Suresh Rai, Commercial Manager
Suresh Rai, Commercial Manager
In the rigid colonial hierarchy of 1970s Dubai’s Chartered Bank, Suresh Rai navigates bureaucracy, overdrafts, and empire with wit, colour, and quiet authority. But when a young newcomer faces the risk of deportation and the loss of his future, Suresh steps beyond job titles and bank protocol — recovering a passport, and with it, rewriting a destiny. An accurate tale of loyalty, risk, and the power of one man’s influence in a world that rarely notices men like him.
Inthe grand colonial theatre that was the Chartered Bank, Dubai, Suresh Rai played a role that defied description. His official title: Commercial Manager. What that meant in practice was anyone’s guess — but if you asked him, he’d shrug modestly and then fix the entire overdraft portfolio before lunch.
The bank itself operated like a British boarding school with ledgers. At the top, the Manager, a Brit with spectacles that twitched with authority. Then came the Accountant (also British), followed by the sunburnt Officers (also British), Assistant Officers, Clerks, and finally, the Peons — or farashs. The farashs were the only ones who truly knew where everything was, but were paid to forget it.
In the midst of this ordered chaos sat Suresh Rai, the senior-most Asian officer, fluent in English, Hindi, and Arabic. He dressed like a Bollywood character actor: bold jackets in mustard and maroon, flared trousers and a smile that made you feel everything would work out.
Each morning, he sat beside the Accountant to inspect the NCR399’s freshly spat-out overdraft report, commenting sagely as if reading palms. If accounts were out of line, he would disappear in his orange Mercedes 230, only to return by midday with cheques, apologies, and overdrafts miraculously regularised.
But for all his skill in overdraft diplomacy, it was an act of quiet heroism that would etch him forever in the memory of one young man.
This young fellow — who recently defected from the Dubai Inter-Continental Hotel’s front desk — had ambitions that extended well beyond hotel lobbies and front desk duties. In April, he’d landed in Dubai on a two-year hotel contract. By August, he had his sights on the Chartered Bank. And against all odds, he’d nailed the interview with Barry Northrop, the British Accountant who liked a sharp shirt and a sharper tongue. A $900 salary sealed the deal. The future was calling.
Only problem? The hotel wasn’t letting go.
In the 1970s, in Dubai, breaking an employment contract meant exile. Six-month bans, passport seizures, bureaucratic red tape — all designed to keep workers tethered like livestock in a very modern barn. The hotel held his passport. The law was not on his side.
Undeterred, the lad worked both jobs for a month. Bank by day, hotel by night, burning the candle at both ends and using the flame to light ambition. He dropped to 47kg, gained $1000, and a very real appreciation for naps on shared taxis.
When the situation came to a head, Barry escalated the matter. But it was Suresh Rai who delivered.
One hot afternoon, Suresh turned to the young man and said, “Come, we go now.” No explanation. Just that gleaming orange Mercedes and an air of mysterious authority. It was the lad’s first-ever ride in a Mercedes automobile.
They drove through Dubai’s humming streets to the head office of the hotel. Suresh stepped in, spoke rapid Arabic, gestured minimally, and smiled generously. Within minutes — not hours, not days — the young man was clutching his passport, a look of stunned disbelief on his face.
No threats. No paperwork. Just Suresh Rai, fluent in the unspoken language of influence.
The bank filed for the new visa immediately. Suresh had retrieved the lad’s passport even before the hotel had filed for his landing visa. And from that day on, that young man’s passport has remained in his pocket — never again locked away in a hotel drawer. A small freedom, perhaps. But in that era, in that place, it was everything.
If anyone had asked the Manager that week what Suresh Rai had done, he might’ve said, “Suresh? Capital fellow. Keeps the natives in line.”
But to one young man, Suresh Rai had done something far greater:
He gave him back his future, with a passport returned so swiftly, it left no trace of the job he was meant to escape.
Subscribe to my stories https://djayasi.medium.com/subscribe
Comments
Post a Comment