1965 Jalgaon

Brother Viji was working in the project to electrify the railway line from Bombay to Calcutta. His division was converting the signals on the line from Igatpuri to Bhusaval into colour light signals (from the old manual system) His home was at Jalgaon. He was not yet married. To his place, Mala and I went one summer.

Jalgaon itself had nothing to offer to the visitor. All the excitement in the place was provided by trains thundering through on their way to or from Bombay. However, our Jalgaon stay gave us a chance to visit Ajanta and Ellora caves. We had read about these places in Geography books and various journals. But what we experienced was much better. Ajanta caves are carved out of a horse shoe shaped hill. The location is very beautiful. There are over 33 caves. They have been decorated with frescoes. The frescoes have stood the test of time, because of the organic colours used to paint them and the protection from direct sunlight provided by the caves. A good number depict Buddhist themes while the others deal with Hindu stories. The paintings are exquisite. They have been reproduced and publicized worldwide. A good guide conducted us through them, pointing out in the dim light, the finer points for our appreciation. Some themes occurred often. By the end of the tour, we could recognize Bodhisattva Avalokiteswara and Bodhisattva Padmapani.

Ellora offered in carvings, what we saw as paintings in Ajanta. Here also there were Buddhist and Hindu rock cut temples exemplifying sculpture of a high order. The temples were not built by assembling rocks. Instead, they were cut by hewing out rock from the hill side. We were reminded of the sculptor who said that the goddess was already in the rock and he only uncovered her image! Unlike Ajanta, Ellora was hot.

We had read of Deogiri fort in history books. It was to this place that Mohammed Bin Tughlakh had shifted the capital from Delhi for a short time. We saw the place. The fort on a hill looks really impregnable and conveys the power of the emperor. It seems water was a problem then also and the idea of having the capital in the heart of India did not work for that reason. We were told that Emperor Aurangzeb also spent many years here. He has built here a memorial for his wife. But he was one who did not like to spend too much public funds on such things. While his father built the Taj mahal with the best marble, the frugal Aurangzeb built his wife's mausoleum in brick and lime. The building reminds one of the Taj, is also white, but is only a cheap replica.

The trip took us also to Shirdi. We had seen pictures of Sai Baba of Shirdi. Bhavaji was an ardent devotee. We used to get every month Prasad from Shirdi, in the form of a mixture of sugar and ginger. Viji is also a devotee and he continues to receive the Prasad.

1968   Kashi and Kota

It is said that a person who goes to Kashi should leave some thing there. In my case, I left my return ticket there!

A call for interview for a lecturer post from Banaras Hindu University gave me a chance to see Kashi. The sights of Kashi were, however, disappointing. The temple of Lord Vishwanath looked too small, crowded and ill maintained to Southern eyes which had seen famous temples in Tamil Nadu and Mysore.

The ghats along the river with their long flight of steps were impressive, in spite of the unclean maintenance. One was reminded of the scene from the Satyajit Ray movie where a little boy runs along these steps at dawn, seeing people engaged in various types of prayer or exercise. A fine temple built recently, was in the University campus. This modern temple for Vishwanath had been built by the Birlas. With an aesthetically designed tall structure, built in marble, the temple was very attractive. Cycle rickshaws dominated the roads of Kashi. All traffic moved constrained by these vehicles. Riding one such, I reached Saranath, where Buddha had given one of his early sermons. With a recently built Buddhist temple enclosed in a large and beautiful garden, Saranath was a serene place. One could sit down and try to visualize Buddha preaching.

After the interview, I went to the railway station to catch a train to Kota. Only after the TTE asked for my ticket, did I realize that I had left it behind in the hotel in Kashi. Though my name was on the chart, the TTE insisted that I should buy another ticket. The punishment has worked. I have not lost a ticket again in 45 years!

Rajasthan atomic power project was coming up, about 30 miles from Kota. Raghu was posted there. The housing colony was in the village of Rawatbhata. Vacationing with him, I got a chance to live in this interior part of Rajasthan. Coming from the salubrious climate of Bangalore, one found Rajasthan heat oppressive. Quickly, one learnt to stay indoors till evening, keep the blinds down with the fan running always. One had to keep drinking liquids often, to make up for water loss through sweating. This gave a good excuse for enjoying often beverages prepared with love by Suma vaini.

The stark scenery of the village was in sharp contrast with that of villages in Karnataka. There was not much to be seen in the village. Excitement was provided by occasional visits to the temporary theatre showing Hindi movies. The colourful attire of the locals was in contrast with the barren scenery. The women wore a lot of ornaments. The cut of their blouses matched those of current fashion designers. The men wore large and colourful turbans. The milkman in such fine attire would arrive on his cycle and announce it using a bulb horn. Used to milkmen in Bangalore, who dressed plainly and walked with their animals, we were duly impressed by their Rajasthani counterpart.

The construction site was about an hour’s drive from the colony. Those were the days when India was counted among Nations in the forefront of nuclear technology. Canada and India were sharing technology on equal footing. Dr Homi Bhabha, Chairman of the Atomic energy commission, was respected worldwide. The reactor buildings were taking shape. One got to climb a lot of steps with Raghu and hear a lot about nuclear technology as well as electrical and instrument engineering.

The power station was coming up close to the Ranapratap sagar dam on the Chambal River. These were romantic names. Ranapratap’s name evoked memories of heroic deeds of Rajput warriors. People remembered fondly, not only that King, but also his horse, Chetak. Chambal was made notorious by its tradition of dacoity. Those were days prior to that of the bandit queen, Phoolan Devi. People remembered the work of Vinoba Bhave, who had reformed some dacoits. This was popularized by the Raj Kapoor movie, ‘Jis Desh me Ganga Behti Hai’.

Chambal flowed down from Ranapratap Sagar towards Kota. There was another dam near Kota and a thermal power plant. However our attraction in Kota was just city civilization. We could go to pucca movie halls and eat at nice restaurants like Payal or Quality. It was our first time out in North India. We developed a liking for Aloo mutter (peas and potato) and other Punjabi dishes.

There was also a trip to Jaipur. Our first reaction was that Jaipur looked like Mysore! Later we learned the reason. Jaipur did treat Mysore as a good example to follow. The King invited a former Diwan of Mysore, Sir Mirza Ismail, to be his Diwan. All these have resulted in Mysore look alikes in Jaipur. Coming from Mysore, we felt proud about them. However Jaipur has many older monuments dating from Mughal times. The Hawa mahal is very good from outside. There are palaces in the city and on top of the hill nearby. Elephant rides exhilarate tourists at Amber fort. Visit to a museum was memorable for an unusual exhibit. Rajasthan consists of many tribes. Each tribe wears the turban, in its own style. The museum had a section showing the turbans of Rajasthan. It interested us very much.

Back in Rawatbhata, we heard much about peaceful uses of atomic energy. At that time, India was one of the champions of the slogan,’ atoms for peace’. Pokhran blast was still a decade away!

Mussoorie, 1968

The best thing that happened in Mussoorie is that I found Lakshmi. This I realized only after I left that place. While there, my thoughts were dominated by horses and mares!

Riding was compulsory, twice a week for all Probationers. As the riding day neared, tension would increase for almost all of us. As we neared the riding ground at the foot of the Happy valley, we would be all nerves. Riding Instructor, Naval Singh’s rough methods added to our misery. Some would go to his assistants earlier, requesting less frisky horses. They would even have sugar cubes for the horses as little bribes. But most would get horses or mares with minds of their own, which enjoyed tossing the new riders off their backs. While the Probationer hoped that Naval singh would take pity and excuse him, he would hear the tough man scream,’ If you cannot control a horse, how will you control a district? Get back on your horse’. Probationers made up various ways of entreating him. One said,’ Sir, take pity on me. Otherwise my bride- to- be will become a widow!’ But Naval singh would not budge! Riding incidents and the riding instructor provided the most frequent subjects for conversation in the academy.

The academy was set in delightful surroundings in a hill station built by the British. The lecture halls and hostels were dispersed among a number of buildings. Going to class or mess or riding involved a little walk and climbing. The tin roofed buildings used to house the Charleville Hotel in the old days. The location was called ‘Happy valley’ and the hostel was called ‘Valley view’. Sitting in the library, we could see Bandar Poonch and adjoining peaks covered by snow. Closer, we could see plenty of deodar trees and terraced fields in the Doon valley. Standing on the market road, we could see Dehra Doon lights below us. Local hill people had very friendly faces. There were also many Tibetan refugees. Our own company consisted of bright youngsters selected from all over the country on the basis of merit. All were full of hope and enthusiasm.

In addition to administration, the academy tried to teach English manners to the raw probationers. We had to be in coat and tie in all the lectures and in the mess. We also had formal dinners when we had to wear more formal trousers and a close collared coat. The formal dinners were long affairs, where you had to sit at assigned places and had to make conversation with the person next to you whether or not you liked him or her. Food for vegetarians would leave us hungry at the end of the dinner. There were also ‘dry lunch’ days which left us dry and hungry. A probationer’s handbook told us about table manners and the correct way to converse. ‘Cultured people talk about ideas. Others talk about people’

During Dasara break, some of us made a trip on our own, by bus, to Badrinath. From Rishikesh, the road went upstream, along the course of the Ganga, Bhagirathi and Alakananda. The narrow road allowed traffic in only one direction at a time. When we stopped we would await a convoy from the opposite side, led by a vehicle with red flag and ending with a vehicle carrying a green flag. The road curved its way along the rising hills with the river marking our route all along. Every fifty miles or so, there would be a Prayag where two rivers joined. The narrow strip of land at the confluence and a suspension bridge near the pilgrim town made the view picturesque. After each confluence, the river acquired a new name. Our route took us finally along the Alakananda. After spending a night on the way, we reached Badrinath. The temple was a simple structure. However, its location at 10000ft altitude at the foot of the majestic Neelakanth peak and the wonder of a hot water spring in such a cold place left lasting memories.

On the way back, we hiked to Hemkund Lake. We walked and climbed 10 miles to reach a Gurudwara at Ghagaria. We gratefully ate the food served from the Langar (common kitchen) and stayed the night. From here, there is a trail to the valley of flowers and another to Hemkund. We learnt that that the valley was not in season. So we climbed and marched another 6 miles to reach the pristine Hemkund Lake at an altitude of 14000 ft. It is sacred to the Sikhs. We walked with many of them shouting ‘Bole so nihal, Sat Sri Akal’ (Sikh equivalent of Govinda, Govinda). There we saw the pilgrims taking bath in the icy water. We also followed suit and were promptly frozen. The priest there gave us rugs and hot tea, which revived our spirits.

Badrinath beckoned me again when my group was sent to Joshimath for military attachment. We spent a fortnight with a battalion stationed at 9000ft altitude near Joshimath. This place, Auli has now been developed as a ski resort. When we were there, it was summer and there was no snow. We lived in a tent and experienced the rough life of officers in forward areas. After we had done most of our time, we were taken to Badrinath and then told to trek further towards the Tibetan border. We crossed a glacier on foot and climbed to 14500 by evening to reach the camp at Ghastoli. There was no village here, nor any greenery. We could see only rocks and snow. It was harsh on the eye and we had to keep snow goggles on. We were told how it causes depression sometimes. But for visitors like us, it was a great and adventurous trip. After spending the night in a Nissan hut, we trekked back to civilization.

After November, the weather in Mussoorie started getting chiller every week. By mid December, we were close to zero degree. There was suspense whether or not it would snow before we left the place for our two- month Bharat darshan to escape the winter. Just before Christmas, it did snow. All the young adults became children again. We built snowmen and threw snowballs on each other. Carols learnt in school were remembered again and we sang in praise of the White Christmas

The year in idyllic Mussoorie ended faster than we realized. Very soon we had taken our exams. We even jumped over hurdles (horse and rider attached) to clear the riding test. It was time to disperse. We left for different States spread all over the Country. Some of us would never meet again. Some would meet after a few decades and wonder how the other fellow had changed! Mussoorie also has changed, we hear. But we have not seen it again. Our Mussoorie is still in 1968-69. If we go there now, we may feel like Tagore’s Kabuliwallah!

1969 Shimoga

I used to remember Shimoga as the town in which, I had broken an arm. That was when I was in primary class. I remembered Raghu picking me up and taking me to the hospital. Now in 1969, I was a young man fresh after training in Mussoorie, reporting for district training in Shimoga.

After the college-hostel-like atmosphere in Mussoorie, I was out on my own for the first time. Akkamma had added a tiffin carrier and a plate to the things I carried from Bangalore. Only the first meal in the tiffin carrier tasted good.

The Deputy Commissioner, my boss for the year, had a very aggressive style of working. He was very harsh on his subordinates. Many of them would try unsuccessfully to avoid his meetings. While he chastised them, his eyes would flash fire and his ears would move up and down! I have not seen any other person who can actually move his ears to express an emotion!

Mr. Jayacharya would tell me about Hyderabadi culture. He had many stories from the Hyderabad administration, about officers who would live and work in Moghul style, not bother to read files and only ask whether a full signature or mere initials were required. One was known to sign anything put up to him including a letter of resignation. This Acharya was educated in the Urdu medium. He could speak the stylish Urdu of the Nizam’s court. When I was in awe about my future responsibilities, he told me of the saying, Khursi khud sikhati hai (the chair itself will teach you)

For a part of the training, I was posted at Honnali, on the banks of the river, Tunga. A tennis court was available near the guest house. For a month, I tried my hand at tennis, but never got to hit the ball hard enough to interest any partner. I had more success in learning to drive. The jeep was a convenient vehicle for learning as there was one gear less to use. One could also practise while going on tour. Sometimes this would cause anxiety to others riding with the young officer. When the vehicle swerved violently, some of them would remind me that they had families waiting for their return!

Sometime thereafter, Prakash became my boss! I had to work for a month as a Tahsildar in Sagar where the Assistant Commissioner was Prakash. Most people found it amusing except the mobile-eared boss. He was on a sharp look out to catch Prakash favouring his Tahsildar, because he happened to be his brother!

The best attraction in Sagar was the famous Jog Falls. It was only half an hour away. Quite a few weekends were spent playing cards and exchanging jokes in the Travelers Bungalow overlooking the falls. Sharavathi had already been dammed. Jog Falls no longer looked like its old pictures. The bungalow had an old visitors book with many interesting comments- the most famous being that of the Engineer Statesman Visweswaraya made before the river was harnessed, ‘What a waste of energy!’

1970 Sedam

We had heard of salem in Tamil nadu ; but where was Sedam in Karnataka ?  I had to find out because that was where I had to work. A friend who was trained in Gulbarga district, had once mentioned the name to impress us about the remote nature of the place. With a railway timetable, I found that Sedam was on the way to Hyderabad from Wadi and set off to my new station.

Sedam had a neat house for the Assistant Commissioner, even though it was not as spacious as the fine old bungalow that Prakash had in Sagar. The office had an IAS head for the first time. The staff was eager to make the young officer comfortable.

August evenings in Sedam attracted a variety of insects. If you were violent with them, they would leave their stink on you. You would also have to deal with itching and swelling. However, it was extremely difficult to bear them patiently. Luckily, their number reduced after the season changed.

Driving around villages in this area was quite an experience. It was one of the most backward areas in the State. In many places there was no road. We had to use the dried river bed as the jeep track. Of course during rainy season, the villagers would not be troubled by any unwelcome visits by Government officials.

Mr Veerendra Patil, who was the Chief Minister at that time, hailed from Chincholi in Sedam subdivision. There was no road bridge to reach that place. One had to take the train, get off at Tandur after crossing Kagina River and drive to Chincholi.

 Kannada the official language, was not the only common language in Sedam. Gulbarga distict was in Hyderabad state before 1956. So Urdu and Telugu were also very common. Many village records were still in these languages. Many officials were graduates of Osmania University, which was the first to use a language other than English, namely Urdu, as a medium of instruction. During a visit to a village near Chincholi, I heard a village elder bless the Chief Minister in chaste Urdu that he should live long and rule over them for a hundred years.

Once while waiting for the train at Tandur, I was accosted by a passenger who said he was stranded without money and had to proceed urgently. He had a very elaborate story which sounded plausible. Though I had some doubt, I remembered a line I had read somewhere, that ‘It is better to be cheated than to turn away one in real need’. So I parted with some money along with my address for returning the sum by money order. Many years have passed. The money order has not come. Perhaps he lost the address slip!

Unlike in the old Mysore area, the staple food of rural people in Hyderabad Karnataka was Jowar. The locals would sing the praise of Jowar Bhakri served with ‘ennegai’-(brinjal curry with lot of oil). My stay was not long enough to cultivate a taste for this delicacy.

Gulbarga, 1970-71

Gulbarga was the capital of  one of the Bahmani  Sultans. An old fort, mosque and similar historic stone structures exist there. But they are not as famous as those in Bijapur or Golconda (Hyderabad). Under the Nizam, it was the seat of a Viceroy. Now a Commissioner and a Deputy Commissioner are stationed there. After I had spent some months in Sedam, I was asked to work as Deputy Commissioner in Gulbarga, while the DC was away on long leave. Suddenly I was transported to the boss’s chair. The power of the office literally rang in my ears when Sec 144 was promulgated and I could hear a police van announcing that Deputy Commissioner so and so had prohibited assembly of persons!  Lakshmi wrote that I was striding like a colossus while I should still be learning to walk!

That was the year the Congress party split. Indira Gandhi called elections ahead of time. A census was also held in 1971. With these, the work of the DC became quite hectic. My recollection is of signing a large number of appointment orders of Election officials and the sight in the Collectorate when they all assembled and boarded vehicles to reach their polling stations.

The DC’s bungalow was very spacious and well furnished. There was a large sit out in front, surrounded by old tall trees. Old driver Kasim used to drive us around in the Willys wagon. There was also an Impala meant for VIP visitors. It was difficult to resist using it when no VIP was in the district.

Akkamma and Ramanna were among visitors to Gulbarga during this short period. We had enjoyable visits to Malkheda and other places of interest. All were amused to hear the Gulbarga dialect of Kannada. There was a cook who was quite talkative and told us many local stories. He used to distinguish locals as Mughalai people as distinct from people from areas under  former British rule.

Governor Dharma Vira visited Gulbarga. He was a retired officer of the ICS. He had a reputation as a strict person who had no patience for fools. He was speaking often against what he called the tyranny of the minor officials. He gave me advice not to take more than I could chew. It so happened that the CM was also visiting at that time. Hospitality resources were stretched. The Governor said I should have declined to receive both at the same time. Luckily nothing untoward happened and both VIP’s left peacefully. So did I shortly thereafter when the DC came back ending my 100 days as Sultan.