The Protest

The distant sound of protests started getting louder as they approached the gates of the factory premises. Ramachandar Mane was seated at the conference table with his hands on his cheeks deliberating on whether to confront the laborers or not. He had been assigned the duty of placating the protestors with a compromise solution, but he himself was not convinced. An uncomfortable feeling persisted that the workers were rightfully demanding their pending dues with interest.

The scenario was dicey. The workers at the factory had not been paid their salaries for the past three months. The manufacturing unit was in a financial mess. The directors had drawn on all the resources including bank loans to revive the sagging unit, but with the declining trend in the demand for synthetic yarn, they were faced with mounting losses. Now with repayment due, the banks were at their throat threatening dire consequences if they delayed repayment.

The owners of the unit were in a literal soup. They had disappeared from the scene, leaving the management to face the ire of the protesting workers. And the management had zeroed in on Mane to reach a compromise settlement with the workers as he had a very soft approach and was respected by both the management and the workers.

Even as he was deliberating on what sort of action to take, the protestors had reached the building. He had no option but to face them. But when Mane came out of the room, the irate protestors instantly calmed down. Their respect for him made them a little less vociferous.

He was well aware of this and that was the reason for his confusion. Knowing that their demands were justified, how could he proceed to offer them a compromised deal? He decided that he could not continue. He turned around, went back to the room, typed out his resignation letter, emailed it to the directors and walked outside with his head held high.

The workers were waiting. Their expectant looks and their readiness to hear him out, made him feel that he had taken the right decision. Without a second thought, he joined the laborers in the protest, his voice at higher decibels than the rest of them.