I settled in Delhi soon enough despite the usual rumoured nagging about the city and learnt to navigate the strange ways of the nation’s capital. The first shock I received was when I asked a passerby for directions and was rudely snubbed, taunting: “Do I look like a bloody guide to you?” In Kolkata, there would be half a dozen people volunteering information — of course, many would be wrong, even as they tried to be helpful. And here I was, in such a rude place! I learnt, soon enough from my burly Jat driver, a very crude but essential cultural staple of Delhi.
The Minister’s office in Udyog Bhavan was a mad collection of officials from different departments and agencies — who were badgered, begged, borrowed or stolen.
Each one had his or her own reason for jumping on to the bandwagon — some knew the minister when he was not even an MP, someone else had been recommended by his uncle in Chittaranjan Park, for reasons that I never fathomed, but most joined as they desired a better government flat or a school admission for their kids, both out of turn under the ‘minister’s quota’.
The regular and hierarchical bureaucracy of the ministry looked upon the MoS with suspicion (he was a politician) and he was not their real boss — the cabinet minister was the one who really mattered. Delhidelhi
They viewed the PS with even greater suspicion — “Is he really powerful or just some picked-up flunky?”. Another question was “Is he still one of us or has he turned into a slimy political type?” One of the most powerful Joint Secretaries (JSs), Mr Jiten Renjen, who was in charge of the establishment, asked me quite bluntly, how on earth I had landed the most coveted Udyog Bhavan post. Was it ‘caste’ (outside Bengal, it matters a lot) or was its ‘cadre’ (some State Cadres like those in Uttar Pradesh invariably pushed their acolytes to the best posts) or was it all because of my ‘politics’? Delhi
I remember replying that I was an unknown Bong from a peripheral state and an inconsequential or unhelpful cadre at best. God had been kind to me. He guffawed and became very friendly from that day onward, calling me over occasionally for drinks —a kindness that I will never forget.
Mr Das Munsi was more than tactful and, as a politician, he could disguise his disgust with pleasantries — a quality that I could not pick up during my recent abortive foray into politics.
He realised he was a novice as a minister and was, therefore, generally helpful to all, as he needed their assistance. The initial disdain of the bureaucracy for the new MoS died down. His English was not the best and soon enough, I had senior officers dropping in, after coming out of his room, asking me to make sense of what they had just been told by the MoS.
The minister was, however, a completely political creature, who made it clear to me that he could spend just an hour or so for official work— since he was busy for the remaining 10 to 15 or so hours in talking, talking to party people, to visitors from his constituency or to the press. The latter, incidentally, was his forte and he would be chatting, gossiping, speculating and giving leaks till late in the evening.
I deliberately avoided these ‘meetings’, as I had to plough through fat files with perfectly complicated government language notations of the Central bureaucracy, without any guidance. Besides, I had to be really careful so that some crafty or dodgy ministry officer could not pull a fast one on us.
Also Read: My Early Years in Delhi – Part 1
It was the height of the notorious Permit-Control Raj in India and Commerce and the other ‘economic ministries’ of Udyog Bhavan were known to be ‘user-friendly’ to business interests — many of which were certainly not above board. In fact, it was my minister who gave me a long talk on this subject and told me to watch out and study the file notes and proposals very carefully. The senior minister was reputed to be ‘deep into deals’ and very conscious that he was the boss — as happens invariably between a Cabinet Minister and his Minister of State (MoS). My young minister was determined not to acquire such an unwholesome reputation, as he had a long way to go.
We heard horror stories of how a past Commerce minister’s Additional PS had been quite an operator and a fixer, a distinction that he has carried on all his life, switching parties and loyalties, even till now.
The well-meaning PS of that Minister was from my cadre and a clean soul, so he just looked the other way. I soon learnt to be more than doubly careful about proposals and files from some specific JSs (Joint Secretaries) who were into mischief. Most were, however, above board but some were just malleable enough to permit someone who was politically or economically powerful (and therefore, useful) to add to his pile, but would also at the same time guard their own interest.
It was difficult to fix anything by a single officer, as all decisions were taken through committees and (theoretically) everyone present had agreed to it. One had to pore over kilograms of paper just to locate past decisions and then point out contradictions and seek explanations — before telling the minister to go ahead and sign it.
I learnt to get along with the infamous ‘permit control raj’, when everything was tightly controlled by government and much of it was quite rotten. Controls were all justified by well-intentioned and high-sounding reasons and the rules and orders were so full of checks and terribly suspicious of business and businessmen.
One discovered how whole breeds of specialists thrived, within the bureaucracy and outside (the go-betweens), who could ensure that those who paid well could get anything, despite the controls. In fact, tighter the regulation, the higher was the ‘fee’ for finding a plausible way of negotiating through the labyrinth.
I remember how the main public entrances to Udyog Bhavan were jammed before Diwali by representatives from different companies carrying (quite openly) gifts like silk saris, suit lengths of fine cloth and other gifts for many ranks of officers. Mr Das Munsi made a strict rule, and I directed every official in the minister’s office does not accept any expensive gift, other than a simple box of sweets or dry fruits. This did not make me popular among the staff who complained that these gifts were a pittance and that the ‘real ones’ were handed over at the residences of other officers and staff. delhi delhi delhi delhi
The fact that the Congress had secured a record number of Lok Sabha seats in the 1984 elections meant that too many factions appeared and fought battles, covert or overt, against each other.
Mr Pranab Mukherjee had been sidelined by the new regime and Mr. ABA Ghani Khan Chaudhary was very close to the PM, while Mr Ashok Kumar Sen was considered indispensable as Law Minister and an old strategist. delhi
Mr Ajit Panja was definitely flamboyant but no match for junior ministers like Mr Das Munsi or Mr Santosh Mohan Deb, a Bengali minister from the north-east. And then, there was a Deputy Minister, the lowest in the pecking order, Mr P Chidambaram who was destined from ‘day one’ to go miles and miles. delhi
A spunky young lady MP who kept dropping in to see the Minister and was usually made to wait in my room for long periods was Ms. Mamata Banerjee. She was liked by the PM and therefore, disliked by all other senior and junior ministers. She was more than courteous and would chat for hours, asking questions on how the bureaucracy of Delhi functioned.
I remember how both Mr Das Munsi and she used to travel together in the PM’s plane to Kolkata and other places, and how I was asked to sit next to her one occasion when I was told to be part of the entourage. We talked and talked for the entire flight. She was quite a firebrand, but this is not the place to elucidate her story.
Image Courtesy: Times of India, Uday India, Zee News, Aaj Tak
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Jawhar Sircar is a former Member of Parliament. He retired from the Indian Administrative Service as India’s Culture Secy and was later Chief Executive Officer of the public broadcaster, Prasar Bharati. He is well-known for his articles on history, culture and politics and his columns appear in several leading Indian and foreign newspapers and magazines in English and Bengali. Sircar has also been the Chairman of the Centre for Studies in Social Sciences, Kolkata.
