Memoirs of a Lost World- 2

A day in LBSNAA

The old wooden office blocks of LBSNAA were burnt in fire long before we reached there. After that the new administrative building, mess, hostels, badminton courts had been built over the years. Yet LBSNAA seemed to had retained its style of teaching over the years with suitable adaptations as and when required.

There was not much stress on going through the massive volumes of text books. Law was the exception and we all agreed that law was one of the most important things for our careers. Most of the classes were taken by our Deputy Directors (DD) who were senior Officers from various services, mostly IAS. The other major portion of the classes were taken by ‘guest speakers’. We had people talking about ‘organizing events’ and like what? Like the ‘Kumbh Fair’ with over a 10 million people attending the event. May be such experiences were the forerunner of what I was supposed to do in future, mobilizing 500 thousand polling and counting personnel as the Joint Chief Electoral Officer of a state and yes, finding that a ‘cakewalk’.

And this is what LBSNAA was preparing us for. I can not help comparing other places with LBSNAA when I see brightest of the students not able to lead even small teams of 70-75 people. In LBSNAA, the figures were in 100 thousands. We were taught to think and act big. I remember the advertisement of one of the premier Tutorials for IAS, MBA and IIT entrance examinations. It blatantly used to state that the best management institute in India is not in ******* but in Mussourie, where you are taught to handle the management of a country (and not a company). And sure the advertisement was right.

There were experts who had converted dry lands into forests, revolutionized the District hospitals and health services, experts from education, cooperative movement and in micro credit and local self Government. The members of our batch of Officer Trainees (OTs) in LBSNAA were from diverse background, coming from Government school with fees of Rupees 2 per month to those taught in the Doon school. And all of them had to be brought to the same platform where they could identify, understand and resolve the problems of over 100 crore Indians.

And for this our day began at about quarter to 5 in morning during the three chilled winter months of Oct, Nov and Dec, in near 4-5 degree temperatures of Mussourie with the first whistle of Rana ji, our physical trainer. And not being to the ground on time meant a punishment of 10 to 30 push ups (Gender bias). And to be on time many of us slept in our track suits with our shoes on. And why not, those tension free cold nights of Mussourie and our warm and cozy beautiful rooms were such a perfect mix for a perfect sleep.

Rana and Prithi Singh (our other trainer) would take us in two groups for a jogging session of 4-5 km in the Mussourie hills. One of our DD would accompany one of the groups. And as the huge group used to run on the road, young and old, those beautiful people would come to a halt and smile at us. However, I was soon to leave the morning joggers group to lead the horse riding team. But till then this was fun and so was it for most of those, fat or thin, who would run or roll on those cool mornings with red noses. And to add this was the beginning of a rivalry between I and Rana ji for I loved breaching his instructions. And when he would goad me to run fast, I would slow down and when he would curse me that nothing could be done to me, I would sprint while others would jog.

I think that the systems should appreciate the differences in the individuals and the spirit of defying the orders one is not genuinely convinced with. For me, every thing that Rana ji did was wrong. And when he would make us do the monkey jumps on non jogging day, after the PT I would start my energization exercises of the Paramhansa Yogananda’s Yogada society.

Invariably I would tell our Joint Director in the Gym that Rana ji’s exercises were against the basic rules of exercise and Rana ji, then sweating, would continue shouting at me. Those last days of immaturity were soon to be lost in the job that would be so demanding in the years to come but those Mussourie mornings and their nostalgia will forever be fresh with us. And to all those who failed to follow so far, those were our lessons in discipline which were taught with a lot of fun, for who would like to leave bed and jog 5 kms in those temperatures.

Back from jogging, there could be only one place to break the meet, ‘The Ganga Dhaba’. People would have the ‘Elaichi Chai’ or a glass of juice and curse Rana ji and Prithi Singh or may be make phone call to their home (mobiles were still not that prominent). And while many would return to their rooms, there would be a few continuing the exercise session to the badminton court, TT tables or the Gymnasium which was world class and the best I have come across, including those in some five star hotels.

Back to our rooms we had about an hour to take a warm water bath in our attached bathrooms (even those appear a luxury today) with soft music playing on the player. And then our hurried run on the steepest slope in Mussourie would start as we rushed to out mess. Our wonderfully designed mess with world class furniture and huge glass windows meant that the break fast would either be amongst the clouds or we could see the snow which was, may be, hundreds of km away but looked at a stone’s throw. I believe that the location of the Academy and the mess in particular is one of the best in the entire Mussourie town for seeing the snow. And there we would have our breakfast as ‘suited-booted laat sahabs’ while the ladies would try a new Saree each day.

Then we had two classes in the morning and afternoon session each split by a sumptuous lunch (About the Law classes with Dada Banerjee, where the content would be real tough, some other day). Then after the classes there were the hobbies session where people learnt Guitar, Synthesizer, DTP, Photography or Videography and so on as per their choice. And are not your hobbies your best friends in life and why not make one if you don’t have one. Those were the days of trying to make the personality as perfect as we could make it, in the LBSNAA.

And after the classes we were served tea and biscuits in our hostel rooms. And people would be hurriedly getting ready to go to the Gym, indoor wooden badminton courts or the squash courts, to the horse riding ground, for trekking in the hills or to ‘the Mall’.

The Mall undoubtedly drew the most of us. We would hire an auto for Rs 15/- from the LBSNAA gate or take an evening stroll. The coffee shops, the momo shops, the Cassette shops and the Konica studio, where we would dump so many reels to be washed every day, were the biggest attractions. Some of us would buy books or a pair of scissors or a cap from the Bhutia market. We would wait for the dinner time to approach and then the group would enter one of those restaurants and the jokes, dinner and fun would continue.

And with the night getting colder the hood of out jackets would cover our heads as we would drag ourselves on the Mall; stopping on the shops now and then, watching the beautiful lights and the decorations. Some times we would get lost in the clouds, following the other friends as we continued to talk to give directions. Then a short break of 10 minutes was a must as we would stop by the railing, almost hanging on it as we watched the lights of the city of Dehradun below.

Those lights are sad someone would say. No they are joy other would reply. Each of those light shows a house or a shop. Think of the families living there. Kids being asked to go to sleep. The ladies in their evening ‘shringaar. May be they also play ghazals in their houses in the evening and the head of the family is sipping coffee after the dinner. Not every one will have such strange preferences, some one else would argue. Think of all the places we would be posted as the SDO and the DMs, people will come to us to solve their problems.

‘Problem! Have you written the order on Section 107?’ ‘No’ would be the reply and we would rush back to out hostel. Assignments would take another half an hour or so with the soft night ragas on. We would check out mail accounts. The silly box on our table wouldn’t take more than 10-15 minutes in a day, unless there was some assignment on the word or excel or someone brought a movie from the library. Too much affinity to the computer was considered unhealthy (sick). We would see our own photo albums or those developed by the neighbours. Some used to write dairies religiously or write a poem or random thoughts.

This was to continue for the first few weeks only because after that with every passing day we would hear the news of engagement of someone. And then they would reserve their evenings for long phone calls from a newly found friend.

Memoirs of a lost world -1

It was my first day in Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration (LBSNAA). We were a batch of about 220 probationers joining about 15 different services. And we were to be there for the next three months together in the ‘Queen of the Hill Stations- Mussoorie’. The whole group had been housed in the three hostels over-viewing the Happy Valley. While the other two hostels had the beautiful sight of the Horse Riding Ground, my hostel gave a full view of the football ground (where our morning PT was held at times)

We were being welcomed into what we had ourselves perceived till the other day as the ‘Government’. And in the background of 7 years experience in the services, I should say we deserved that welcome; for most of us were to won those laurels for the ‘Government’ through our public service in future days to come. But that day it was just for the reason that we had cleared the most grueling examination on earth that we were being welcomed in the LBSNAA. And there we were, each one of us raring to prove his or her superior knowledge and skills in the Academics to the other colleagues (as we were already professionals).

But the Academy had different plans for us. As we were told during our welcome, ‘the course will not focus too much on the bookish knowledge or memorizing the volumes or numbers, because that is what (we know) you all are good at’. What we were being prepared at LBSNAA was to handle the stress situations, learning to build teams and leading them, about group dynamics. And we were to be taught those things through the real life activities like the trekking, village visits, visiting NGOs, adventure sports- river rafting and Para-sailing, visits of guest speakers and the case studies. And the galaxy of speakers consisted of officers, politicians, environmentalists, journalists, social workers, artists, authors, industrialists, CEOs, management gurus, and so on and so forth.

What most of the speakers would discuss were situation demanding ‘raw courage’ under high risk situations, make or break decisions, commitment to duty, integrity in the service and dedication to the cause of the public. And often the clouds in the valley would sit next to the windows of the room trying to peek inside and gather a word or two from the lectures. And we used to sit in our Jodhpur Suits to listen to the mesmerizing words of the speakers; which mostly used to come from their hearts as the causes they had fought for were so close to their hearts. We were discovering that most of our ‘teachers’ were amongst the most illustrious officers in the service coming from across the country. People who had proved their mettle against all adversities in public life when all the problems in the society were being branded on a microscopic minority called ‘Bureaucracy’.

In our group of 220 we had some 53 IAS Officers, 15 IFS Officers and 30 IPS Officers. And what those figures meant? That each one of us posted in a district in Uttar Pradesh (UP) alone will not be able to give UP an IAS District Magistrate in all its districts. And we were a much larger country of over 25 states. But it meant some thing more also; that we were the blessed few who had entered "the Corridors of Power". And we were being warned that POWER CORRUPTS AND ABSOLUTE POWER CORRUPTS ABSOLUTELY.

Don’t let this power corrupt you; you are not the master’s of the land but the servants of the public. In the small towns where you will join as the SDOs to begin with, people will trust you like God. Listen to their problems, solve them for you can do that and you will see old people touching your feet, before you can stop them, just as they do to their God. But just don’t be the ‘Mai- Baap’ of the public, be one of them. The problems you faced as the public are now to be handled by you as the Government. There are so many people who criticize the Government, but there are few who would leave their fat salaries for what you all will get for being in Government.

And we were being respected for our commitment for the cause which forced us to take the biggest risk in our lives, to write the Civil Services Examination, to earn those Rs 8000. And we were realizing that the Government thing had begun to sink into us. And regarding salary as one of our faculty told, ‘if you don’t smoke or drink, your salary will be much more than what you will need to lead an honest and respectable life’. Luckily I qualified the constraints.

And our first salary was shear joy. Most of us bought cameras costing from Rs 1500 to Rs 2200, to make our fond memories of the place and time permanent. And our treasure of cassettes grew and for a change after the phase of preparing for the Civil Services Examination, we were again listening to the songs of joy, love and happiness.

This quiz bothers me

Life is so full of uncertainties. Only when I believed that I had every thing firmly settled around me, I took some decisions or to be honest fate brought me to one of the biggest uncertainties in my life. Something which can decide so many more things.......
I tried to find solutions to the best of my capacity in the smallest possible reaction time. But what is more important now to me is not the solution but the outcome of my efforts. And when I attempted perfect solutions for perfect questions, I can only wait with terrible nervousness for the outcome and hope for the best.
And if three months have not crucified me enough, another 10 days should take their toll. What more? I can only pray. I wish my efforts are fruitful and I am able to answer all those questions which life is posing.
And what if I fail? It would mean the extension of the race and another 3 months of uncertainties. But win I will because I hate to loose and never in the past had the desire to win been so strong.

Building Management Skills

There is no limit to education. There is also no limit to ambition.
No surprise that my ambition driven sabbatical brought me to this place. It is important for me from more than two points of view. A background in Finance will be useful in my future assignments. Then I wanted to associate the only remaining ‘I’ of the three most prominent ‘I’s’ in this country to my profile. And when my dream project, a book on Food security programmes, manages to see the day light; it would rock the world. But till then I had to manage the much feared First Term at the IIMA.
The courses were more useful for the Management Graduates but as a Student in Fellow Programme, I found that the Economics course and the Organizational Behaviour Course had their utility for me too. To begin with I was worried if I would be able to stand the onslaught of the best talent of the nation. But having done my first year at IITD in Mathematics and Computer Applications, I found that there is nothing comparable or even close to the batch of ‘Compu Science’ of SG, KM etc at IITD. It’s sad we still cannot retain those guys in our country.
To my convenience I still could manage to pass the examinations after studying the night before but again there is no AM here and so I miss his notes. I would love to go through his notes in the last 20 minutes before the exam and then help him copy any thing from my copy in return. Any way people slog here a lot and deserve credit for that. I believe I have managed with ‘B’s’ and ‘C’s’ and would get a decent overall score.
The other things that I am learning fast are the management skills from some of the grads. The other day I went to the cricket practice session before the arrival of the IIMB sports team. I loved batting on the net and managed to play some good shots. A gentleman ‘in power’ however was floundering on the pitch after me and was bowled, pardoned stumping chances and was LBW a number of times. I was impressed with bowling of a first year and one second year was impressive in his bowling and batting. However, the next day I didn’t even get a batting session on the net. I took the clue and realized there would be no place for me in the team. Unluckily, the other two guys I mentioned above also did not get a chance to play. As I had expected, our team lost.
This reminds me of my first year in the Aravali hostel, the ‘men’s hostel’ at IIT. Our hostel had won the sports trophy the last year with crossing a record 100 points in the first semester itself. But this time during the election for the post of Sports Secy, our stud boy DT was boasting that he had a team of captains in his wing and he would break all previous records. He won the election but we lost the trophy, we couldn’t even cross the 20 points in total. I wish we had searched for players and captains beyond the sports secy’s wing.
Cricket haunts me, it pushes a lot of adrenalin in my blood. I started playing as a three year old in my elder brother’s team with cork ball as we used to call. And by fourth class we were playing with duce ball and I was the team captain for years to come. So I had little honour of playing the 'Tennis Ball cricket'.
Luckily as PKS used to say I had the blessings of ‘Brahma’ so I could not be got out. The same was the realization of my ASP’s and SP’s when we used to play the DM/SP 11 or the SDO/ASP 11 matches on the 26th of January. People in the Khakee dress have a sense of arrogance about their cricket team which mostly consists of young boys who are selected in the police only for their sports talent. They might have enjoyed toying with the teams of Babu’s in the past. But our SP at Uttar Dinajpur went beyond when he borrowed players from the BSF to supplement his own team and they still lost. At the end of the match he was seen shouting at the umpires that they could not give me out even once.
I agree that the younger players should have better reflexes for cricket and I am older to most of the graduate students here, but I still don’t want to retire myself as a sportsman as players older than I am are playing internationally across the world. So without suspecting anything I went to play for my section (I thoroughly repent my decision) only to see some 20 players lining up to play with the tennis ball. (There were three from our section who went to play with the duce ball). There was a person with keen eyes observing us perform. His own ‘Full toss’ ball went to hit the first floor balcony some 40 feet beyond the keeper.
After having played some 25 balls with only one ball beating me on the off stump and that too missing the stump, wisdom dawned upon me that I was not supposed to be selected. As a response of an opening batsman to the leading fast bowler of the opponent, I hung the ball on the tree beyond the straight boundary, an ultimate humiliation for any fast bowler. I remember that this was also my response to AB in 1999 who was throwing the bowl to me to make it flatter and restricting me to play straight over his head. I still had managed to dig the ball off the wrist and dispatch him over the indoor badminton court and the ball was lost for ever. Even this time the ball could not be traced but the selector caught the opportunity hungrily, ‘such shots are out here’. As expected I could not make it into team which consisted of players who could touch one out of five practice balls, only to throw a loose catch in the gully.
What impress me at this place is the management skills of some of the students which my previous opponents lacked.
First, if you can’t beat a rival, don’t let him play. (Only if Abraham Lincoln had such wisdom, he wouldn’t have kept his major rivals to his left and right so as to have an eye on them. Sadly Indians continue to be pathetic team builders).
And second, randomizations are ‘truly random’.

I wish PKS, AB, DT and Sikandara had such skills, then ‘Brahma’ wouldn’t have been so benefic to me.

Life is a puzzle

Another day passed by unsung and unheard,
At times the hopes rose against all hopes,
Then million moments passed without a word,
And hopes belied, without a ray of hope.


Not an agony, it was the saving grace,
For work kept the wanderer reined and shadowed.
Restrictions defied- the gypsy raced,
To run, jump and hop- on the grass upon the meadow.


Like the swelling river rising, emotions rose, for
The sea was close. Charmed river destined,
To wash off the temple of the lore,
Revered which was with its deity pristine.


And as the river, temple and the deity-
In the infinite ocean loose their identity,
The race against the time will be lost as ever,
Along with the thoughts that were, but were never.

Why do people refuse to speak the truth?

Some one had raised a question some days back as to why do people refuse to speak the truth?

The question was thought provoking and somehow it drew my attention, so I thought about it. What I could think of is a personal assessment, obviously every one will have his own reasoning. But mine is given below:

• Firstly and quite obviously people refuse to speak the truth to hide a mistake or a lapse. This happens due to the fear of punishment.
  
• One very common case amongst people to avoid speaking the truth is to keep the other person in good humour. It assumes they believe that the other person may not take the truth in right spirit.
  
• The third type is complicated, as the concept of truth will depend upon what the seeker may (& wrongly) perceive as truth. Here, there can be a lot of deception if one continues to keep the seeker in dark by continuing to explain him what the seeker believes to be truth and take advantage of speaker's misconceived notion. Sycophancy is a milder form of this category.
  
• The fourth type is most beautiful and the saddest also, as the truth is too sacred to the speaker and there is fear in his mind whether his truth will be perceived with same sanctity. These truths are easily identifiable but difficult to elicit as this will require a lot of reassurance for the speaker to speak those. Here also the reason is the fear of punishment albeit the punishment is not physical but emotional or spiritual.
  
• Poorly placed Mercury in a horoscope can make a person a habitual false speaker. But this may be different from the case of ‘not speaking the truth’ which is different from lying. Speaking falsely is a wide genre which may originate due to financial or other constraints.
  
  
  

Sauda (The Deal)

Aaj uske ghar pe jalsa tha,

Mujhko bhi bulaya tha.

Badi hasti thi uski jo,

Khushiyaan jee bharke lutaata tha.

Hazaaron gam bhi the us par,

Jinhe sabse chupaata tha.

Madhosh mein jo jaa pahuncha,

Socha sauda kar ke aaunga.

Jinhe sabse chupata hai,

Wahi gam lekar aaunga.

Nasha jab mera utara to,

Dekha do gam lekar aaya tha.

Do gam lekar aaya tha,

Jholi bhar de aaya tha.

Khuda jaane kiske nasib se,

Kya sauda karke aaya tha.

Story of a people

The rustic arrogance of the invading Alien,

The El! The history called him the Arian,

The first clans came thru'- the North Western passes,

Settled with their rams and dogs- the warrior masses.

Oh Indra brought thou, the Yadu and the Turvasu

In the land of El-aavart, testified the 'Rig Veda'

Hamlets grew around the rivers 'Sapta- Sindhu'

So grew the country and its people- 'Hindu'

Times passed, to glorify kings, the bards ascribed,

The names and the identity- of the mighty tribes,

Reborn were Yadu, Turvasu, Anu, Puru as the Lunar Kings,

To match their valor came the Raghus of the Solar Wing.

And history saw, through the passes, Alexander the Great arrive,

But against the glory of the Punj Aab*, how could he survive?

History untold, but crystal clear, of the invader's last retreat,

On which his wounded ego or the body, no doctor could treat.

But there were people who pride in inviting Shaka and Yavan,

And also slowly came down the Scythian Caravan.

The land and its people ravished, rewritten was its history,

New kings and clans found, their past shrouded in mystery.

In the fabled land of the east were the caste and creed born,

What was that- the man's greed or God's own scorn?

Whatever be- remained the rustic arrogance of the alien,

The El! Whom the history called the mighty 'Aryan'.

* Aab- Waters/ Dignity

Punj- Five

Sapta- Seven

Sindhu- Waters/ Rivers.

Words

From the enraged ocean of our emotions,

The struggle that occurs within us, our inner strife.

The words are the surfaced waves, our expression,

Our feelings and sentiments brought to life.

The words are mightier than the mightiest,

Some thousand times powerful than the sorceress' charm.

Those that bring true happiness are the best,

Yet spoken carelessly can cause infinite harm.

They can bring relief to the bruised hearts,

As they carry the never dying stream of solace.

They support the distressed when the beloved parts,

And helping the helpless enhances their grace.

We play with words through our crude efforts,

And try that fragments of our thoughts become alive.

Yes, the dust always meets the dust, but fate,

Though we do pass, our words survive.

'chand sher

(A few couplets)

Kya hasraton ki baat karen, kya dil ka fasaana,

Unko nahin hai fursat, duniya ko kya bataana.

(Why should I discuss my desires, or the story (plight) of my heart

Why should I tell the whole world, when the beloved is not bothered)

Jo dard-e-dil na samjhe woh ishq kya karenge,

'Asir' Mashooq ko dil-daar kahte hain.

(One who does not understand the pain of the heart can not love,

'Asir' (captive) says that the beloved is one who has a large heart)

Kitne bhole hain woh jo hamen dekh muskaate hain,

Koi pooche unse kangalon pe moti kyon lutaate hain?

(Look at the innocence , when my beloved smiles to me,

Ask my beloved why the pearls are being wasted upon the wretched)

Hum hanste rahe, hum hansaate rahe, hum samne jahaan ke muskraate rahe,

Din bhar to tujhe hum bhulate rahe, par raat bhar aansoo bahate rahe.

(I laughed, smiled and made others laugh with me, throughout the day

I tried to forget you this way, but alas! at night couldn't stop the tears)

The Eyes

For the whole long grueling day,

To mask our feelings they strive.

At night with darkness when they play,

The deepest emotions get revived.

Then sometimes they get flooded too,

To calmness of night when they speak.

Yet day and night they search the ocean,

That their brine would seek.

Is it not strange that the doors of light,

Within themselves such talents do hide.

Being the source of a gift called sight,

To our emotions an outlet they provide.