This time, a senior colleague handed me a letter about another `inquiry' being ordered for something I had recently written and he asked me to attend it. The letter was from a Deputy Chief General Manager of the Delhi Transport Corporation, informing the Editor that I had missed one hearing of their imperious inquiry and that I should be directed to attend the next hearing.

I scrutinised the missive. Inquiry? Ordered by the DTC? I mentally recalled the `offensive' piece: a hands-on account of how a plush DTC bus was being readied for the inaugural Delhi-Lahore run. There was a photograph ofthe bus getting a fresh coat of paint and a detailed description of it being fitted with ACs, video screen, stereo system, pneumatic doors et al.

It was the sort of story the DTC -- a beleaguered passenger service perpetually in the news for its appalling accident rate (once a detailed spread in Time magazine) and budgetary blues should have treated as free publicity. But no, its bosses reacted with unexpected pique, as if we had dared to describe dimensions of military equipment yet to be unveiled by the DRDO.

I arrived at the appointed hour at the DTC's cavernous office at Kingsway Camp. The inquiry officer, V.K. Sehgal, who, incidentally, heads the DTC's Store and Purchase Department, was waiting. I presented my card, pulled out the letter from my bag and handed it to him. Sehgal looked up momentarily from the papers he was reading and crustily told an assistant: ``Inke file laana.''

He began devouring the file once it was carried in. I waited nonchalantly not a few moments and then took on the roleof inquisitor. Where's the locus for such an inquiry? Do you handle the Stores and Purchases or the DTC's vigilance cell? And now that I'm here, please tell me what was so objectionable about my story?

``Do chai laana,'' Sehgal said, nonplussed, probably realising that the tables were being turned on him. I politely declined the offer. He then thumbed the file again and showed me the letter of G.S. Cheema, the DTC Chairman, who, he quickly informed me, had initiated the inquiry.

``You see, you had named certain officials in your article and the Chairman wanted to know how all this information appeared,'' Sehgal chipped in, now very much on the defensive. ``So we thought we would call him and you and face-to-face sort the matter out.''

Innocuous as the information may have been, I was sure I had not quoted any DTC official and told Sehgal so. We began scanning the stories appended to the Chairman's inquiry order. The official, Mansur Ahmed, head of the DTC's traffic division, had been named in an articleagain effusive stuff about their luxury service to Lahore in The National Herald. Nothing to do with me.

The discovery made Sehgal even more squeamish. ``You see, the Chairman must have noticed your article and maybe it's all a mix-up,'' he proffered, renewing the request for tea. ``Mansur Ahmed could not come today and if you had not come, you wouldn't have heard anything more from us. The letter was a mere formality. If it has caused you any inconvenience, please accept my apologies.''