Singers of SPS 1976 Batch - Episode 1

Parimal Majmudar

Parimal always had this ingenuity which took me decades to appreciate. Those who have read my blog for class 5 would recall how when the new section ‘C’ was formed - Parimal along with some others like me, Shashank, Poonam and Renu…. in section ‘A’ found himself moved to section ‘C’. But unlike us Parimal was smart. He got a letter from home and had himself rerouted to section ‘B’ where he had many friends. Dear readers it was not the first time he had used this strategy!

 Let me first narrate when he accepted a shuffle across sections. After the summer break in Class 4, Parimal came with others including - Atul, Amul, Shashank, Bhatta, Arun Ohri, Chandrashekhar Chaudhary, Rajiv Bagai, Charanjit, Umesh, Poonam, Neeru, Neelam, Renu et al, to 4A.

 I remember Parimal as an expert on the 2 monkey bar steel structures we had in the playground. One which had an inverted V shape was towards the main entrance gate of school, and was particularly formidable for the kids. Not only was it higher but also had a shape that made it tougher to go from one end to the other. While we struggled on the monkey bar, Parimal like a trapeze artist would negotiate 2 hand bars at a time, and reach the other end in no time. Parimal was a friendly sort, but kids for some reason called him ‘Tadimal’. All of us who have been in Delhi of 60s would instantly recall the word तड़ी, which has now gone totally out of fashion.

We used to have a music class to hone our singing skills up to Class 4, which ceased in Class 5. Mrs. Wagh used to teach us music, with a Bengali gentleman who never spoke, on tabla. We later learnt that he actually was a dance teacher. In the music room located on the ground floor of the new building, we would sit down on the carpet and sing along with Mrs. Wagh who would play harmonium. Parimal had kept his talent hidden in the music class.

At the time we were in class 4, the division of Houses for Seniors and Juniors in SPS was yet to take place – it happened one year later. I was in Tolstoy House and our House Master was Mr. Arvind who taught science in the middle school. He was assisted by a petite lady teacher who was fluent in English but for some reason said ‘Tolustoy’ for Tolstoy. One day when we were having a house meeting in walked Parimal and presented a letter to the House Master. It was a request that he be shifted to Tolstoy House. 

His request was readily acceded, and as he was the new kid in the house he was asked to perform some extra-curricular activity as an initiation rite.Parimal then sang a Mukesh song from the hit movie Milan - मुबारक हो सबको समां ये सुहाना, मैं खुश हूँ मेरे आंसुओं पे ना जाना, मैं तो दीवाना, दीवाना, दीवाना| Parimal sang it really well. It was the first time I had heard him. After Class 4 we never had a common section or a common House and I never heard him sing again. He has a nasal twang in his voice, and I bet he sings pretty well even today.

Haute Potato's School Days - Class V

Coming to class 5 meant saying good bye to teachers who taught us in grade 4. Ms. Kapoor taught us Science in 4A. One day in class 4, Ms. Kapoor asked for Atul’s diary to write a remark of appreciation. That was the first time I realized that school diaries could be used for writing comments other than – ‘Homework not done!’

Mrs. Padma taught us Social Studies. There was a question in our social studies book, “why are Himalayas so called?” Although the book had explanation in terms of ‘Him’ (meaning Ice) and ‘alaya’ (meaning home), Mrs. Padma thought that there was a typographical error and that the question should have read ‘why are Himalayas so cold?’ This modified question featured in our final exams too. I met Mrs. Padma after a number of years at a school reunion and was fascinated to find that she remembered me as one of her students.

Some of the class buddies of 4A were Chandershekhar Chaudhary, Anjan Ghosh, Ajoy Dasgupta, Lalit, Rachna Kohli and Amul Gabrani. Amul was very fair and had hair darker than usual. Smartly dressed, he always looked well groomed. I don’t recall Amul ever getting angry or fighting with anyone. One day when we were coming back from the sports field Amul told me that his little cousin had joined the KG wing - a single storied building inbetween the junior and the senior wings. He pointed out his cousin from the window of the class. As we were looking at the young girl when she tuned around and saw Amul peeping through the window. There was a flash of recognition in her face which immediately gave way to loud weeping. Poor Amul did not know what to do. We beat a hasty retreat.

Chandershekhar Chaudhary used to stay near the school. He left the school in class 6 or 7 and I again met him at Hindu College where he was pursuing B Com. Never into sports in Salwan he had taken to tennis in his new school. He showed me how to spot a tennis player by displaying his two arms. One could clearly see that a few years of tennis develops the playing forearm significantly compared to the non playing arm.

Neelam Mahajan left the school in class 5. We learnt that she had joined Salwan girls school in a class ahead of us. It was a big surprise when she came back to Salwan Public in class 9 (I think). Not only did she gain in terms of being a year ahead, but also in confidence and spoken English, which was amazing considering that Salwan girls school was Hindi medium.

Arun Ohri also left the school after class 4 and I never met him again.

Neera Garg’s house was opposite school. She was a relatively short, smartly dressed and just short of being stout. That is how she remained throughout the school - short, well dressed and just short of being plump. Inspired by Ashish’s ‘Mote Lala’, she had her own version of a funny poem ‘Mere Chachaji’.

View From the Top Floor
Class 5 was on the top floor of the junior wing, from where we tested the flight of our differently designed paper airplanes as they made journey to the ground floor below in different trajectories.

After the initial lull a big change took place in class 5A too. One day we had a senior teacher coming to the class who told us that new section ‘C’ was being created. He read out names of the students who were to go to class 5B and class 5C. Bhatta, Rajeev Bagai et al joined class 5B. Poonam, Shashank, Rajkumar Ahuja, Renu Dhamija, Anjan Ghosh and I were allotted class 5C.

I resented leaving my friends of 5A. Smarter amongst us like Parimal (called Tadimal by classmates) quickly brought a letter from parent and reversed the transfer. By the time I became alert to this possibility it was too late. I continued to be in class 5C where I made new friends.

Mrs. Mathai was our new class teacher, and taught us general science. Mrs. Bhan taught us English, and was later replaced by Mrs. Kapoor, who went on to become headmistress of the junior wing. Ms. Rita Verma was the new arts teacher who replaced Mr. K L Sharma our drawing teacher in class 4.

My new classmates included Rajinder Khazanchi, Yograj, Sunil Khurana, Rajeev Kathuria, Srinder Singh Bilkhu, Vinod Popli, B Sujata, Yashoda Chitre, Rita and Sarita Gaind amongst others.

Amongst the many incidents that remain etched in the memory pertaining to class 5C, the one which stands out is Rita asking Mrs. Mathai why she said ‘YUM’ for ‘M’. Mrs. Mathati hailing from Kerala had pink complexion. If it was possible to become pinker then that was what happened to her. She blushed and stared at Rita without saying a word.

In Persuit of total Development
Salwan Public in those days aimed at total development of students. In this pursuit one used to have long hours in winter extending up to 4:30 PM in the evening. To keep us engaged for these long hours we used to have hobby or PT /sports period in the last hour. The only problem was that the school was totally ill equipped to impart the skills / arts it sought to promote.

I had chosen music as my preference in the junior school. This hobby class was to be overseen by Mr. Chaddha who was teaching social studies to the middle school. Always dressed in suit in winters Mr. Chaddha later joined Salwan College as a lecturer. The initial sessions in the music hobby class had us singing some of the then hit movie songs. But our mentors very soon ran out of ideas and it became a waste of time.

The sports / PT session also did not improve our skills in any sporting activity. Its only output was to prepare us for the mass PT which used to be performed on our annual sports day. I had chosen hockey as my preferred sports. Mr. Bhardwaj our sports teachers had little knowledge of hockey. He would make us stand in a row and each person was given a chance to hit the ball with the hockey stick. I was standing next to Charna in one of the hockey sessions. Charna took an aim at the ball and swung the hockey stick with all his might. The stick missed the ball, and after huge swing hit me smack on my left ear. Everyone had a good laugh at my expense.

A year later Mr. Bhardwaj took to teaching social studies and Mr. Dube the other PT teacher left the school. We had new sports teacher - Mr. Harish and Mr. Inder Singh, who were knowledgeable about hockey, football and basketball. I did pick up hockey under them, and represented the school in a tournament in class 9.

Our House meetings were much more fun. There were Junior Houses up to class 6, after which one moved to Senior Houses. I was in Azad house up to class 6. Mrs. Sharma (our maths teacher of class 4) and Mrs. Padma were in charge of Azad House. In our first house meeting we were confided that the name of the house was after Maulana Abdul Kalam Azad and not Chandrashekhar Azad.

The high point of the houses was the annual sports day when houses used to compete with each other and the house getting maximum points used to get the sports trophy for the year. Rajinder House (actually Rajendra House - it was named after Dr. Rajendra Prasad - but courtesy Mr. Walia the House Master and Punj influence was always called Rajinder) won the trophy that year on the athletic excellence of Vikesh Sharma who was a year senior to us.

Class V C
Class 5 was also the last year that we had books from UK – English by Stages - as our English text books. From class 6 we had ‘English Today’ the indigenous English language book (I believe that we still have along way to go to catch up to the standards set by UK text books).

English by Stages had wonderful stories. One of them was about a boy in the hostel who was afraid of heights. He was helped by the school prefect to overcome his fear. Later having become the school prefect himself he rescued the younger brother of his mentor when the hostel building was on fire. Another wonderful story dealt with a dog called Cram Bam Bulle and his indecisiveness in choosing between the former and the new master.

One day we were going through a story in ‘English by Stages’ about a Japanese village where no one had seen a mirror. Each character in the story – the merchant, his wife, and the judge drew different inferences by looking at their own image.

We were in the middle of the story when in walked Mr. P C Chaudhary our Principal. Silence engulfed the class and one could have heard a feather fall. Mr. Chaudhary browsed through the story and asked us the meaning of ‘image’. Amongst us all in the class it was B Sujata who mustered the courage to reply. The principal was appreciative, and asked before leaving the class if she had seen the movie Sujata, to which she responded in affirmative. This is the only time Mr. Chaudhary ever came to our class during all my years in Salwan.

The book that I really loved in class 5 was ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’. We had an abridged edition with a different ending, still the book made a huge impact on me. It was only a year later that I read the voluminous novel in original.

An even more abridged version of great novels came in the form of Classic comics . How can one ever forget the beautifully drawn picture of the novel ‘The last of the Mohicans’ on the back cover of all classic comics. Rajeev Bagai had brought ‘Count of Monte Cristo’, as published by classic comics, to the school. It was being circulated amongst us, as each one of us took turns to go through the comic. But then disaster struck. An overzealous teacher confiscated it and was sufficiently enraged to tear it. Our protestation that was it was a part of our curriculum was totally lost on her.

Classmates of VC
For a year in class 5C I had the company of Sunil Khurana. He was with us only for a year and the left the school in class 6. Sunil had light coloured eyes and a very pleasing temperament. One day in the class I was hit by something on my cheek. I would not have been able to solve the mystery but for the teacher catching Sunil Khurana in the act. Sunil had brought a small glass tube and a packet of moong dal. He would put a moong dal grain in the glass tube, aim at the target person, and blow the tube from the other end. The grain would shoot through the air like a projectile and hit the target with a great accuracy.

Another part of his repertoire was his imitation of a girl’s walk. He used to come wearing a pullover of a larger than required size, which he would stretch to cover his shorts fully. Then he would walk swinging his hips with each step. I imitated his walk at home and it became a big hit.

Yashoda Chitre also left the school after class 5. She and Sujata always spoke in English. Yashoda was very delicately built. Surinder Singh Bilkhu once narrated how in the shot put event where Yashoda was competing, she threw the ball backwards as her wrist buckled under the weight of the ball .

Class 5 ended with Khazanchi topping the class, a feat he accomplished in all the classes up to 10th grade. It was still a year to go by when Khazanchi and I would become close friends.

Haute Potato's School Days

I won my coca cola. Mom had said that if I make it to class 4 entrance test of Salwan Public School, I could have a coke as a reward. I had gone through the class 3 maths book of Salwan with some devotion as preparatory for the entrance test. Perhaps all that was not required. We were tested on a question that required application of division. In the section on English and Hindi, there were fill in the blanks and essays. Mr. Haldar a senior teacher of school took the test. A short list was prepared after the answer sheets had been checked. I was to report to class 4A in the junior wing.

My tryst with Salwan Public School opened a new dimension in my life. My earlier school – Roop Nagar Public School – was at walkable distance from my home at Shakti Nagar. Going to Salwan Public School at Rajinder Nagar meant that we had to travel by the school bus. One spent about an hour going and about an hour coming in the school bus which had kids from different classes, many much younger and many older, traveling together. Traveling by school bus also meant a good amount of Delhi darshan. How else I would have seen the grain mandi of ‘Naya Bazar’, Pul Bangash, Azad Market, Dilli gate, Sita Ram Bazar, Lal Quila, Cannaught Place, Kashmiri Gate, Roshnara Gardens on a daily basis.

We used to travel in charted buses hired by a travel agency named ‘Punja Sahib’. Kids nearer school were ferried by three buses owned by school, which were named ‘mini bus’, ‘new bus’, and ‘buddhi bus’. These buses were driven by ‘maalis’, who used to double as bus drivers. It is interesting how the concept of multi-skilling so much in vogue in industry today, was in practice in a school in 1960s.

Our everyday journey gave us an early insight to roads and routes around Delhi. On occasions when the driver will be new, one of us will become a guide for the bus routes and stops. A sight unforgettable in Delhi of those days was the cinema hoardings. Made in larger than life cutouts they left a big impression on our young minds.

Class 4A was an interesting bunch. Teachers formed an equally engaging lot. We had Ms. Singh teaching us social studies, Ms Kapoor teaching Science, Mrs. Wig teaching maths. Mrs. Wagh was the music teacher and keeping her company was a gentleman who will play tabla and speak very little. We later on came to know that he was also the dance teacher. We also had a lady sports teacher who shielded us from the might of Mr. Bhardwaj and Mr. Dube for whom sports only meant mass PT (something that was utterly disliked by all kids).

I have only a faint recollection of the initial two months before the summer break. Ms. Singh had this endearing quality of calling me ‘Sanju’ – the first time I recollect any one calling me so. Mrs. Wig the maths teacher was prevailed upon by students to tell us a story. What a wonderful story teller she was! She told us the story in hindi of ‘The Mill on the Floss’ and ‘The House of Wax’ as I later discovered. I don’t remember much of the 2 months, as a big change was set to happen after the summer break both in terms of class composition and the faculty.


After the summer break we discovered that a number of teachers had changed. Mrs. Wig probably retired. Ms. Singh left. Mrs. Sharma was our new maths teacher. Soon enough there was a big reshuffle in the class. Most of the students of class 4A were sent to 4B and many from 4B came to our section.

Prominent new comers to 4A were Atul Bagai, the studious kid with specs, who was the class topper, and others, namely, Rajiv Bagai, Charanjeet Singh (called Charna), Arun Ohri, and Deepak Bhatnagar (called Bhatta).

The class also had dominating presence of three little ladies – Poonam Trikha, Neelam Mahajan, and Neeru Seth. Usually girl students in a co-ed class tend to be mild, submissive lot. But not this trio. Neeru Seth matched boys in her wit and talking abilities.

Shortly we were joined by a new teacher Mrs. Nanda, who taught us English and was also our new class teacher. Along with Mrs. Nanda came Ashish, her son. Mrs. Nanda had one of the biggest impacts on me. An extra ordinarily good natured person – she had a motherly demeanor. A wonderful teacher, she was ever encouraging and provided a degree of comfort to our small worlds.

Ashish did not wear specs then. His first claim to fame in class 4A was his recitation of a hindi poem he had learnt in his earlier school. I still recall its words :

‘Mote Lala chale bazaar
Haath me pakde thaile chaar
Mota thul thul unka pet
Jaise ho India ka gate
Lala chalte ludhak ludhak kar
Munna bhaage fudak fudak kar
Badi sadak par zara thahar kar
Lala ji ne kela khaya
Kela kha kar, munh bichka kar
Chhilke ko phir wahin giraya
Paon badha kar jyon hi rakhha
Paon ke neeche chhilka aya
Chhilke ke bal Lala phisle
Badi sadak par gire dhadam
Haddi pasli dono tuti
Munh se nikla hai Raam’

Ashish will present this poem complete with enactment. It soon became one of the biggest hits in class 4A. At the end of the poem the entire class will shout in unison ‘hai Raam’.

The new class 4A had a very good mix. We had studious lot like Atul, Ashish was just coming up then. He had promised his mother that he will try to come first and nearly made it in the end. Second in class 4, and had to wait for a year before topping in class in 5. Ashish and I sat together in class 4, and chose each other to write the essay on ‘Best friend’. There were portents of future in young Ashish. I remember Mrs. Nanda telling us the difference between ‘dear’ and ‘deer’ in a class and asking students to make sentences to bring out the difference, when Ashish came out with this original one, “Dear, deer is very dear’.

Deepak Bhatnagar – Bhatta – was ahead of us in his interests. Best in the class in sports – he had this able lieutenant – Arun Ohri , who led the bunch comprising Rajeev Bagai and Charna, and was the biggest fan of Bhatta. Bhatta was good in athletics and had won 1st prize in races and such events which were a part of our annual calendar. Bhatnagar was also a great one in telling stories. He would be the constant source of film stories – some real some imaginary – that ended in us being thrown out of the class in punishment.

There were other interesting characters – Adiesh Jain and Kuldeep who were remarkably chubby. I was once a witness to a fight between the two. It was a fight in slow motion. Still I did not realize why kids should not be afraid of bullies in the lower classes who have weight advantage. The correct strategy was shown by Sunil Kurana my class buddy in VC. The approach to take on an overweight kid is simple – ‘hit and run’. It is impossible for a chubby kid to run after you and catch you. Soon the overweight kids will give up and start avoiding you.

It would be impossible to end class 4A experience without remembering B Umesh, Jaiveer Srivastava (who also joind school in class 4) and Shashank. Shashank and I knew each other before I joined Salwan as both his mother and my mother taught in Daulat Ram College, and I joined Salwan because Shashank was in it. Shashank had picked me in his essay on best friend and I felt guilty when I wrote Ashish in mine. Shashank had written that not only us but our mothers are best friends too.

An Evening in the Winter of ‘71

Our school bus was late that day. The winter timing in the school was from 8:30 in the morning to 4:30 in the evening. The school bus used to take us around a good part of Delhi and drop us at our stop at Shakti Nagar only after an hour or so. The onset of winter meant that it was dusk by the time we returned home.

As the bus turned from Azad market to Pul Bangash my eyes were riveted on the long goods train passing underneath the old bridge. The goods train was carrying an unusual load that evening. The open wagons of the goods train displayed big field guns being ferried on the tracks leading to Punjab, bordering West Pakistan.

For past 6 months or so there were news items about skirmishes in the regions bordering erstwhile East Pakistan. In the north India we were getting used to the war time civilian drills, the foremost amongst which was to switch off the lights in the evening - called blackout, whenever a hooter sounded. We would then wait patiently for the second hooter after which we could switch on the lights.

That evening I reached home past 6.00 PM and was struggling with my school homework when the hooter sounded. Our wait for clearing hooter was inordinately long that evening. More than an hour passed but we did not get the signal that the blackout period was over. Around 9.00 PM our neighbor Mrs. Chopra told us, “You people better have your dinner. The blackout is going to continue. The airport at Srinagar has been bombarded!”

I still recall the events preparatory to an imminent war. In the neighboring schools Z shaped trenches had been dug out to provide safety in the event of any arial bombings.

The war drills enrolled enthusiastic civilian volunteers who would rush up to any house emitting lights from windows or doors. Many a times our newspaper shields on the window glasses and ventilators would fail in their duty and we would be asked to switch off the lights. We had a candlelight dinner that evening.

In the morning the news was all over. Pakistan bombers had attacked five airports in India. India retaliated by bombing seven airports in Pakistan. Very soon India and Pakistan were officially at war.

We had blackouts every evening till the war continued. One night I woke up in my sleep hearing the loud noise of a plane flying at low height. I called out to my mother and found that she also had woken up. We spent some anxious moments till sufficient time had passed assuring us that all was well.

My Nani in Bihar enquired my relatives how far Delhi was from Pakistan, and whether it was within the air strike range of Pakistan.

Soon the war was over and a new nation Bangladesh was born. The newspapers and magazines were full of war stories and became a staple diet for us. As I look back those times I am reminded of a school debate before the war broke out. I was the only person who had spoken against war.

Reading Books and other Hobbies : The Summers of 1970s

I have set an incentive for my son Pratyush. If he reads a chapter of the Harry Potter book - lying with him for more than a year; then he can watch the Cartoon Network show between 8 to 9 P.M. - a nonsensical serial he is hooked on to is coming these days around that time. The incentive system worked precisely for two days!

I some times read with interest and sadness how the era of book reading is over. With so many avenues of knowledge and entertainment, books as a past time have lost ground. Unlike the times in our childhood when the only way to beat heat during summer vacation was to latch on to a book, or play cards or ludo; kids can now spend hours on a computer game, or watch non stop nonsense churned out by numerous channels catering to kids and adults.

We as kids never had the choice.

Doordarshan - the only TV channel for a long time - was available only at Delhi and subsequently at Bombay. The national network reaching out to the rest of the country came only after the Asian Games of 1982.

Aso, Doordarshan up to early Eighties was fully confined to the socialistic mumbo jumbo, that TV in a developing country should primarily be for educational and development purpose. As a consequence we had one hour of Krishi Darshan, followed by News and some programmes devoted to discussion and debates in Hindi and English. Occasionally one would get to see some imported serials from the UK or US - which used to become hugely successful. The only progarammes catering to pure entertainment were the Sunday movie and the Wednesdays Chitrahar. So kids as well as adults had a lot of time to deal with - especially during the holidays.

Books were a great source of entertainment and past time in those days. We as a family were voracious book readers. Magazines and comics were available on hire from a number of shops in the neighborhood. We had access to books from college and university libraries – courtesy our mother, and, you would not believe - we had mobile libraries run by Delhi Public Library which used to come to each colony on a weekly basis.

I got initiated into book reading very early and by the time was through with the school, could claim to be an adequately read person. My earliest assault was on kids magazine - Chandamama, Parag, and Nandan. By the time one reached class four Enid Blyton set our imagination on fire through her books on kid detectives solving mysteries.

Around the same time we got into reading classics. ‘Treasure Island’ by R L Stevenson was the beginning. ‘Kidnapped’ followed soon enough, taking us to a different world centuries ago.

We had classics even in our text. In class five we had an abridged version of ‘Count of Monte Cristo’ by Alexander Duma. It was only a year later that I could lay my hand on the full version from a college library and found that the book ran into more than 1000 pages.

That was when the battle began between me and my sister. The full version of the novel was too voluminous. Despite the intensive grip of unfolding plot we could at best give it couple of hours of intensive reading before taking a break. By the time I was rejuvenated to continue another sortie on the book – it was invariable in the captivity of my sister. Obviously a different strategy was required.

The book had come on my request, so I believed that I had the right to finish it first. I therefore started hiding the book after the reading fatigue would set in. Some times my sister would discover it some times she would not. The strategy worked, and I was able to finish the book at the expense of my sister.

More than a decade later browsing through some books at Khan Market I came across ‘The Count of Mounte Cristo’. I purchased the book immediately and wrote a small line before giving it to my sister - ‘To my Didi, to atone for the sins of the past’.

After a couple of months I asked her how she found the book. She said that the book was good, but no longer had the kind of hold it had on us as kids. I borrowed the book and quickly realized what she said was true. Grown ups can never feel the intensity of the narrative as it unfolds to a kid. A number of books are to be read only at a certain age after which it no longer means the same.

That the modern age kids are not drawn to books came as a shock to me when I discovered that my nephew and niece, then in class 7 and 5, had not read the classics such as ‘Kidnapped’ and ‘Journey to the Centre of the Earth’ lying at their home.

Does the modern era mean a gradual end to book reading? Although book shops are having a tough time to survive in the West, one is still struck by the number of people carrying books and reading books in the buses, trams and Underground Metros etc. The public libraries also have a good number of visitors. How come we have dwindling number in our country?

At an international airport a couple of years ago I found a little girl of class five or six reading a big fat book. I was surprised. That was how I came to know of J K Rowling and Harry Potter series that restarted book reading as a hobby for the kids in Britain.

But my incentive system had failed to work on Pratyush. He has seen the Harry Potter movies – courtesy POGO channel, so reading the book is avoidable. I only feel sad that reading the great classics and fantastic novels would never mean the same, even if Pratyush finds interest to read at a later stage some day.

Close Encounters with an Indian Public Sector Undertaking

Interviewing Chairman SAIL

I was young and naive then and a part of a small but energetic consultancy organisation, which was aghast that the Union Budget - the single most important economic event in the financial calendar of the country - does not get the coverage it deserves on Doordarshan.

The incident relates to the era when one did not have a channel other than Doordarshan as an option. Nevertheless, Doordarshan was convinced of the importance to have a series of programmes covering presentation of Economic Survey, the Railway Budget, and the Union Budget.

The coverage of the Union Budget that year was to be made exciting, as an expert panel on Doordarshan was to discuss and debate the budgetary proposals trickling down via our contact placed in Parliament and through the the tickers of UNI and PTI. To remind the younger generation again - live coverage of proceedings of the parliament was yet to find acceptance in those times.

For the programmes leading to live budget coverage we had planned a series of interviews with eminent economists, bureaucrats and corporate leaders. In our list of potential interviewees the only public sector chief to figure was Chairman, SAIL and I was assigned the task of fixing an appointment and interviewing him.

I started my quest with a ring to SAIL PBX, which was quickly transferred to the Chairman’s office.

“I am speaking on behalf of Doordarshan. As you are aware, the presentation of the Union Budget is to take place in a couple of days, for which we would like to interview Chairman, SAIL. May I speak with him ?” I bumbled.

The voice on the other side was curt and brief “Chairman is busy right now. If you leave your name and phone number we will get back to you.”

I divulged the required information, and waited patiently for the call confirming the date and venue.

The list of questions with which I was to confront Chairman, SAIL, was reviewed and refined over the day but I did not get the call of confirmation. Next day, I repeated my call and we went through exactly the same sequence without any progress. The third day a colleague of mine tried her luck. Although she could talk much longer than I did, her attempt also failed. Ultimately, we decided to throw in the towel.

Incidentally, that year we were able to successfully interview among others Rajiv Gandhi, the then Prime minister, who was also holding the finance portfolio.

SAIL : A First Hand Experience

I was yet to become a part of the SAIL fraternity. As a part of our consultancy assignment we had to visit the steel plants. The first visits in our itinerary were Bokaro and Durgapur.

I can never forget my first plant visit. The larger than life industrial structures defied imagination. We were awe struck by the sheer size of different process centres in the steel plant. Eager to learn, we spent almost 4 to 5 days in Bokaro, visiting different shops in day time and holding discussions with the plant personnel in the afternoon.

I am reminded of an interesting incident during our visit. In one of the meetings, a young finance officer was present in the group of technical experts briefing us on the technology and economics of coke making and bye products generation. Time and again the young finance officer would contravene what the technical experts would have us believe. In the end he was brow beaten to keep mum for rest of the meeting. But we had caught on, and had a separate meeting with him in the evening to have a better grip of reality. It is only now that I marvel at his self confidence. How tough it is to speak in a dissenting note in a hierarchical organisation, can be known only after spending a few years in a corporate set up.

A Part Of The Family

As a Junior Manager I was given the opportunity of speaking to a group of 200 to 250 MTTs joining SAIL in 1988. I was to speak on the Public Sector and its performance. Although the idea of lecturing a group of such a formidable size made me nervous, I was more unsure about communicating the issues of economics to a technically oriented group.

The interaction with MTTs is one of the most cherished surprises of my professional career. In no time during my interaction, it became clear that I was interacting with a highly intelligent group. All the questions that I threw at them were answered with panache and originality. Their spark and pep was contagious. Interacting with Management Trainees is an eye opener to what a fine talent organisations like SAIL draw at the entry level. However, the public sector enterprises have yet to evolve the environment where the spark in the young is nurtured to its potential. The drudgery and the routine of every-day life takes away from young professionals their pep, and from the organisation, the voices of dissent which is such an important ingredient for any organisational break through.

In Support of Staff

“How did you reach me ?” I enquired over the phone to the friend of mine, who had tracked me down to the computer centre on my second day of joining the office.

“It is one of the biggest surprises for me too” responded my friend from the private sector. “I just told the operator that my friend Sanjay has joined SAIL. I do not know which department or which building.” my friend elaborated.

With that information, the operator rang up Corporate Planning where he knew some fresh persons had joined, and found that I had gone to the first floor computer centre. He then tracked me down on the first floor and passed on the call. Instances like this makes one think how public sector can be as good as the best in the private sector if the staff is well trained and motivated. Sadly, instances such as above are not the norm.

Another big surprise for me was the first Private Sectretary (PS) we worked with. Personal Computers (PCs) had just been introduced in SAIL, and most of the staff did not have exposure to it. The PS attached to our group - Economic Cell, was also an Office Bearer in the Union. We were unsure about how much of help we could get from him. Here again we were in for a surprise. The PS attached to us was willing to learn the use of the PC from scratch. We had entrusted to him a job which involved a substantial amount of data punching in spreadsheets. Despite his time commitment to the Union, we found that he stayed back to finish the assigned work after office hours. His quality of work had the highest degree of accuracy, and his management of various tasks at the same time, a lesson for novices like us.

“In a private sector you would have been my boss and not a subordinate,” I gushed in admiration.

Personal Planning

One area where PSUs definitely score over private sector is that of personal planning. I never knew how to calculate income tax before I joined SAIL. In my earlier organisation a Chartered Accountant used to work out all the details for us, while we continued with our level of ignorance. In SAIL I found that every officer was able to work out optimal savings and taxes according to his/her preference.

We also discovered that every one was very well informed about the pecuniary benefits available under the company rules, and acted in a shameless capitalistic fashion to optimise it. One possible way of channelling this enterprise is to link it with the organisation’s progress in a more direct way. How such systems can be created is the challenge for enterprises world over.

On privatisation

I some times wonder why the issue of privatisation evokes such strong emotions in public sector employees. The proportion of excellence in public sector would not be any different from private. The only difference is that the excellent and hard working professionals in PSUs or Government work much harder as they have to compensate for the portion of the workforce that knows that it can get away without putting in the effort due from each employee.

Seen in this light the good professionals should have nothing to fear and the majority nothing to lose except a bit of free time. It is after all generally accepted, that the work shirkers - which any way is in minority, should either tone up or leave. So why this apprehension ?

A MID POINT RETROSPECT

“So what do you do ?” queried Tanuka, my batch-mate from Delhi University.

“I get up in the morning, reach the office, spend the day, leave for home, watch TV, have dinner, sleep, and then get ready for the office.” I responded.

“But you used to have such varied interests, what happened to those?” she persisted. I just smiled and kept quiet.

Indeed I had varied interests. But all that seems so long ago. We used to follow almost all the cultural events in Delhi. Mandi House was an oft frequented place, where we would drop by almost without any plans, to see - plays, classical or folk music and dance performances, and exhibitions of artists - budding or well known.

I have a feeling which is probably true for many of us - concentrating on professional aspirations comes at the expense of interests cultivated in years gone by.

As a student out of school, sports usually is the first casualty.

Sports and Statistics

I was very keen on cricket in the school days. We used to participate in summer \ hot weather tournaments promoting club cricket in Delhi. When I joined Hindu College my friends from school advised me to refrain from joining the cricket team. Those who joined the cricket team were supposed to do nothing but play cricket. You have to miss the classes and unless you are doing something like BA (Pass Course), clearing the exams could be very troublesome. I had already been warned that the pass rate in my chosen discipline – Economics (Hons.) was not very encouraging. So I refrained.

In retrospect, I consider my decision not to pursue cricket in the college, one of the luckiest. This conclusion is based on sheer statistics. I remember a number of cricketers who represented Delhi in school, but were lost at the university level. At the university this death percentage was even more alarming. In fact from school to university, university to Ranji Trophy, and Ranji to Test cricket, imply huge jump in the levels. Making it to the next level requires both high calibre and\or connections. If these loss proportions are widely publicised, the budding cricketers would probably attend more classes as the probability of doing well in studies is significantly higher than making it to next level in cricket in India.

Where Mythology and Science Meet

I had never watched a classical dance performance till I saw Sonal ManSingh perform in the first year of my college, and was spellbound. I still remember the delightful speech she made.

Before performing ‘Dashavatar’ she told us how it reinforced the Darwinian theory of evolution evoking laughter from ignorant college students. She then explained how different stages of evolution could be correlated to : ‘Matsya’ the first avatara which could live only in water- true for earliest life form, followed by ‘Katchhap’ or turtle which could live both on land and in water. Subsequent avatars of - ‘Varaha’, ‘Narsimha’, and ‘Vaman’ trace the evolution from animal to human form, till “Rama’ emerges embodying the full human form. The whole auditorium applauded at this novel interpretation of Dashavatar.

In the years to follow, I saw performances of nearly all great classical dance performers. Classical dances brought alive all those mythological tales we were familiar through ‘Chandamama’, an addiction in childhood days. How one lost touch with classical dance performances is difficult to say. It definitely was not a conscious decision.

Folk versus Modern

I started watching folk performances much later. In fact I was already on my first regular job and was attending the office near ITO. At the Pyarelal Auditorium just next door, Uttara Asha Kurlawala was to perform. We went to see the performance after purchasing tickets which were expensive by rates prevailing in those years. I recall only one particular performance that evening which was engaging. Rest was just okay. Next day a troupe from Maharashtra was to perform folk dance, for which no tickets were needed. When we visited the auditorium, it was a pleasant surprise to find that performing artists were the same who were featuring in a programme called ‘Maharashtra Ki Lokdhara’ on Doordarshan. As we watched the performance of these artists, the blandness of the performance we had seen a day before became apparent The sad part of it was that while the modern dance troupe had performed to a full house, the auditorium was only half filled for a much superior performance requiring no tickets.

In subsequent years something quite extra-ordinary happened. Suddenly Government of India woke up to the fact that that our folk dances and music needed promotion. Regional cultural centres were set up all over India, and folk artists from all parts of India could perform at metros. In Delhi, Sangeet Natak Academy started their own festivals of folk performances called ‘Lok Utsav’. I saw ‘Lok Utsav’ a four to five days festival organised in the lawns of ‘Rabindra Bhavan’, every year till early Nineties. It was suddenly stopped presumably because of paucity of funds.

Till the time it was organised Lok Utsav was one of the most likeable cultural events organised in Delhi. Now the only way to keep contact with folk performances is through folk dances programme organised at the time of Republic Day. The Talkatora stadium however, lacks the atmosphere of Rabindra Bhavan and the cultural calendar of Delhi has become poorer sans ‘Lok Utsav’.

Play Time

The first play that I ever watched was a Vijay Tendulkar play called ‘Panchhi Aise Ate Hain’. I followed it with years of regular visits to Mandi House. It was apparent that one got much better entertainment, at much lesser cost and with much better crowd. Every year we used to follow the performance of NSD Repertory and the students of NSD with keen interest. We watched many plays which left us emotionally drained. I remember ‘Ek Ruka Hua Faisala’ which brought together twelve of the best artists of Delhi theatre. Some of the memorable plays we saw were - Jasma Odan, Ashadh Ka Ek Din, Ascent of Fujiyama, Andha Yug, and some of the outstanding performances by Uttara Baokar in role of Gandhari in ‘Andha Yug’, Naseeruddin Shah as Don Juan in ‘Don Juan in Hell’ based on Man and Superman of George Bernard Shaw, Manohar Singh as Mohammed bin Tughlak.

Eighties provided some excellent performances in Delhi theatre. However, the plays get affected substantially by the calibre of performing artists. I recall ‘Andha Yug’ performed by artists from Bharat Bhavan under direction of Karanth, was ordinary in comparison to the one performed by NSD. The coming of cable TV and private channels saw a mass exodus of top artists from Delhi to Bombay, affecting the quality of plays in Delhi.


The fall and fall of Indian Cinema

It was funny to hear Naseeruddin Shah vent his diatribes against parallel cinema of Eighties. In one of his interviews he said that while critics disliked his role in a Bombay masala movie where he had to wear a bikini, every one applauded his role where he drove a herd of pigs across the river wearing loin clothe. It was an astounding statement. I had found ‘Paar’ the movie he was referring to very moving, in fact one of the best movies made in the decade of Eighties.

The interest I developed in Indian cinema was based on chance. It was impossible to get tickets for good western movies in the International Film Festival organised at Delhi, so we started concentrating on the Indian panorama. By the time we started following Indian movies, the big names of Bengali cinema, were past their most creative years. People such as Mrinal Sen, Buddhadeva Dasgupta and Gautam Ghosh had started making movies in Hindi. Shyam Benegal, Govind Nihahalani, Amol Palekar etc. had established their names in Hindi parallel cinema. Other than watching good Hindi movies, the Indian Panorama opened the world of good regional movies to us. I found many of the Malayalam, Kannada and Assamese movies a great experience.

Nineties saw a big drop in the quality of movies made in India. We had kept touch with the better Indian movies via the National Film Festival held every year in Delhi. Suddenly a number of popular movies started being shown in the Film festival in the garb of wholesome entertainment, national integration etc. Most of the directors who had appeared in Eighties could not come out with equally powerful movies in Nineties. So my interest in National Film Festival and Indian movies dwindled.

I have not seen a National Film Festival for quite a few years now. I do not know if good movies are being made which we are not aware of, or if there are no worthwhile movies to see. Office work and cable TV have certainly pushed out what added a touch of quality to my life of Eighties.

East is East

West in the eye of an Indian

“What was the first thing that struck you as you landed in India?” I was asked after my first visit abroad.

“ Pollution ”, I blurted after a moment’s reflection.

That was 1995, and Delhi my home, the comparator. My answer today would not be same. The pollution level in Delhi has reduced drastically between now and then.

“What is the difference between India and the West?”
I have mulled over the issue at length, and tested my hypothesis on subsequent visits abroad.

The disparity in physical infrastructure, level of cleanliness, or a general absence of poverty is not striking, at least in the European cities I visited. May be because we expect advanced nations to be good in these areas. What I found most striking was the general civility in social and public life in these nations.

Almost every one engaged in public dealing – be he the bus conductor or the ticket inspector in train, or a person one may have rung up to make enquiry, are at the best of their behavior when dealing with public. Contrast this with the roughness with which the providers of public utility treat people in India. One imagines it may take centuries to bring about civility in public life in India. Even if we catch up with the west in material wealth, our life will continue to be poorer until we learn to improve our index in politeness.

A measure of democracy

An interesting contrast between India and Britain is the way politicians conduct themselves in media.

Unlike India, journalists tend to be very aggressive when interviewing politicians on TV. The politicians on the other hand never dare to raise their voice, or show annoyance at the grilling they are subjected to. I could easily correlate the response to such a session, if the person in question was an Indian MP or minister.

The only explanation is that a politician is not expected to be rough and cantankerous in public life. Like anywhere else in world, politician in UK must be having a lot of clout but it never gets displayed in public. The perception of what is an acceptable public behavior reigns supreme.


Kidding around

I was taking a round of the National Art Gallery at Trafalgar Square in London, when I saw a string of kids aged around 6 to 8 years, accompanied by their art teacher, entering the museum. After about an hour or so we converged in one of the halls. The art teacher had the kids seated at front of one of the paintings. I found that it was a Picasso.

“What do you see in this painting?” the teacher asked the kids.

Gradually the kids started responding, pointing out various objects in the painting – a table, fruit bowl, and some fruits.

“What is the difference, is it a normal table that you are viewing?” teacher coaxed.

Kids again responded pointing out various differences in appearance and reality.

For next fifteen minutes or so, I went through a fascinating experience. One of the greatest modern time painters, seen through the eyes of six-year-old kids.

Some thing that strikes you is how child friendly Western Societies are.

I found that the government school, in East London – supposed to be the part where less well off reside, was better than the public schools with big names in India.

The difference again had little to do with physical facilities. It was more a result of caring attitude and dedication to the job. These manifest in small innovations, making school a wonderful place for the kids.

“How do you find the school ?”

The head teacher of the primary school asked my seven year old son, after a week in school.

“It is a hundred times better than DPS” was my son’s response.

After viewing their working for a few months I concurred.



In nut shell

“We have been made such fools !” my fiend Madhusudan and I concluded, watching the water flow by in Thames. There is so much to be learnt from the outside world. We have been so smug.

As a society we have insulated ourselves from learning from others. We are made to think that we are the best, and there is nothing superior in the developed countries other than economic wealth. One could be so wrong.

Ultimately, only that society develops which is open to learning and ideas, irrespective of their place of origin. This in nutshell explains the difference between India and the West.