Promotion and Perfume: The Humorous Tale of Dubey Sahib

Ah, the sweet smell of success—unless it smells like women’s perfume. Gather ’round, dear readers, for a tale of promotions, perfumed predicaments, and the charming Dubey Sahib.

Dubey Sahib was finally enjoying the fruits of his labour, basking in the warm glow of congratulations after being promoted to Manager. For those who had known him since he first started at the bank, this was nothing short of miraculous. When Dubey joined the bank all those years ago, we all thought he would retire as a diligent but unremarkable clerk. Yet, as the bank began to expand, opening new branches at an impressive pace, so too did Dubey’s career prospects blossom. It was almost as if the very growth of the bank was lifting him along with it.

First, Dubey was promoted to sub-officer. It was a step that made us all nod in approval, as it seemed like a natural progression. Then, almost inevitably, he was nudged into the manager’s chair. On that fateful day, it felt like the stars had aligned perfectly for Dubey Sahib. Perhaps that’s why the congratulations flowed so freely. But while Dubey might have been the sub-manager at work, at home, Mrs. Dubey reigned supreme as the General Manager.

With the new position came the need for a new wardrobe. So, off to the market went Mr. and Mrs. Dubey, like a duo straight out of a sitcom. Mrs. Dubey, with the precision of a drill sergeant and the eye of a fashion designer, selected new shirts, pants, shoes, and even some pristine white handkerchiefs for her newly minted manager. Dubey Sahib, a lover of tranquillity, would much rather have avoided the hustle and bustle of the market. His motto was simple and unwavering: “Haste makes waste.”

In those early days, Dubey would leave the house long before the bank opened, driving his trusty old scooter with the care of someone transporting precious cargo. His approach to office work was just as slow and steady, preferring to avoid any unnecessary rush. Now, with his promotion, he had upgraded to a car. But true to form, he drove it as if every day were a leisurely Sunday drive, never venturing beyond third gear.

The first day at the new branch was a momentous occasion. To mark it, Mrs. Dubey prepared a sumptuous halwa, rich with cashews, almonds, and raisins. She fed him lovingly, packed a large box for his colleagues, and insisted that he wear perfume. Ah, the perfume. Little did anyone know; that this would be the source of the day’s adventure.

The morning at the new branch started with a small, cheerful meeting. Greetings and smiles abounded. Among the welcoming faces were two women, Kiran and Urmila, who greeted the new manager with polite enthusiasm. Dubey Sahib returned home that evening, recounting the day’s events to his General Manager—er, wife—with a satisfied sigh.

The second day, however, brought a twist worthy of a sitcom episode. After lunch, Urmila, the lady clerk, knocked on the cabin door.

“Sir, you’re from the Amroha branch, right?” she asked.

“Yes,” replied Dubey Sahib.

“Sir, I was posted there five years ago.”

“Ah, I see. I went there last year and came here after my promotion.”

“Who is at home?” she inquired, continuing the casual conversation.

“The wife and me. Our daughter is married.”

“Okay, okay. Sir, Kiran and I were talking, and I thought I should tell you something. Do you mind?”

“Not at all, go ahead.”

“Sir, the perfume you used yesterday… it’s, um, women’s perfume.”

“Oh,” said Dubey Sahib, his face the very picture of realization.

From that day on, Dubey Sahib was never seen—or smelled—wearing perfume again. What happened that night at Dubey Nivas remains a mystery, but let’s just say Mrs. Dubey’s managerial skills likely extended beyond the bank.

As for us, we gave Urmila quite the ribbing for her part in this fragrant fiasco. Ah, the adventures of Dubey Sahib—the man who rose through the ranks but stumbled over a spritz of perfume. Life at the bank would never be the same.

And so, dear readers, the story of Dubey Sahib serves as a humorous reminder that sometimes, in the pursuit of success, we may encounter unexpected bumps—or in this case, unexpected scents.