1
There was a bit of consternation as to what the officials might say. They were a suspicious bunch these representatives of state. For all we knew, we had our papers in order but if anyone could poke holes in our meticulously crafted story, it was these unassuming gentlemen in this nondescript government building.
They had divided the ream between them. Sheet after sheet was scrutinized and cross-referenced, the officers interrupting each other from time to time over seeming trivialities. With practiced hands they leafed through the two hundred-odd pages of dry legal <stuff> verifying seals, stamps, signatures and counter-signatures while we stood motionless and mute in front of the rickety wooden table.
More than one of us were scrutinizing the faces of the middle-aged bureaucrats hoping to glimpse a premature hint of the fate of our enterprise. They remained impassive, however, until the one in charge pronounced, without so much as lifting his head, that everything seemed to be in order.
Our collective sigh of relief was cut short when he added, "I would like to hang on to this one.", tapping a sheet crisscrossed by a dozen stamps, "I will have it returned to you. For now, you are free to go."
Exiting the building into the fetid Rangoon air, Basu was the first to break the silence. "What did we leave behind?" "The Governor's mandate", came Sufi's reply, swift as ever.
<Couple of directions this story can head:
Revolutionaries making a move, A gang setting up a front, slice of life of businessmen in the Raj>
Revolutionaries making a move, A gang setting up a front, slice of life of businessmen in the Raj>
