An Immersive chronicle

If Rajan Kashyap had not joined the civil service, he would have been a great academic and a wordsmith of calibre in both prose and poetry — certainly in English, and most probably also in Urdu, for he would then have had the time to really master the language he was so fond of. He would also have achieved greater heights as a sports administrator on the national and global arena. However, for those of us who have had the privilege of working with him, there can be no two opinions that he brought gravitas and value to each position he had in his long and illustrious journey as a civil servant.

Allow me to bask in reflected glory by sharing some common bonds with the author. My forebears too were in the service of the state of Kapurthala, a 17-gun salute state with the longest serving Maharaja in the country who reigned for 72 years. Like him, I studied English literature, and while in service, I was privileged to spend considerable time in the agriculture and cooperation departments. In fact, while he was the Financial Commissioner for Agriculture and Cooperation of Punjab, he had tasked me to organise a brainstorming on Agribusiness Punjab circa 22020 at our alma mater, the LBSNAA. Like him, I had the opportunity of taking a mid-career break into the world of academia; he went to Cambridge while I went to Cornell: both of us studied the intersect of state and agriculture, and both learnt to question the conventional wisdom on development interventions.

Should civil servants pen their memoirs? What is so interesting in their lives that the general public would like? Is civil service writing a genre of self-congratulatory prose? Does it add to our understanding of contemporary history? Well, the answers to many of these questions have already been given by CD Deshmukh, the first Indian to have topped the ICS exam in 1918. In the Preface to his autobiography, the very first chapter is called ‘to write or not to write’. He goes on to argue that chronicling the times is actually a sacred duty, an important rite of passage after superannuation. While journalists may get a ring side view, and the historian will base her facts on what appears in contemporary journals, a civil servant is privy to what actually happened as well as all the pulls and pressures. In fact, this book is not just about vignettes of the author’s service life, it is also the narrative of Punjab: the formation of Punjabi Suba, the success of the Green Revolution, the beginnings of terrorism, the failures of governance, the succession of Governors during President’s rule, the financial crisis which engulfed the state during the decade of insurgency, the work- life balance in the life of an IAS officer, besides the author’s ability to find purpose and meaning in whichever position he held.

As in the case of most writings in this genre, the format of writing is sequential – childhood, boyhood, the phase of rendezvous, life as a professional and as a family man who lived well, but within his means, encounters with people at the helm of political spectrum, a tribute to friends and colleagues, anecdotes with a direct bearing on history and a mature reflection on the different twists and turns of the wonderful miracle called life.

The book gives us an insight not just into the genteel life in the princely state of Kapurthala, but also at the Radha Swami Dera at Beas, and how one can go on to achieve excellence in the professional and spiritual realms – both father and son achieved the pinnacle of success in the IPS and IAS respectively. His life and time as a young scholar – first at the YPS and then at the Panjab University where he was a proud member of the Dodo club — are a true pen portrait of life as it would have been in the first two decades of Independence. As with all civil servants, the time spent at the NAA (now LBSNAA) at Charleville brings a sense of nostalgia, and Kashyap follows a similar trajectory. The description of the first few years – as an SDO and a rookie deputy secretary — suggests that the political ecosystem is almost the same, with the caveat that the scale of corruption has outpaced the trajectory of economic growth! However, if officers want, they can achieve and deliver whatever the challenge be. When he talks of diminutive Krishan Kumar who reversed the sex ratio in the worst affected district of Nawanshahr, or of Karl Reddy who transformed the lives of marginal farmers, as well as of NS Sodhi who made the corridor around the Golden Temple, he shows officers have the potential of bringing about transformative changes in society.

The turmoil that Punjab underwent has seen a spurt of writing – from RI Singh’s magnum opus with a similar title to KPS Gill’s ‘Paramount Cop to Mark Tully’s Amritsar: Mrs. Gandhi’s Last Battle’ and Shekhar Gupta’s The Punjab Story – all of which give us an insight into how and why the peasantry of India’s most prosperous state got entangled in the vortex of insurgency. Kashyap’s book is significant, for it talks of how the state got back on its feet. His tribute to the political sagacity, administrative acumen and the ear-to-the ground approach of Chief Minister Beant Singh is important, because somewhere along the line, Punjab and the country have not given him the credit he deserves. Thank you, Mr. Kashyap, for resurrecting his memory. And also for paying a wholesome tribute to the liftman of the Civil Secretariat, Baba Gurbachan Singh, who would dispense ‘surma’ a tonic for the eyes to all and sundry, as well as to Brij Bedi, the quiet social worker of Amritsar whose contribution to the civic life as well as drug de addiction was second to none.

The penultimate point I wish to make is on the use of quotes and ditties that intersperse the text – from the ‘Prince on the Bicycle’ in the very first chapter to ‘Vanaprasta’ in the last when he bids adieu to the service. Students of literature will relish the quotes from Alexander Pope, William Shakespeare and Charles Dickens, which help the reader to catch the nuance in a manner which is both subtle and sublime. The financial dilemma of the state is brought out by quoting Dickens on happiness: Annual income 20 pounds, annual expenditure 19 pounds, 19 shillings and six pence, result happiness. Annual Income 20 pounds, annual expenditure 20 pounds ought and six, result misery’. The technique adopted by the Finance Department in communicating that the proposal had not found favour is akin to Alexander Pope’s famous lines spoken about Lady Belinda who would cheerfully flirt with her suitors, but ward them off most tactfully: oft she rejects, but never once offends. In modern parlance, we may call it the art of non-adversarial communication (with a smile!)

And finally, the dedication: his fiercest critics have also been his lifeline, and while thanking the author for covering the life beyond the trappings of office, one would be failing in one’s duty if the role of Meena, Bini and Anurag in shaping the author’s life is missed out. The pen picture he paints of them – their joys, anxieties and minor frustrations — makes the book such a pleasurable read. The publisher too deserves to be acknowledged for the quality of production and editing: so, dear reader, go ahead and take a plunge into the pages of the book, for this review is but a teaser, an invite to take a deep immersive dive into a wonderful book by a wonderful author.

The writer superannuated as the Director of the LBSNAA after 36 years in the IAS, and is currently a historian and policy analyst.