<p>Way back in 1958, I was in Makeevka, a metallurgical centre in the Ukraine region of the erstwhile Soviet Union, as a trainee of Bhilai steel plant, along with other Indian engineers.</p>.<p>Indo-Soviet friendship being at its glorious peak then, we were privileged and received special treatment. Still, something struck us as extremely odd — a steely string of rigidity that passed through our daily routine.</p>.<p>We were eager to free ourselves from the rigours of the training and visit other cities to see more of Russian life. We accordingly raised our request that was politely turned down by the concerned authorities.</p>.<p>Our colleague, Tripati, a self-proclaimed Gandhian, came up with a plan: Why not stage a <span class="italic">dharna</span> to shake the ‘iron curtain’ and achieve our objective? This appealed to all.</p>.<p>The next morning, we assembled in the dining hall as Tripati, with all the aplomb befitting a rebel leader, grimly signalled us to sit silently at our tables. In came the beaming waitresses with our steaming breakfast and the customary, but gentle, ‘Dobra Voothra’ (Good Morning). All hell broke loose when they watched us just sitting like statues without even so much as looking at the delicious servings. “Is there anything wrong?” they asked nervously. “We are not going to eat….We are on ‘dharna’!” boomed Tripati.</p>.<p>That was enough to trigger a flurry of activities — worried looks, nervous discussions among the hostel staff, followed by a spate of telephone talks. Soon, the chief of the steel plant arrived, accompanied by his PR staff, anxiety writ large on their faces.</p>.<p>“Anything wrong with the food quality?” they queried.</p>.<p>“I repeat we are on ‘dharna’!” rang Tripati’s stern voice. The chief looked at the interpreter who anxiously turned the pages of the English-Russian dictionary and shook his head, as he had not found the word ‘dharna’ there!</p>.<p>“You won’t find it in the dictionary…we are on ‘dharna’ because you are not letting us visit other cities,” declared Tripati triumphantly. We waited with bated breath expecting a stern put down. To our dismay, the chief and his staff burst into a relieved smile!</p>.<p>“Oh, that? We have already arranged your sightseeing visit to Moscow, Leningrad and Kiev,” said the chief looking relaxed and amused.</p>.<p>“I see! Why did you not tell us this earlier?” demanded a peeved Tripati.</p>.<p>“We didn’t think it necessary then. Now, you know!” the chief regained his authoritative air.</p>.<p>“Okay… then we are breaking our fast!” declared Tripati. </p>.<p>“Please remember one thing, dear Comrades,” said the chief before leaving, “The next time you decide on doing this, tell us in advance; we shall close the restaurant during that period….we don’t waste food here!”</p>
<p>Way back in 1958, I was in Makeevka, a metallurgical centre in the Ukraine region of the erstwhile Soviet Union, as a trainee of Bhilai steel plant, along with other Indian engineers.</p>.<p>Indo-Soviet friendship being at its glorious peak then, we were privileged and received special treatment. Still, something struck us as extremely odd — a steely string of rigidity that passed through our daily routine.</p>.<p>We were eager to free ourselves from the rigours of the training and visit other cities to see more of Russian life. We accordingly raised our request that was politely turned down by the concerned authorities.</p>.<p>Our colleague, Tripati, a self-proclaimed Gandhian, came up with a plan: Why not stage a <span class="italic">dharna</span> to shake the ‘iron curtain’ and achieve our objective? This appealed to all.</p>.<p>The next morning, we assembled in the dining hall as Tripati, with all the aplomb befitting a rebel leader, grimly signalled us to sit silently at our tables. In came the beaming waitresses with our steaming breakfast and the customary, but gentle, ‘Dobra Voothra’ (Good Morning). All hell broke loose when they watched us just sitting like statues without even so much as looking at the delicious servings. “Is there anything wrong?” they asked nervously. “We are not going to eat….We are on ‘dharna’!” boomed Tripati.</p>.<p>That was enough to trigger a flurry of activities — worried looks, nervous discussions among the hostel staff, followed by a spate of telephone talks. Soon, the chief of the steel plant arrived, accompanied by his PR staff, anxiety writ large on their faces.</p>.<p>“Anything wrong with the food quality?” they queried.</p>.<p>“I repeat we are on ‘dharna’!” rang Tripati’s stern voice. The chief looked at the interpreter who anxiously turned the pages of the English-Russian dictionary and shook his head, as he had not found the word ‘dharna’ there!</p>.<p>“You won’t find it in the dictionary…we are on ‘dharna’ because you are not letting us visit other cities,” declared Tripati triumphantly. We waited with bated breath expecting a stern put down. To our dismay, the chief and his staff burst into a relieved smile!</p>.<p>“Oh, that? We have already arranged your sightseeing visit to Moscow, Leningrad and Kiev,” said the chief looking relaxed and amused.</p>.<p>“I see! Why did you not tell us this earlier?” demanded a peeved Tripati.</p>.<p>“We didn’t think it necessary then. Now, you know!” the chief regained his authoritative air.</p>.<p>“Okay… then we are breaking our fast!” declared Tripati. </p>.<p>“Please remember one thing, dear Comrades,” said the chief before leaving, “The next time you decide on doing this, tell us in advance; we shall close the restaurant during that period….we don’t waste food here!”</p>