NADT - 'N'ot only 'A'bout 'D'irect 'T'axes

December 2011. I landed at Nagpur to a very royal welcome at the National Academy of Direct Taxes. Contrary to my welcome at college way back in 2002 when it was all about 'kholo', 'ragging' and 'bakaiti', here it was with a rose bud, a gift hamper and smiles from the senior batch. We, the 65th Batch of the Indian Revenue Services (Income Tax) seemed to have arrived.

Soon, we were to get into a frenzy of wardrobe management. First of all there was that black Bandgala and as the name suggests, it chokes your throat badly, more so if you are endowed with a double chin like mine. Then there was the formal/lounge suit which by the way could not be called so, as there was no lounge in the academy. So to make sure that lounge suits are not left without a use, the classrooms were the places that were to be entered in a lounge suit. Ha! This was amazing. In college, we were lamented for wearing shorts, t-shirts (with Black Sabbath or Pink Floyd on it) and bathroom chappals into classes and here I was going to class in a lounge suit. Then there was the academy track suit along with a set of white shorts and white t-shirts to be worn for Morning Activity. The name is misleading. Morning Activity sounds so benign as if we would wake up to do some saheb-type stroll in a lawn with a pet dog accompanying us. However, it should be renamed as 'extremely physical activity that is the birthplace of all Memos'. (More about what and who is that animal called Memo after a couple of paragraphs). There were also days when we were supposed to wear traditional Indian dresses like the kurta pyjama and the like.

Having stuffed our wardrobe with enough number of shirts and ties and suits, we went to our first class after the inauguration lecture. We were introduced to characters called the DG, ADG-1, ADG-2 and also the CD, ACD-1, ACD-2. We also came to know that we are called the OT. I wondered why there weren't any AOT-1 and AOT-2!!. Never Mind. The "Oh-Tea" was more than just a name. It signified two of the most used terms in our lives. At each lecture, we would exhale "Oh", either at the sheer sleepiness of them or at the immense amount of hyper-divine taxation knowledge that moved past us like dangerous missiles. And at the end of each lecture, we would crave for Tea. I was soon to learn that Tea forms the most integral and basic ingredient in a Civil Servants life.

Alas, I do not take tea. But that didn't matter. Because in government, the Tea is never about the tea. It is about what accompanies the tea. It is either a cookie, a biscuit, a pastry, a pakoda or any other innovation. In fact, when bigger officials or guests arrive, there is always a High-Tea that is organized. While the name might mislead people to expecting liquor or grass, it actually means that the tea will be accompanied by so many snacks that you can actually get high on cholesterol. For someone like me, I just waited for days when a High Tea would be organized.

By the way, what were be being trained at? Oh, we were being trained to collect income tax. Simple isn't it? Ha! Not even close. The Income Tax Act which is one of the zillion Acts that India has takes pride in boasting that it is the most complex act and looks bulkier than even the Constitution of India. The Income Tax Rules, however beats even the Act in its bulkiness. First I thought that these were given to be used during the Morning Activity where these shall be used as dumb-bells to flex some muscles. To my horror, I realized these were to be read. Reading the IT Act is not, truly speaking, reading. It is actually Textual Harassment. My feelings on the legal language of the Act has already been expressed here http://cmt-lekhnise.blogspot.in/2012/01/legal-bullshit.html

But the most MEMOrable part of the training is the MEMO. It is that small piece of paper which lands at you like a bomb, if you are found missing from the Morning PT or in any class or even in any cultural function. Then you submit a reply and then get a moral lecture from the faculty and then forget about it. That reminds me of the Cultural functions. Oh there were too many of them and the most scary part was that our CD himself was an accomplished artist. A flute player of repute. That only meant that all cultural programmes had to be of the level to match his and that left many of us trying hard to come up with a show that he would approve of. I saw many innocent OT's burning midnight oil with a dance or a song and waiting in anticipation at the auditions of cultural programmes conducted by the CD himself. Poor souls.

However, NADT remains in my memories my baptism centre in the government and a place where I spent my enjoyable time. As luck would have it, I moved out from the academy to join another service but I still am fond of my NADT day's introduction - "Hello, I am CMT, an OT in IRS(IT), who lives at NADT and loves High Tea"

When Bhabha turned in his grave

At the academy in Mussoorie, a debate has been conducted every year for last 30 odd years in the memory of Homi J Bhabha, the pioneer scientist of India. And as happens with most such memorial debates, it has a running trophy which gets transferred to the winner of each year. The 2012 Homi Bhabha Debate was on "Climate Changed India of 2030's: Heading for Disaster"

I had not taken part in any debate since 2003 or 2004 and felt that I'll never again get to do this school-college type of thing after the real job begins. In the spur of the moment, I gave my name for the debate. On the suggestion of a friend who said that there is a lot of material on the internet denying the existence of climate change, I decided to go against the topic.

But the lazy man that I am, I somehow didn't feel like doing extensive research on the topic and mostly forgot about it till friday. (the debate was to be on monday). Friday, Saturday and Sunday are the days when we get drunk.After getting heavily drunk on Saturday, it occurred to me that I had to write something for the debate. In the most drunken state, I started scribbling something in Hindi. I wrote about 2-3 pages and then dozed off. With a hangover, I woke up on sunday and struggled to read my own handwriting. I then realized I had almost no content or arguement, but the liquor had had a huge impact on the tone of my scribble. Friends suggested that I keep the tone and try including some content. The very friends were also kind enough to google and give me some 2-3 points. I had, by then, thought of a lot of rhetorics. Before the drinks on Sunday, a script was ready. After getting drunk on Sunday, I read out the script to my other drunk friends. They agreed that it had almost no content, but said that if I deliver this with the same vigour that I have when I am drunk, this would be quite an entertainment for the audience.

I had last minute self-doubts. This was, after all, a serious debate, where people would qoute from international conventions and speek in highly bureaucratic English. Would I not be blamed of trivializing and mimicking the entire programme. Somehow my friends were sure that this would be fun. I decided to take the chance. Entertaining the audience became a bigger aim than winning the debate. Here is the script which I delivered....

सन् 1999. मेरी उम्र तकरीबन 16 साल की रही होगी, जब किसी ने ये अफवाह उड़ाई कि दुनिया खतम होने वाली है। मैने न जाने किस-किस भगवान से मन्नत माँगी कि दसवीं की परीक्षा से पहले दुनिया खतम हो जाए। पर भगवान ने मेरी नहीं सुनी। पिछ्ले साल भी एक बार फिर हवा उड़ी कि 2012 में दुनिया खतम हो जाएगी। मैने फिर मन्नतें माँगी कि सिविल सेवा की परीक्षा से पहले ही दुनिया खतम हो जाए। भगवान ने फिर से मेरी नहीं सुनी। 2012 अब भी जारी है, लेकिन ये कमबख्त दुनिया है कि खतम होने का नाम ही नहीं लेती।

अभी मेरे कई काबिल दोस्तों ने Google और Wikipedia से ऐसे-ऐसे तथ्य निकाल कर आपके सामने परोसे कि उन्हें सुनकर आपकी रूह काँप उठी होगी और आप घबरा गए होंगे कि 2030 तक दुनिया का महाविनाश हो जाएगा। काश कि ये सब सच होता और हम इस जालिम दुनिया से निजात पा सकते। पर अफसोस कि ये खामखयाली उतनी ही सच है जितना ये कि माँ के दूध से बच्चे को cancer हो सकता है।

पिछ्ले 20 सालों में, खासकर 1992 के Rio De Jenerio के Earth Summit  के बाद से Climate Change या जलवायु परिवर्तन समाज के बेरोज़गार रईसों के Drawing Room Discussions का एक अहम मुद्दा बन गया है। वैसे ही जैसे कई साल पहले समाजवाद या पूँजीवाद की बहस इनका timepass हुआ  करती थी।

कई महानुभावों का कहना है कि 2030 तक  हमने अपने मौसम को इस कदर बादल डाला होगा कि जीना मुहाल हो जाएगा। मैं इंसान की इस छाती पीटने की आदत का कायल हो गया हूँ। न सिर्फ हम इस बात का दम भरते हैं कि हमने 200 सालों में पृथ्वी की जलवायु बिगाड़ दी है बल्कि इस वायदे  पर भी इतराते हैं कि हम चाहें तो इस जलवायु परिवर्तन को रोक सकते हैं।

IPCC, UNEP एवं कई ऐसी संस्थाओं की मदद से विकसित देशों ने लगभग हमें मना  लिया है कि carbon  dioxide, methane, chloroflourocarbon इत्यादि जैसे गैसों की वजह  से हमारी धरती काफी गर्म हो चुकी है और महाविनाश निकट है। मैं इस बात से इन्कार नहीं करता कि पिछ्ले 200 सालों में मौसम में कोई permanent  बदलाव नहीं हुआ  है। मैं ये भी जानता हूँ कि Greenhouse गैसों का पृथ्वी के तापमान पर क्या असर हुआ  है। पर ये कहना कि ये सब महाविनाश कि निशानी है, ये किसी नौसिखिये कवि की कोरी कल्पना से ज्यादा गम्भीर नहीं लगता।

हम भारतीयों को तब टक किसी बात पर भरोसा नहीं होता जब तक  अमेरिका, ऑस्ट्रेलिया या जेनेवा जैसी जगह से किसी Dr . Robert  या Dr . Carter हमें कुछ Research करके न दिखायें। आपकी इस उत्सुकता को मिटाने के लिए मैं  ऑस्ट्रेलिया के Dr . Robert Carter  के रिसर्च से कुछ बताना चाहूँगा। उनके अनुसार जलवायु हमेशा से बदलता रहा है और बदलता रहेगा। साथ ही CO2 का असर Greenhouse  Effect में सिर्फ 5 से 6% है और 70% असर Water Vapour  यानि  पानी  के भाप का है।

अमेरिका के Jarret Wollstein  बताते हैं कि सन् 1000 एवं 1500 ई. के दौरान पृथ्वी वर्तमान से भी ज्यादा गर्म थी। साथ  ही 1450 ई. से 1850 ई. के बीच भी तापमान गिर गया था और 1940 से 1970 के बीच भी तापमान घटा था। मतलब ये कि इस गर्मी - सर्दी के दौर से इन्सानी हरकतों का तो कोई लेना-देना  ही नहीं है !! NASA की एक report के अनुसार सूर्य में पिछ्ले 100 सालों के Solar Flares सबसे ज्यादा गर्म रहे हैं। मंगल ग्रह पर भी बरफ पिघलती पाई गई है। इससे पहले कि इन्सान मंगल या सूर्य पर पहुँच पाता। Climate Change ने पहले ही जलवे दिखा दिए। Wollstein कि इस रिसर्च ने कितने इन्सानों का दिल तोड़ दिया होगा। इन्सानी ताकत की  ऐसी तौहीन? अफसोस!!

फिर भी मैं मानता हूँ  कि इन्सानों एवं उनकी सरकारों को Climate  Change के नाम पर कुछ न कुछ हाथ - पैर मारते रहना चाहिए। क्या है कि इससे मानव-जाति का आत्म-विश्वास बना रहता है।

भारत जैसे विकास-शील देश में भी National Action Plan for Climate Change के आठ मिशनों की यही कोशिश है। लेकिन इसका ये मतलब कतई नहीं है कि ये मिशन भारत के औद्योगिक विकास को धीमा कर दें।

सिर्फ इसलिए कि विदेशी पर्यटकों को घूमने को हरे-भरे जंगल मिलते रहें, हम उन जंगलों में रहने वाले भारतीयों को सड़क और बिजली से वन्चित नहीं कर सकते। देश केवल पहाड़ों, जंगलों और नदियों से नहीं बनता। वो बनता है उसके लोगों से। क्या झारखण्ड के एक बच्चे को सिर्फ इसलिए Thermal Power की बिजली नहीं मिलनी चाहिए क्योंकि उसके हिस्से का प्रदूषण कोइ अमेरिकी पहले ही फैला चुका है?

क्या Kyoto Protocol और Clean Development Mechanism  भारत जैसे देशों कि जिम्मेदारी हैं जहाँ 24 घंटों  कि बिजली आज भी एक Luxury है? यूरोप और अमेरिका ने जब चाहा, कोयलों से बिजली निकाली, फिर युरेनियम से और फिर Nuclear Bomb भी बनाया। लेकिन हम पवन-चक्कियों से गाँव को रोशन करें और युरेनियम भी उनसे पूछ  कर इस्तेमाल करें?

डराने वाले यूँ हि डराते  रहेंगे। 2030 में जब शायद मेरी औलाद दसवीं की परीक्षा दे रही होगी तो वे भी भगवान से मन्नत मांगेगी कि दुनिया उसकी परीक्षा से पहले ही खतम हो जाए। लेकिन भगवान ने न उसके बाप कि सुनी थि और न उसकी सुनेगा।

It was clear that the audience enjoyed the delivery of the speech. However, some of them also frowned on what they thought was blasphemic both for the academy as well as for Homi Bhabha. Much to the dissappointment of such people and much more to the sheer pleasure and surprise to us, I was awarded the first prize, thus becoming the Homi J Bhabha Orator of the Year 2012.


All I wanna say is, I am sorry Bhabha :)

Jai Ho Dodi Taal Ki

खच्चर घोड़ा पालकी
जय हो डोडी ताल की
धरवाधार के लाल की
जय बाबा भोकाल की

                                              Maggie के जब दाँव चले 

                                              और पर्वत पर पाँव चले 

                                              तन के गम को Rum ने साधा 

                                              बोतल ने किया दर्द आधा 

                                              फिर बात छिड़ी बवाल की 

                                              और शंकर जी भोकाल की 

                                              खच्चर घोड़ा पालकी 

                                              जय हो डोडी ताल की 

Pizza जब सर्गुन से छूटा
संगम चट्टी पर पुल टूटा
तब मुर्गों ने हि साथ दिया
कोरे खाने को स्वाद दिया

फिर चर्चा GD के चाल की
और झा One के धुएँ के  जाल की
खच्चर घोड़ा पालकी
जय हो डोडी ताल की

                                            सम्राट का टूटा मायाजाल
                                            साम्राज्ञी क जब पूछा हाल
                                            महिलाओं के तब दिल कुचले
                                            यमुना जी तब कूदे उछले

                                            फिर महक उठी कुछ 'माल' की
                                            और गप्पें ठाकुर के चाल की
                                            खच्चर घोड़ा पालकी
                                            जय हो डोडी ताल की

उन्नी के गाने जब फूटे
यशु के Scales कहीं छूटे
यमुना जी फिर जम के नाचे
और K K ने दोहे बाँचे

तब सभा लगी भोकाल की
और जयकार हुई घरपाल की
खच्चर घोड़ा पालकी
जय हो डोडी ताल की

Papa....Mere BAAP ho aap...

It was 30th of July. Exactly 60 days that Papa had a stroke. He has recovered a lot since then. He has started walking with a stick in his left hand (his right hand still doesn't do much) though he cannot speak well. In fact, it is his inability to speak that has created trouble for me and mom in looking after him. Mom so much expects him to lie on the bed like a patient and just be fed when required, take medicines, attend the physiotherapy and speech therapy sessions and keep lying on the bed at other times. But Papa is papa after all. He cannot speak, right, but he can think and that too a at a razor sharp speed. 

It has been only two weeks that we came to Bokaro from Delhi and Papa remembers all the stuff at home, right to the exact longitude and lattitude of that stuff. And he doesn't keep the information to himself. He would call us close and then start indicating at some corner of house where some important (or mostly unimpportant) stuff is lying. That day, he suddenly started tried saying something. Mom was in the kitchen. I was caught alone. Talking to Papa is like playing dumb charades. There is no word, only random sound with emotional modulations and we are to keep guessing. Sometimes he'll say "haan" and we'll pump the air and or else he'll say "Nahiiii" and we'll keep trying. More often than not, our failed attempts result in him crying and then we try various means to calm him down.

So I started guessing. 'Is it Diary?' 

"Nahiii". 

'Ok. Is it something you want me to bring?'

"Nahiii". 

'So do you want me to call someone? 

"Haan". 

'Ok. whom should I call.'

Then he started saying something which didn't make any sense. He then pointed out to the other room. I brought every little thing that could have a phone number written on it. But he didn't find the name he was looking for. Frustrated, he decided to search himself.

I got another chance to walk him. He stood up, held his stick and started walking to another room (which used to be his bedroom before the stroke). He found his shirts hanging by a hanger. He left the stick, stood without any support and started searching all pockets of his half a dozen shirts hung there. He finally got few bills. He took them, walked to the bed and sat down. He then segregated a bill of a jeweler and said. "Haan"

I saw the bill. I remembered that this was some shopping we had done almost ten days before papa's stroke. I asked him if the payment was due.

"Nahii"

I then checked that the bill had 'paid' written over it. I guessed that is it the bangles that we had given him for polishing that he hasn't returned.

"Nahiii"

My mom then popped in and told that those bangles were brought back by papa the next day itself. Then what was it. Papa pointed towards the mobile. 'Oh, so you want me to call the jeweller?"

"Haan" (with a big smile) We had finally won the first round of the dumb charades.

I found a landline number on the bill. Called it. 'Number does not exist'. Papa starts fuming. I promise him I'll go to the jeweller and get his mobile number. But then what was I supposed to talk to him, that was still not understood.

Papa went into crying and it took us a couple of hours to calm him down. We got all the jewelry of the house in front of him to assure that all was in place. He got more irritated. I then said that i am going to the jeweler right now. He stopped crying and almost said "Jaao"

I went out of the house. It was too hot and sunny outside. I roamed on the road for five minutes and came back saying to him the shop was closed. He found my cheating. He got very angry. Somehow we passed the day.

In the evening, he gathered himself back, called me towards him with utmost love on his face and started saying something. I guessed, 'Jeweler?' and bingo, he was still on this. I finally decided I'll listen to him. I went out to the jeweler's shop which was at about fifteen minutes walk. The jeweler was shocked to know of papa's illness and said he would come down to the house the very next day. I also took his mobile number and came back. I told papa that I have asked the jeweler to come home and you can ask him directly whatever you require. He thought I was still cheating. I had to call the jeweler and get him to speak to papa, only then did he believe me.

Next day, we had to go to the hospital. The jeweler came to our house, found it locked and went back. However, during the afternoon, mom started her usual gupshup and told me how Papa had said that if I clear IAS this time, he would offer a gold flute to Lord Krishna on Janmashtami. Last year, my mom had promised a silver flute if I clear UPSC. I had got IRS and the silver flute promise was fulfilled. Papa, being himself, thought that had mom promised a gold flute, I would have got IAS. He promised Krishna that if I get IAS, he would present him a gold flute. 

Mom was saying that now that Papa is not well, we'll wait for him to get well. Suddenly papa jumped up from bed and started saying something. Two months of dumb charades had made us good by now. We immediately realized that this is what he was telling us the previous day. To call the jeweler and ask him to make the flute. I immediately called the jeweler. He came to see us in ten minutes and told him that he had come yesterday.

When we told him about the flute, he said that Papa had already told him about the plan and he would get it made soon. Papa smiled and saw me and mom with a smirk on his face, as if saying, "You fools, you two thought that I am sick. Look, I am still on my plans."

Mom couldn't stop smiling and I had tears in my eyes. Papa, I know you'll speak one day and will run the house on your own. You are not someone who gets dependent on near ones. Had you not offered Lord Krishna the golden flute, he wouldn't have made me an IAS. We'll fulfill your promise and with Krishna's grace, you'll walk up to the temple yourself to make the offering. 

I could not imagine that even in this condition, he is so excited about my IAS and he is so concerned. And I was thinking I am taking care of him. I was wrong. I am still a kid. Baap to aap ho mere. :)

Child...Father of the Man

I can say it without exaggeration that whatever I have achieved in life is because of my parents. More so because of my father. He is not a wealthy man but I always had more cash in my pocket than I needed. He is neither very well educated (He did his matriculation and then trained at ITI as a Fitter), yet I was always showered with intelligent guidance and education tips. 

He's however, a typical father. You know, when you are a kid and go around places in a train and see things, you tend to ask your father, "Papa, what's that?" and every time he knows the answer. This is surprising. He told me what a railway bridge is, what a fertilizer plant is, why trees go back when we see them from the train and many more such answers. Also, he wrote most of my speeches and debates in school. (He did that in Hindi and then I translated to English) I owe so much to him that I can never repay. When last year, I was quite sad that my rank in Civil Services was only 292, he had made sure that I get enough media presence so that I feel happy about my result. This year, when I got rank 36, he was the happiest man on earth, never tired of looking his own photos in the news papers.

But that morning, everything changed. While sitting on a chair and cutting his nails, he suddenly got still. It was 30th May 2012 at around 9:30 am that we noticed that he wasn't moving. He seemed like looking into the void. We immediately called the doctor who said he had a stroke. We rushed to the nearby neuro hospital. It was found that he had a blood clot in his Left MCA (Middle Cerebral Artery) because of which he couldn't move his right limbs and could not speak. An injection was immediately given to dissolve the clot, but by then some damage was already done.

We were told that now nothing more can be done; we just have to wait for the first 6-7 days to pass and pray that no deterioration in his condition happens. Me and mom spent the next six days sleeping on the floor in the waiting hall meeting dad only for one hour each at 7 am and 7 pm, hoping every day that he gets better. On the third day, the doctors told us that the condition was stable and we should hope that it should further stabilize. The next day when mom and I went to see him, ICU staff had shaved him and he was smiling. That day both me and mom were happy for the day. Papa smiled. It seemed like our world will be restored to normal. At the end of seven days, he was shifted from the ICU to private room. Now we realized what all was lost in the process. Due to an infarct in his left MCA, he had temporarily lost his speech (Aphasia) and could not move his right limbs (Hemiplegia). It took him another couple of days when he could swallow from his mouth and was no longer being fed from nose. This seemed like another huge milestone. He then started taking medicines from mouth and injections were stopped. After spending two weeks in hospital, we were asked to take him home and do further recovery there.

He is still unable to speak or to move his right limbs, but we are trying. I spend my entire day sitting by his side. I am there when his shit is being cleaned, I am there when he is being bathed, I am there to feed him, I am there to give him medicines, I am there to help him sit up. It feels I have a child. When for the first time, he indicated that he felt like shitting, I got happy because he could sense this and it was no longer involuntary. I am now thinking of getting the urine tube removed hoping that he will not wet his pants but sense before he pees. He has now started taking full glasses of food with his left hand, while sitting without back support. We no longer spoon feed him while he's lying on the bed. He can now drag himself front and back and sideways using his left limbs. He also shifts himself from the bed to the wheel chair without much help. I had always known him to be a man of strong will and determination, and he is proving true to it, again.

I get pleasure from every small achievement. Now if I scratch his palm, he pulls away his right hand; he can bend his elbow. Though he still can't straighten it back. He is yet to move his fingers. When we scratch his foot, he bends his right knee. Today, he even tried straightening his bent leg. Since yesterday, we have started getting him to walk a few steps. I'll get him braces made for his right knee, so that he can stand without our support. He already tries to swing his right foot ahead while walking. I know he'll do everything one day. One day he will again walk on his foot and write with his hands.

He doesn't cry as much as he did in the first two weeks. Probably the anti-depressant is working or he is gaining confidence. In fact, now he smiles and waves to people who come to meet him. He even said "Hello" on phone when Gudia called, though the 'L' sound didn't come so well. He still can't speak words. But he tries to move his tongue. Yesterday, he moved his tongue left and right and am sure he'll soon lift his tongue up as well. He cannot blow air from his mouth but he has started sucking stuff in. His diaphragm is gradually gaining control. We can sense that he can't read, neither can he write with his left hand. Doctors say that these things will come slowly when he starts speaking.

Every day, I see some progress. It is about a month that he had that stroke. This is the 5th week to be precise. Like a new born child he's gaining his senses slowly and daily. He doesn't shit his pants now, am sure he'll no longer wet the bed too. He can gulp a glass of milk or lassi or mashed rice with milk. Am sure he will chew a Roti very soon. He can stand on one leg with our support; am sure I will see him walking on his own very soon. He makes random sounds from his mouth; am sure he'll speak fluently one day.

He must have seen me growing everyday 29 years ago. He was always confident that one day I will go to bathroom on my own and one day I'll learn to read and write and one day I'll speak full sentences with fluency and that one day I'll no longer be dependent on him. Today I am equally confident that I'll see him do all this one day. If he can make a lump of flesh and bones walk, talk, read, and live in this world, why can't I?

I know I am his child and he is my father, but child is the father of the man. May be now, like a father, I'll make him walk and talk in the same way that he made me do so years ago. Papa, I know you'll do it and I'll be by your side every day to see you growing. All the best to you. May God get you back to your normal self very soon.

Congratulations or All the Best?

This is not the first time I have received Congratulations, and as always it feels good. However, a scary thought runs through my mind this time. This might be the last Congratulations I received. I have mostly been congratulating for some or the other academic achievement. I stood 1st in my school in Class 10th. Congratulations. Got selected in JEE 2002 with 811 rank. Congratulations. Got a job in Hindustan Unilever. Congratulations. Cleared Civil Services and got into IRS. Congratulations. Now got selected again with a rank of 36. Congratulations. But, now what.

There are no other exams that I'll write now and no other ranks that I would get. That means a sad end of the student life that was full of exams, results, failures, successes, ranks and congratulations. But, now that I shall be turning thirty, life shall not be the same. I am hoping that I shall be joining the IAS by August and after some months of training, will be posted to some place to look after the administration of a block or a subdivision in some district. There would be riots, road blocks, dharnas, unemployment issues, schools not running properly, power cuts, human trafficking, caste violence and god knows what else. And I shall be expected to resolve these issues. Gosh!! This is scary. Damn too scary. What if I am unable to deliver? What if I don't have a solution to these problems? How would I answer those who would hold me accountable for anything?

Will those people go and "like" some stupid Facebook status of mine or comment on my random blogs? Will they congratulate me that sometime my pictures came in some newspapers for clearing an exam? No.Not at all. They would tear me into pieces. I have got a job to do and I should better know how to do it well. 

In that case, how does it matter whether I am rank 36 or 66 or just 6 or even 1. If I am a sloppy officer then I am no good. These ranks and these newspaper clippings and TV interviews will be forgotten in few days. So I don't need congratulations this time. I need "All the Best" and "Good Luck". And most of all I need a pretty good training. I am counting on the Training Academies involved that they must have devised ways to train us for such diverse challenges.

If there is one Congratulation that I aspire for, is that 30 years later when I turn 60, someone comes up to me, reminds me of my 30 years of service and says, "Good Job Done". 

Fingers Crossed.

Aaj neend hi nahin in aankhon mein

आज नींद ही नहीं इन आँखों में 

आज नींद ही नहीं इन आँखों में

एक चाँद की तमन्ना की थी इन आँखों ने

एक बीज बोया था इन आँखों ने

मन की कोमल मिटटी पर एक फूल उगाने का

एक सपना देखा था इन आखों ने 

उस सपने को अक्सर  पूरा होने से पहले

बिखर कर खोते देखा है इन आँखों ने

पर समेट कर बिखरे तुकडे 

फिर से संजोया है वही सपना इन आँखों ने

इक बार हाथ में आई तो थी सफलता 

पर अधूरा सपना कह कर नकार दिया इन आँखों ने

चढ़ा कर नयी आंच पर पुरानी हांडी 

फिर से वही सपना पकाया इन आँखों ने

आज जब पका सपना सामने परोसा है

तो क्यों न जश्न मनाया इन आखों ने?

मूँद कर नरमी से बोझिल हो कर

क्यों न आराम पाया इन आँखों ने?

क्यों नींद ही नहीं इन आँखों में?