I was being dropped home by the chauffeur of a corporate boss. By the force of a journalist's inquisitiveness and partly to utilise the commuting time, I casually asked him how the vehicle plying in this north Indian city happened to be bearing the registration number of a southern state?
"Sir, this car belongs to P-17 Baba who is studying in a school in that state. Currently, he is here on a vacation to meet his parents and other family members," the smart, uniformed chauffeur replied with absolute ease and without blinking.
"What do you mean by P-17 Baba?" I asked him. Quick came the reply with the same ease on these lines,"Sir, he is Rohit Baba, son of P-7 Sir who is the youngest of the three brothers - P-2 Sir, P-4 Sir and P-7 Sir - who own this business empire."
I was foxed, wondering whether I was hearing him properly. For a moment, I doubted my comprehension capability. Then I bluntly told him that I was not an intelligent being and needed to know what this number business was all about.
He gave me a smile and like a teacher explained that all the members in the large joint family had been given numbers in the descending order of their age. P denoted their common family surname.
They were known and addressed as such within their large family and business establishment. The coded IDs were not meant for outsiders!
It was hard to believe but the chauffeur insisted that many low ranking employees did not know the names of their bosses. And they were not expected to know.
Referring to them by name might be considered disrespectful. They had to make-do with the allotted numbers. I was told that in-house notes and files were marked to numbers, not names.
"Who is P-1 in the hierarchy?" I asked. Pat came the reply, "Mataji, the grand old lady, mother of the P brothers." I was told that the last of the numbers was allotted to the youngest member in the hierarchy.
Any newborn would get a number in the same way. And what would happen to a number if its allottee pops off? The driver chose to keep quiet.
By now, my head was nearly reeling. I knew of international jargons like G-8 or G-14 and numbers like S-6, S-9, C-3 given to reserved compartments in trains.
But certainly I could never imagine human beings being branded like this. Did James Bond's number 007 inspire them? What motivated the P family to devise this unusual mode of addressing is unknown.
But seemingly, they were also under the ever increasing pressures on time, space, resources etc in today's complex life that have led to greater dependence on abbreviations and short cuts.
For instance, Hello has been reduced to Hi. In Delhi, like in other metros and big cities, older people have to strain their ears and brain to realise that when their grandchildren say they are going to CP or Defcol, they are referring to Connaught Place, the capital's commercial hub, and Defence Colony.
Undeniably, we are living in fast moving times, eating fast foods, travelling by faster trains and flights. People are racing against time. Otherwise, why would they look at their watch more frequently than ever before!
Nobody has the time to stand and stare. How could the P family of young and middle aged entrepreneurs be an exception and stay away from the newer trends sweeping the society?
Alighting from the car, I realised I was richer with a new experience, courtesy the young man in white uniform. While parting, he gave a pleasant smile when I said: "Thank you C-1, I mean Chauffeur 1."
Lalit Raizada is a journalist based in India.
