Of Being Important and being the Main Man!

You always wanted to be an important man. You prayed to God and as luck would have it, God agreed to that. Ok, almost did that!

So here you were, in a profession where you became the locally available, affordable, approachable and still reasonably acceptable Chief Guest for various occasions. You were invited as Chief Guest in local book festivals, you were called to preside over at cultural events and then you were cutting ribbons at Puja pandals.

The people who invite you are humble, respectful and they make your life miserable to ensure there is Chief Guest at their event. They forward Good morning messages along with hoaxes on whatsapp, send Facebook requests and ask when they meet next why you were yet to accept that and call thrice a day to verify that you haven’t yet changed your mind. You get nightmares of being K..K..K..K Kiran from movie Darr being stalked by Shahrukh Khan.

You want the event to get over quickly and commit the mistake of reaching on time. Even organisers are surprised/disappointed to see that. They have been wrongfully denied the opportunity to call you couple of more times.

You are given a warm welcome by showering flowers as it befits a worthy Chief Guest. Slowly the soft flowers give way to Marigold petals and showering get converted to throwing them with force on your poor self. Some kids relish at hitting bulls eye and soon there is a barrage of hitting petals on your eyes, neck and your head. You feel the pointed petals sticking on your sweating self and finding way to strange corners of your body and you rush towards the dais to save yourself.

There you realise that the organisers did not trust you all this time. There is a horde of back up Chief Guests occupying the dais. The number of people on your side exceed those sitting in front as spectators and you feel like volunteering to sit in front but hold on. You also wonder how round table inaugurations would be perfectly workable in such scenarios and would also save the cost of a dais.  

You want this ordeal to end but there is one co-chief guest yet to arrive and you wait on and on and curse yourself for arriving on time.  You make small talk with person sitting next and share their concern about weather, politics and academic future of their child. You stretch your cheeks to portray how privileged you are to sit on this side of the dais.

To the relief of all, program finally begins and the announcer starts by eulogising about their organisation, its history and importance of this event. You now know that in the history of mankind, there never was or will be an event more important. Then the announcer turns her attention on your kind self. You discover virtues you never had and learn about your accomplishments in life. If you happen to share your name with a person who topped IAS exactly fifteen years back (Anurag Srivastava, IAS, 1992), you always got credited for that. You feel like you are betraying them as Chief Guest.

You are dying to finish this fast and rush along with others to light the auspicious lamp to ceremonially inaugurate the event. They have put a nicely decorated beautiful lamp stand but nobody thought they may need a matchstick to light that. A kind soul discreetly brings out a cigarette lighter but the lamp has a mind of its own and takes its time to comply. It is followed by a cultural performance which is not bad but you stare at the back of the performer as she was facing the crowd.

The speeches begin and go on and on and since you are the chief guest, you get the privilege to speak at last. In the meantime, you have thought about this article’s draft, checked your social media messages myriads of time and you also found yourself napping a couple of times. Suddenly your name is announced and you rush towards the podium. As you hold the mike, you have forgotten the name of this event but you vaguely remember what it is all about. Also, you were haunted by their calls but now you do not recall name of any organiser. You mumble few words about how great this event was, how great were its organisers and basically how great all of us are. You thank them for considering you worthy of this job but you only see yawning faces in front, as bored as you are.

The organisers still diligently clap when you end. You want to run away but they are profusely thankful that you could make it to the event and hold you on for a cup of tea. There you are made to swallow a plate full of desserts (read calories) and you promise to yourself that you will not commit this mistake ever again in your life.

Next day you commit yourself to another event.

PS: This is an exaggerated version of all what actually goes around. The writer, who incidentally is a District Magistrate, is profusely thankful to all the organisers who ever thought him to be worthy of being Chief Guest at their event :)