Ha, finally the Indian female personal secretary has made it to the front page, all thanks to Union minister Farooq Abdullah. Brings back memories. Years back, I was the pioneer in the field. Fathered by the one and only Mario Miranda, I was the page one pocket toon ‘oomph’ girl in the pink Economic Times and quickly became the favourite pin-up girl of corporate heads, financial wizards, business journalists and even dhoti-clad netas who drooled over me. My ‘boss’, leery gleam in his eye and cigarette dangling from lips, had a hold over me. I would never let him go or betray him. Now here is where Farooq saab went wrong—or perhaps the world of Sandras from Bandra or Bettys from Byculla serving their bosses faithfully has changed dramatically.
So sad Indian men are getting it from everywhere. The lechers needed it but as I see it, a bit of innocent flirting harmed no one. It had to be done in style and sophistication though. Farooq saab was wrong in fearing that he’d land up in jail over a sexual harassment complaint by a personal secretary (PS). A genuine PS would never stoop to that level. How many times has that jewel among private secretaries, Della Street, been prepared to go to jail to save her boss, lawyer Perry Mason, from stupid policemen like sergeant Holcomb and DA Hamilton Burger. My memory has faded but Farooq saab should read Case of the Substitute Face or Case of the Lame Canary. But again these men and women had style, they took the stairs, avoiding elevators most of the time. The girls knew how to keep the wolves away....
Coming back to my PS days, I knew well why Boss hired me. I was the ornament in his office. I knew his moods, learnt to adjust to them and was ready to pack and leave for a weekend with him. Secretaries in those days did not go to office or travel at short notice carrying with them a copy of the Indian Penal Code. We did not even know that terms like sexual harassment existed. People were more understanding or why should a business daily carry me everyday on page 1. The guardians of public morality did not make a hue and cry about Miss Fonseca being an insult to Indian culture and tradition even on occasions when my hemline had risen a bit and neckline plunged a bit too low. Most girls did flirt but knew where and when to draw the line. We had great book reviews but no litfests where liquor and porn flowed freely and orgasm and ‘clitpower’ were key literary issues. Oh, come on, we did not run around complaining to each and everyone, hogging media space and seeking solace from women emancipators who were so strongly armed in virtue that menfolk ran away from them! Would they ever confess that that was in fact their major complaint?
The Mumbai-based satirist is the creator of ‘Trishanku’; E-mail your secret diarist: vgangadhar70 AT gmail.com
