Memories of a different era

K C Abraham was another towering personality whom I had the good fortune to work with during my service. The discerning reader will, no doubt, recollect Abraham's important role in changing the course of the history of the nation. The split in the Congress Party in 1967 was substantially on account of his stubborn refusal to side with Ms Indira Gandhi.

I first met Abraham when, as Secretary to the Governor, I went to his village to escort him to Hyderabad to assume office as the Governor. He struck me as a remarkably straightforward person with a strong and decisive personality. A man with austere and extraordinarily simple habits and with his heart in the right place. Unfortunately, he was a diabetic and, when advised by the doctors to desist from eating bananas, smilingly told them that he would not change his habits and they could give him the necessary advice, treatment and medication!

At the earliest possible opportunity, I told the new Governor that I had been brought to Raj Bhavan more or less against my will and that I would like to get back to a field posting. While sympathising with my position, Abraham, however, extracted a promise from me that I would serve him for one year, during which time he expected to settle down to his duties and responsibilities. I naturally acquiesced.

Over the next year or so, we had both grown very fond of each other. I admired his uncomplicated and straightforward attitude to official matters, and he appeared to like the way in which I stated my views firmly but politely. I remember one occasion when Chief Minister of Kerala A K Antony was planning to resign from the post, Abraham sent for me and sought my counsel. He asked me if I thought it proper for him to advise Anthony not to resign. Either out of an exaggerated sense of importance I felt on account of his consulting me, or because it is easy to apply strict standards of ethical conduct to others, I advised him against it. And he desisted. Such was his trust in the soundness of my advice and his determination to uphold the dignity and decorum of the high gubernatorial office he held.

As time passed, however, I grew restless. Having initially been a reluctant choice for the post, I found myself longing for a field posting, an assignment in which I could be closer to the grassroots and give more concrete expression to my desire to contribute to the growth and development of the State. I approached the Governor and reminded him that the agreed period of one year was coming to an end, and that I would like to seek his indulgence in allowing me to seek a field posting. Abraham agreed, and I was posted as the Collector of Krishna district. I still recollect with sadness how he bid farewell to me with moist eyes and an affectionate handshake.

As a civil servant, one gets exposed to several types of persons from different walks of life during one's career. Businessmen, movie celebrities, lawyers, doctors, engineers and political leaders are only some of those. I had my share of interesting Ministers to work with – some exceedingly good, some very much the 'come see come saw' types, and some who were positively obnoxious, if not outright corrupt or unscrupulous, and, therefore, very difficult to get on with. While there were many Ministers with whom my association was replete with pleasant memories, the time I spent with Maganti Ravindranatha Choudhary (MRC as he was popularly known), had many interesting moments. In our earlier avatars (he as a leading excise contractor and I as the Excise Commissioner at that time), we had had a bit of a face-off. But when he became the Minister for Cooperation, and I was the Secretary in charge of Agriculture and Cooperation, MRC was the personification of affection, respect and courtesy. I was in a bit of awe of him, as I had heard that he used to play high stakes Rummy with the legendary Haji Mastan in Bombay from time to time!

Over time, we became close enough that I shared an occasional smoke with him. Generous to a fault, he once offered to pay, from his pocket, the Rs 7 crore needed for settling of the demands of Paid Secretaries of Primary Agriculture Cooperative Societies, who were on strike (the Finance Department was hedging the (PACs)! I had to take great pains to explain to him that the working of the governance was a complicated and complex process, and that, while his offer was an exceedingly handsome gesture, that was not the way problems were solved in the government!

While in service, I had always been in the habit of going to the office on Saturdays (if it was a five-day week), and on Sundays (if it was a six-day week), in order to find the time and peace of mind to attend to complicated and time-consuming activities which had been put off during the week on account of either shortage of time or the inability to concentrate. Somehow, it was on Saturdays that the most extraordinary events happened!

I was quietly attending to my file work one Saturday in my room in the Andhra Pradesh Secretariat (I was Secretary, Agriculture and Cooperation, at that time), when I heard a great deal of commotion from outside. I walked across to the room of a colleague, from the window of which one had a clear view of the outside world. And what did I see, but the great statue of Lord Buddha gradually sinking into the Hussain Sagar lake! What happened thereafter is well-known and, as they say, history.

On another Saturday I was at my office in Delhi (I was, at that time, Additional Secretary, Department of Land Resources of the Ministry of Rural development in the government of India). My room was in Vignan Bhavan, which was close to Parliament House. Suddenly, I heard the "pop, pop" sounds, typical of a firecracker going off. I ignored the matter and continued with my work. It was only much later that I was to learn that the sounds I heard were gunshots fired by terrorists, who had attacked Parliament House!

(To be continued)

(The writer is former Chief Secretary, Government of Andhra Pradesh)