Neta ji tames Master ji

Subhash Mathur

Subhash Mathur was born and brought up in small towns in Rajasthan. During his school and college education at Jaipur, he was keenly involved in sports, journalism and public speaking. His civil services career has given him a platform for spreading his ideas about modernising tax administration to benefit the common man. Post retirement he is devoting his energies, along with his wife Tilak, to public and humane causes.

                                                     Neta ji tames Master ji

I was a retired maths teacher from a Govt school, Tehsil Bansur, District Alwar in Rajasthan.

I was living a staid life with my youngish wife Savita 55.

My father had left behind a self-contained two-bedroom cum study house with drawing dining and a modern kitchen. It had two modern washrooms as well with a sit-out in the backyard

 Savita and I lived a peaceful life in this mansion of ours. By I mean me that is Murari Mal Jangid but universally known as Murari Masterji or just plain and simple Masterji.

Our married daughter Kamala lived close by in Tijara.

Our son was due to pass out as a Mechanical engineer from an Engineering college in Sikar shortly.

Once in a while, some students from the nearby schools would drop in for guidance. Else it was a placid life.  

In simple words we were living a quiet and peaceful life, content with our circumstances.

.But it was too good to last. Something had to give.

And it sure did!

A phone call on my landline from Netaji a former student shattered my peace for all times to come.

Simply put, Netaji proposed that Masterji should agree to be a candidate for the Assembly elections from Bansur on Temple Janata party symbol – a Cheetah couple looking up to the sky.

I outright refused but the damage had been done.

As I feared Forever!

Netaji never accepted a ‘no’ from anyone even while he was in school. I didn’t expect any better now.

Netaji was very adamant. Even teachers used to dread his outbursts as he was fond of using pejoratives in between his harangues.

But for reasons which I could not never fathom Netaji respected me a lot.

I also reciprocated his sentiments by putting in some effort to make him clear Matric.

Netaji left the school as Surendra  Mal Gujjar alias ‘Netaji’, Matric passed in his Fourth attempt.

Big title.

Collectively the school breathed a sigh of immense relief.

With disdain, Netaji not only did not accept my ‘No’ but sent 7 of his staunch supporters the next day to take my signatures on the form to become a candidate of the Temple party for Vidhan Sabha.

The Fab 7 cajoled, persuaded, argued, and mildly threatened but left my house only after ‘I had voluntarily signed up’.

I spoke loudly to myself: ‘Yaar it's okay that I have signed up but I will never stir out of the house and thereby forfeit my deposit’.


Surprisingly Netaji accepted all my ‘harsh’ conditions except that I had to leave the house for tendering the form before the Returning officer.

So I signed.

And surprisingly I went back to my humdrum life except for following the election news more closely in the local papers.

ONe shortly thereafter many banners with my photo suddenly appeared in the city. Some posters were plastered in public places. I got these pulled down on an ASAP basis by talking to the local head of the Temple party.

True to his words Netaji asked me to attend functions outside my house only twice –once to deposit my nomination papers and another time to meet the Party President Nathu Lal ji who was passing through Bansur.

Midway through the campaign wife Savita candidly gave me her clear-cut assessment - that I had less than a 1 percent chance of polling more than 1k votes and a 100 percent chance of forfeiting my security deposit.

Her assessment came based on the collective wisdom of her two Kitty groups.

Hail the Kitties of the World!

Lord! How do they know everything?

I didn’t disagree with Savita but I was secretly and fondly hoping for more – like in ‘Yeh dil manage more’.

From time to time I reminded myself that the two big gun political parties were also in the fray.

That thought sobered me down a lot.

But surprisingly the secular political space in Rajasthan had been captured by AAP.

As the campaign intensified local newspapers began to identify me as ‘as a candidate with a decent chance ’.

I scoffed at these reports because I knew better.

But the Exit polls took us by surprise. My name was at the number three position from Bansur.

Savita again told me with crystal clear clarity ‘Murari Lal Masterji stop dreaming. Stay close to reality and live with your eyes open.

These women. They don’t let one dream and stay puFFed up even for a few hours.

On the counting day, Savita and I had gone to Alwar to attend the marriage celebrations of a close relative and were oblivious to the trends.

I was very pretty sure that I didn’t stand a chance. The gap was far too much to cover up with the front runners.

But once again a call from who else but Netaji shattered my composure and my peace.

Excitedly, he informed me that I was leading the count and the President of the party would be speaking to me shortly.

Be available. Don’t switch off.

How have the fortunes changed so dramatically?

Notorious  Netaji was lording over his almost virtuous maths teacher Masterji!

Sure enough, I won.

Should I celebrate? I opted for the quiet route.

But peace was shattered shortly when the local leaders and supporters of the Temple party descended upon my house dancing to DJ dizzy tunes like ‘ Naatu Naatu’ , Lungi dance, etc.

With the excitement growing every second Savita abandoned her stiff upper lip and called up the local Halwai, Bholu, and ordered mounds of Sweets and Samosas and tons of tea.

After my initial reluctance, I too capitulated and danced away to Glory. And surprisingly Savita joined me with gay abandon.

In front of our house. 

After all, one doesn’t become a MLA every day. And for a poor Master, it was Kingdom Come.

For the curious, I won by 1947 votes.

Overall the Temple party won 13 seats and became a dominant player in govt formation.

Netaji went gaga as I was his choice. On the third day, he sent a car Dezire for me to travel to Jaipur for as he put it ‘consultations’.

In reality, the bargaining over ministerial berths had begun.

Right royally I was lodged in a ‘suite’ in the Circuit House.

By the time I realized the import of these talks, it became crystal clear that I had been shortlisted to be a Junior Minister.

Now that I was ‘I was in the game’ I called up Savita from the car itself from my brand new Samsung Galaxy A 34 gifted by Netaji that very afternoon.

‘Get ready to shift to Jaipur and live in a sprawling bungalow with huge lawns I told Savita. And much else.’

Savita as usual was skeptical but by evening my name had been announced as a Minister of State with Independent charge.

All doubts were removed. Even for Savita.

By now I had learned the rules of the game. Make a ludicrous demand and watch how quickly it's fulfilled.

I asked for a better ‘suite’ and sure enough I was upgraded to a two-bedroom 'suite' in a Four Star hotel.

I asked for a better car and promptly a Suziki Invicto was placed at my disposal.

I even got the portfolio I wanted.

Once the fuss was over at  the Raj Bhavan I drove  over in Invicto with Savita and the children to my office and gingerly sat down in the chair in the spacious chambers of the Minister with the Title


Add new comment