advice is all the officer had to offer.
The husband told his wife the story and, a bit confused, they both sent someone to search for the paper. Sure enough, the paper was found, the number dialled and the call quickly answered.
The voice on the other end asked for a ransom of Rs15,000 for the meter being held hostage. It was quickly beaten down to Rs10,000 to the ‘satisfaction’ of both sides and the amount was transferred using Easypaisa. The person on the other end had provided the details of the means, as well. If there was ever a better advertisement for how digitisation has helped easy transaction, this was it!
Then the couple was given instructions straight out of a treasure hunt. Walk straight out of the gate on to the green belt, take 10 steps one way, an ‘x’ number of steps the other way and dig under the tree right in front. And buried beneath the tree was the meter. Cleaned and brought back, it was reinstalled for another amount and it was a job smoothly and quickly handled.
What to do with men caught stealing? Take them to the police station. But then
‘Jaan bachee toh lakhon payain’, goes the saying, reflecting that all’s well that ends well. And here, it was a case of a meter found and hassle and money saved. The couple thought they could now live happily ever after. (But then, they had thought the same when the children got married and moved out.) However, there’s more. Picture abhi baaqi hai, mere dost.
Late one night, when the meter was still whirring away and the air-conditioner was still running, there was a hesitant knock on the door. It was the same staff member who had been running to and fro when the meter went missing.
There were some men of a well-known security force, founded by a former chief minister, outside the gate. They had caught a man, in the middle of a ‘heinous’ act, they claimed, stealing the gas meter. Now the hardworking men wanted to know what to do.
What to do, asked the husband, half asleep and befuddled. What do they do with men they catch stealing? Take them to the police station (where the innocent men are not taken, for they are simply disappeared). But the men outside the gate, with the culprit held tight, insisted on having a word directly with the man of the house. It was late; they were happy with a phone call and didn’t really want to come in.
But they explained; softhearted men, all of them, they didn’t want to inconvenience the family. If they took the culprit away and registered a case, the meter would also have to be taken into custody. Then it would not be reunited with the home very soon for it would be held as the case went through its various paces. A new meter would have to be bought and this would cost a lot of money. They didn’t want to put the family through all this anguish.
As women tend to be better with signalling and reading between the lines, it was the wife who cut through the chase and the haze of sleepiness and told the husband they wanted money. Give it to them so we can go back to sleep. And hence began another round of negotiations which was settled as amicably as the first.
A similar amount of money was decided upon and handed over, the meter stayed where it was and the hardworking men and the culprit they had caught so adroitly disappeared into the darkness they had emerged from. In the morning, the household people wondered if there ever had been any theft and a thief.
But in the land that is our home, we never let such details interfere with ‘all’s well that ends well’, and this couple had been lucky enough to say this twice. Lightning struck twice and both times they escaped without much damage.
They were not the only ones in the neighbourhood. Someone who lives close by also ended up in a similar predicament where his SDO gave him sane advice, which was also heeded, after some doubts. And he too can now tell a story of how he dug up a meter taken hostage from beneath a tree.
These are not big stories. After all, in a land where the missing or the arrested include the elderly and the women, some innocent and some simply guilty for being related to the wrong person, the case of the missing meters is more comic relief than anything else. Especially when the amounts exchanging hands are not worth the price of a good night’s sleep, for those who can afford it.
But it is worth wondering if this is to be filed under the ‘crackdown’ on electricity theft or the impunity with which the present set-ups are functioning with regard to citizens’ rights.
The writer is a journalist.
Published in Dawn, October 17th, 2023
Source: dawn.com