Some Truths, A Few Stories

 

 

(Some Truths, A Few Stories)

I have witnessed and suffered a number of cyclones; like Titli, Phailin, Huhhud, Fani or Amphan. The first cyclone I experienced when I was in Class VIII, in 1971. I was thirteen; staying in my maternal uncle’s house, and studying in their village school. On 29^th October, I was sleeping after my night meal. My uncle woke me up. Severe storm lashed, the old house of mud and thatch was shaking. He took me to a small thatched two roomed house he had built the same year; one room was for the kitchen and the other used for the guests, and my study. Then all the villagers of my uncle’s village had mud walls and thatched house except Jagabandhu. Jagabandhu was relatively rich in the village; he had a house of bricks and cement with tin roof. The strong wind had flown away his tin roof; the first man who suffered loss in the cyclone. He along with his family had already taken shelter in my study room. In the morning, I saw many houses had been damaged, cows dead and trees uprooted including the lonely banyan tree in the school playground. The long hall, partitioned to accommodate four classes, of our school had also fallen.

The official death toll of persons stood at 7397, but unofficial sources gave the figure much higher. It was a Friday.

(Review of the book in the Sambad)

Twenty-eight years later, in 1999, I was in Cuttack. As a mere coincidence, my daughter was in Class VIII. It was also 29 October and a Friday. This time the government had warned about the imminent cyclone, but people did not heed to the warning. In the morning, the rain had started. I was preparing to go to the office. The rain increased. I waited. The rain took the form of heavy storm. I decided not to go to the office. I changed my office dress to casuals, and sat on the balcony.

I was residing in a concrete building, and had no fear of the cyclone. On the backyard, there were two mango trees, one Jamun (black berry) tree and one simuli (silk cotton) tree. In the night, birds including a few parrots rested in the trees. Their chirping woke me up every day in the early morning. On that day of heavy rains and strong cyclone I watched the trees falling down one by one. It pained me to realize birds would never come to rest, for there would be no trees, and birds’ chirping would no longer wake me up in the early morning.

The official death toll was 9887, besides thousands of cattle died. People say the actual death toll was more than forty thousand. This was called super cyclone.

I had written one piece and captioned ‘aktobarar dui asubha sukrabaar’ (Two Black Fridays of October), which was published in ‘Sambad’.

(Review in the Prameya)

The cyclone Fani hit Odisha on 3^rd May, 2019. It was also a Friday. I had already retired from government service. The people had become conscious after super cyclone of 1999 and heeding to government's warning. In the meantime, they had also witnessed Titli, Phailin, Huhhud. The Government had evacuated people from near the sea coast and low area, and settled them in the temporary shelter houses. The death toll was 64. But power supply had been cut off; electric poles and wiring had been damaged, many trees uprooted in Puri and Bhubaneswar. The government took more than ten days to restore power supply in Bhubaneswar.

I had written my experience of the cyclone, ‘Fani: Sei dasa dina’ (Fani: Those Ten Days) in the magazine, ‘Teera Tarang’.

*****

The full name of Rupa was Ester Rupa Sahu Jyrowa. I asked, “Rupa Sahu seems to be an Odia name, Ester is Christian and Jyrowa seems to have some connection with a tribe. How can you have such a name?”

Rupa said, “My grandfather was an Odia, my grandmother was Assamese. My mother is from Meghalaya. My name contains all of them. We are Christian.”

I asked, “Your husband?”

She said, “He is a Hindu."

Rupa is talkative.  We were returning from Kamakshya temple on the zigzag road of the hills. From the hills, the city of Guwahati looked like a postcard painting. I asked, “Yours was a love marriage?”

She said, “Yes."

I asked, “Didn’t your husband’s parents object?”

Rupa said, “When we knew each other and our friendship grew, my would-be husband told, if his parents would approve, we would proceed further, and marry. One day he invited me for tea to his house. On the first meeting itself, his father agreed, and then we married.”

“What does your father-in-law do?” I asked.

“He is a member of the RSS, now a leader of the BJP.” She replied

 

Normally the members of RSS were staunch believers of Hinduism, believed to be conservative and Hindu fundamentalists. But her father-in-law was broad minded, perhaps, because of the liberal cultural tradition of Assam. Rupa said, “Sir, you are a Hindu, I am Christian and our driver, Rehman is a Muslim. This is real India.”

I added, “You are truly a representative of our pluralistic Indian tradition.”

[From the story, ‘Brahmaputra Bakshare Gangara Pratidhwani’ (Echoes of the Ganga on the Heart of Brhmaputra)]

The book ‘Kichhi Sata Kichhi Gapa’ (Some Truths, A few Stories), published by Shalandi Books contains thirty-six stories. 

*****

Memories are Not to Throw Away

 

                                                      (Memories are Not to Throw Away)

Harihara and his friend were returning by foot to Puri after visiting Chandrabhaga. They came across two/three British sahibs on the way. They stopped them and one of them asked, “Do you swim?” Harihara replied, “Yes, we do, but can’t swim sea or an ocean.” Those were the times of the second world war; the war continued between UK and Germany. Those British soldiers were, perhaps, coast guards, and they mistook Harihar and his friend as German terrorists. Harihar’s friend said, “We are students of Cuttack C.T. School; we had come for a visit to Chandrabhaga.”

India attained independence on the 15^th August, 1947, but the kings of garjat (princely states) felt freedom from the British rule, and behaved like independent countries. They hoisted their own states’ flags, not the tricolour national flag of India. Rajendra Narayan Singhdeo unfurled two flags; one Indian tricolour and the other, the state flag of the Patna kingdom. He announced, “We, the garjat kings of India are now free; we have not yet integrated with India. Lat’s us see what happens next.” 

Harihara was then a teacher in Patnagarh’s Ramai School.

Historiographers are of the view that incidents described in an autobiography can be taken as historical facts if those are buttressed by other historical evidence. Public persons, persons established in the society, such as politicians, ministers, governors or president would not write anything of their lives that the society or the people in general will not approve of. They would not reveal their weakness and wrong deeds. They also tend to write good deeds, sometimes, they write false, to glorify themselves and also try to rationalize anything wrong they had done, and been criticized.

Harihara Misra is a common man, an honest, sincere and an affectionate teacher. In his autobiography, ‘Smruti Ta Nuhen Kebe Phingibaar’ (memories are not to throw away), he has written the life of the common man, his life and time. He has not written anything to show off himself big or a man of high moral standard. He has portrayed the events and personalities he has come across in his life’s journey honestly from the prospective of a common man.

Born in 1922, he was twenty-five when India attained independence. Orphaned in childhood, he was brought up by his maternal grandparents. A man from the garjat area, he studied in Cutack C.T. School with scholarship from the king of the Patna state. He did his intermediate and graduation and D.Ed. as a private candidate. He struggled to set foot and establish him in the society, but has never described his pain, never expressed distress in his memoirs. He was at 89 when he started writing his memoirs, but has written only forty-five years of his life until 1969. He did not want to burden the readers, as he says, making the book voluminous by writing his success story, his happy life.

                                                                  (As I have Experienced)

‘Dihakar Katha’ (As I have experienced), is the memoirs of Raseswari Misra, wife of Harihara. She has studied up to standard four only. She has been brought up in a cultural and educational milieu. They have always guests, for Harihara is a sociable person, and he loves to treat his guests. Besides, they have eight children. On some says, Raseswari has to cook for thirty people. Despite all her busy life, she has never neglected her pursuits of learning. She starts writing poetry at 88, recited poems in literary gatherings; the AIR has also broadcast her poems.

A reader of the books will find the life of the common man in the garjat area, the customs, traditions, culture and beliefs of the garjat people before independence. Written in a simple and lucid style, the books are readable, and are useful for the scholars engaged in research of garjat states.

*****

 

Man in Body, Woman in Heart: A Transgender’s Travails

 

Meera and Sadhna looked like two sisters. Meera was in a saree, and Sadhna wore salwar and kameez. I had met Sadhna, once. Now when I saw both of them together, I felt like seeing them somewhere earlier. When I told, Meera said, “Many mistake us as two sisters. After ‘Subham’s Story’ was telecast in OTV, most of the persons who meet us, say, we are a married couple.”

I remembered. After Delhi High Court legalized same sex relation in 2009, ‘Subham’s Story’ was telecast. ‘Subham’s Story’ was a documentary film on love and relationship between two males. Meera and Sadhna acted in that documentary.

In a historic judgement on 2 July, 2009, the Delhi High Court legalized same sex relationship and pronounced section 377 of Indian Penal Court as violative of Articles 14, 15 and 21 on the Constitution.

The judgement had encouraged and boosted the morale of the LGBTQ fraternity.

“No actor was interested to act in Sobham’s Story, we had to act,” Meera said.

Sadhna added, her family members were infuriated after ‘Subham’s Story’ was telecast. The newspapers also published their photographs. It was the time of Rathyatra. They had gone to Puri. The manager of the hotel was amazed at seeing both and told, they had, perhaps, gone to Puri for honeymoon after their marriage. The manager sincerely believed it.

Aiswariya had taken me to Meera and Sadhna. Aiswariya addressed Sadhna as Sadhna Ma.

Aiswariya worked in our organization. I knew her from the day she joined, since I trained the newly recruits. Then, she was ‘he’; had not done Sex Reorganization Surgery (SRS), and changed by affidavit his name from Ratikant to Aiswariya.

(Aiswariya with the book, receiving from Debashish, Proprietor, Aditya Bharat Publications)

One day, I happened to meet Ratikant in a marriage reception. He was in a woman’s attire; in jeans with kurta, and covered his chest with a stole. He wore small, star shaped ear ring, and lipstick on her lips. My colleague and her batchmate, Deepa Nayak said, “He is a transgender.”

I did not know much about transgenders or kinnars. I did not have favourable impression on them. By kinnars, I meant, the hijras begging on the train compartments. Males in female attire would make lewd jokes and behave lecherously with the male passengers. I gave them a few rupees out of fear, just to drive them away from me, if they approached me in the train. But many men travelling in the train also enjoyed their lewd and lustful talks and acts. They enjoyed cracking jokes with them.

Next day, I discussed about this with my friend and colleague, Sambit. Sambit said, “They are men in bodies, but women in hearts.” To know more about them, he gave me a book, ‘Lady Boys’ of Susan Aldous. He had been to Bangkok, and purchased this book from Bangkok airport.

Kinnar is a man in body, but woman in heart and mind, in other words, woman trapped in man’s body. A boy becomes aware about his femininity when he is eight- or nine-year-old. He behaves like a girl. He loves to wear girl’s dress. Ratikant (or Aiswariya) says, when he was in his village, the boys brought wood from the jungle on their shoulders, but he carried on his head like the girls in their locality did. He preferred girls to boys to play with. When his sister was not home, he wore her dress and looked himself at the mirror.

The womanly qualities of a transgender get prominent as he grows up. He does not understand his sexuality when he compares him with other boys and gets confused. Mayadhar (Meera’s name before he did SRS) says, he thought at this phase of his life, it was a disease. But he could not confide in anyone. Had he consulted a doctor or a psychologist, they might have cleared his doubts. But Mayadhar’s father was not educated. Mayadhar’s health was alright, having no symptoms of any illness, why should they go to a doctor? Mayadhar had also not confided in his father any kind of inconsistency in his personality since he did not understand himself, and was confused.

Mayadhar’s father had a small hotel in Bhubaneswar. He left his village and stayed with his father. He was going to learn dancing from a dance teacher. He met there a boy like him, having similar traits. He could not ask him nor he had the courage to ask Mayadhar. He had always misgivings in his mind as to when boys were attracted towards girls how he was attracted towards boys?

(Book Release, Sadhna standing at extreme left.)

People call ‘maichia’(effeminate) or ‘chhaka’ when a boy behaves like a girl. They easily fall victims to sex exploitation. Ratikant (or Aiswariya) says, in his childhood older boys forcibly took him to secluded places and used to ravish and rape him. Meera says, eighty percent of kinnars must have been raped by their teachers in their school days. The society’s reactions are not strong for rape of a ‘maichia’ as it reacts to the rape of a girl. People say, why a boy should behave like a girl? They take them to be boys, and do not give much importance of any sexual assault on them.

The society, divided between man and woman, does not recognize a kinnar as a different/special gender. His parents also do not accept if their son behaves like a daughter. All the kinnars born in middle or poor class have, more or less, the experience of neglect and torture by their parents and siblings. Father of the kinnar feels birth of a son having feminine qualities is a slur on his manliness. Ratikant’s (Aiswariya) father castigated him saying a goat was born in the family of a tiger. His brother used to beat him for no reason, sometimes, practicing boxing with him using his body as punching bag. His disillusioned father did not object.

Under the circumstance, being subject to neglect and torture by the family and society since the very childhood, they develop constricted personality. Those who are born in lower middle class or poor families cannot even go to school or college. Since their personality does not develop, they cannot get proper education, they adopt three professions: Badhai (Blessing), Begging and Prostitution.

The people of Ajodhya followed Ramachandra when he went to the forest for fourteen-year- exile. He requested the citizens of Ajodhya at the border to return to their homes, and he went to the forest with his brother Laxman and wife Sita. He returned after completing the fourteen- year-exile, and found some persons were sitting at the border. He asked, “Why are you sitting here?” They replied, “We had come along with others when you went to the jungle for the exile, fourteen years ago. Here, you urged the people to return and said, ‘O! My beloved ladies and gentlemen of Ajodhya, please return your homes from here, and allow us to follow our principles and discharge our duty.’ But we are neither ladies nor gentlemen, neither man nor woman. We are kinnars. Such direction was not applicable to us. We did not have your direction, neither to follow, nor to return. So, we are here.”

Their devotion overwhelmed Ramachandra. Pleased, he granted them a boon: they would have the power of badhai for the newlyweds or newly born babies; they could bless or curse. Their curse or blessings would have effect on the receivers.

In the north and western India, people believe kinnars’ blessing or curse has results. But in Odisha, people don’t have such faith except the non-Odias and Marwaries living in the state. In Odisha, they don’t earn much from badhai; in other states also, they cannot live on badhai alone. They have to resort to begging and prostitution in order to survive.

Kinnars worship Bahuchra Mata.

The husband did not go to the girl in the night after her marriage. Instead, he went to the jungle riding a horse. All blamed the girl. They accused; the girl did not have traits of a woman to attract the man. There might also be a reason that the man had a concubine, and he went to her in the night.

One day, to know the truth, the girl followed the man. She did not have a horse. A jungle cock, realizing the helplessness of the girl, volunteered to help her. The girl followed her husband riding the cock. She discovered her husband, in woman’s attire, behaving like a woman in a secluded place inside the jungle.

The sight enraged her. She said, “If you are like this, why did you marry me?” The girl turned into the goddess, Bahuchara when she was angry. The man trembled with fear. He told his family members forced him to marry. They wanted children out of the marriage that would further their family lineage.

Goddess Bahuchara was sorry for the pitiable condition of her husband and said, “Men like you will have to castrate your male genitals, wear woman’s dress and worship me.”

The temple of Bahuchara Mata is situated in Gujrat.

Castration of male genitals and initiation into Kinnars’ community is called Nirvan or salvation. In Budhism, freedom from bondage, sorrow and the reasons of the sorrow is called Nirvan. In similar vein, freedom from the males’ body is called Nirvan in Kinnars’ community. They get a new identity and respect after Nirvan. The kinnars have a kind of hatred towards their male bodies, and they desire to get rid of it by castrating the male genitals.

(Report in the newspaper on book release)

The kinnars have desire to marry Iravan. They want, at least, to visit the temple of Iravan situated in Koovagam village, Kalkakurichi district of Tamilnadu, once in their life time. It’s a sort of pilgrimage for them.

On the eve of the great war of Mahabharat, the Pandavs heard the voice of Goddess of War that they had to propitiate the Goddess by human sacrifice. There were only three perfect males from the Pandavs fit for sacrifice for the Goddess. They were Srikrishna, Arjun and Iravan. Iravan was the son of Arjun from the princess of Nagas. Neither Srikrishna nor Arjun could be sacrificed as it was impossible to win the war without them. Iravan had to be sacrificed. Iravan agreed for the sacrifice on one condition: he would marry, at least, for a day. “For, what is the meaning and value of life, if no woman weeps for the death of a husband?”

But no woman agreed to marry Iravan for a day to become window, the next day. At last, Srikrisna agreed, turned into Mohini, a beautiful woman, and married Iravan. The next day after Iravan was sacrificed before the Goddess, Mohini became widow, and wept for the death of Iravan. She wept so much for the death of Iravan that no woman had ever wept for death of her husband.

Every year, on the full moon night of Chaitra, a festival is organized in the Koovagam village of Tamilnadu. Thousands of kinnars assemble there, marry Iravan and suffer from widowhood.

The kinnars, from their very childhood, have been subject to parental neglect, injustice and oppression, and also fall prey to sexual exploitation. Their personality does not develop, and they suffer from inferiority complex. The Supreme Court, in a historic judgement on 15 April, 2014, has recognized them as third gender and instructed the governments to provide reservations for them in government services, and take welfare measures to bring them to the mainstream of the society. The Supreme Court also, in its judgement on 6 September 2018 has decriminalized section 377 of IPC, and legalized sex between adults of same sex with consent.

We were discussing SRS (Sex Reassignment Surgery) or castration of male genitals. Advanced method in hospitals is expensive, beyond the means of kinnars who live on prostitution or begging. The traditional method of castration is risky and painful. In the traditional method, even anesthesia is not used for surgery. The person is given opium or alcohol. He is told to bite his long hair and chant the name of goddess Bahuchara Mata. Two or three kinnars hold him tight, and his male genitals are cut off with a sharp weapon. There is also a belief excess flow of blood drains off masculinity of the trans-man, and transforms him to her.

I said, “Is SRS or castration necessary? This is painful, besides being risky. An awareness should be created against this tradition.”

“Giving birth to a child is also painful,” Sadhna said and added, “you people cannot understand the pain of a woman trapped in a male’s body. Only a kinnar realizes, no one else.”

The governments, both Central and state governments, after the Supreme Court decision, are taking steps to uplift the conditions of the transgenders. Laws are made. But will the society accept them? It will take time for social acceptance. Awareness should be created among the people.

                                                                      *****

 

An incisive inside story of administration

 

(Book Release: From left Sadhana Misra, Swaraj Misra, Paresh Patnaik, Baishnab Charan Mohanty and the author)

This is a memoir of an officer about his professional experiences in a government organization which the Supreme Court has once termed one of the most three corrupt departments in India. The book is a revelation of the difficult situations that an honest officer typically has to face. Due to his bold and blunt behavior, he has to face five transfers in a span of a decade, and finally the authorities bring him to the head office. He has to stay his twenty remaining years of service here, where no officer wants to work; the job he is assigned is dry and drab to others.

                                              (The news of book release reported in the newspaper)

The author gets his first posting after his training in a check gate where he has to check the vehicles to prevent tax evasion. Very soon he realizes dealing with real life situations are totally different from the induction training imparted in the institute. He wonders how his education, a masters in history, his studies of Marx and Hegel, Russian and French Revolutions or Indian history, help in dealing with truckers, anti socials and tax evaders. The training imparted in no way helps one in the field when a goon brandishes his knife and threatens him to take his life. At one place, a few people barge into his room forcing him to do unethical things, the MLA pressurizes on behalf of a BDO with whom he is hands in glove, to do something beyond the rules and procedure. He has to handle these situations.

Not only from the field, but his seniors and colleagues in the office are also no help. The concern of the people he has to work with is primarily to please the boss and earn by fair or unfair means. Their rent seeking attitude is in conflict with the author’s nature and they do not miss an opportunity to put him in a soup. His seniors, not being satisfied, harass him, for he does not collect booty and share with them. He has to deal with these elements in administration.

Being part of the policy making, he has been an integral part in the formulation of policies in the state in both the tax systems, namely; VAT and GST. He is associated with reforms in indirect tax system in the state and country, involved in drafting and implementation of VAT in 2005, and subsequently, GST in 2017. He has firsthand knowledge of making the law. Though the law is passed by the legislature after approval of the GST Council, that is, the ministers of the states and Centre, the law is, in reality, drafted by the officers. The tax officers’ main objective is to maximize taxes and protect their fraternity, not to see the interest of the taxpayers, and often ignore the business interest and taxpayers’ comfort. The result, the GST Act and Rules have been amended forty times within first two years of its implementation. The Council is yet to make a simple return form. The memoir is, in fact, an inside story told by an insider.

The author is an acclaimed writer; he writes fiction and non-fiction, both in Odia and English. He has used his skill of being a fictionist in writing his memoirs that will be read like a novel and appreciated by all sections of the society. Lucid language and reference to day-to-day life are the USPs of this book. The book divulges some aspects of administration, particularly tax systems, usually not known to the general public. The book is an interesting read.

(By Deepa Nayak, in The Pioneer)

                                                        (Review of the book in The Pioneer)

The memoir in Odia, Anichhuk Prasasak (A Reluctant Bureaucrat) was published in October, 2021. The book has registered encouraging sales and received rave views. Parambrahma Tripathy, poet and writer has posted the following in his Facebook timeline during Akshara Book Fair, Bhubaneswar:

 

[There is a demand for a book in the Akshara Book Fair. The book is Anichhuk Prasasak (A Reluctant Bureaucrat) of Sahadev Sahoo. Readers are buying this book. Perhaps, this is the Odia best seller during the last five years.]

On request from non Odia speaking people and to reach wider audience, I wrote the book in English, published by Shalandi Books.

                                                                *****

A Visit to Jeypore

 

I had visited Jeypore thrice, but all those on official business. I was put up in government guest houses. I met the office people, did the office work and returned by evening to reach Bhubaneswar by the next day, to attend the office in the morning. I did not have the opportunity to interact with the local people or to see the town outside the office, in other words, get the feel of the town. This time when Surya (Poet Surya Misra) proposed to attend Nirvan Sahitya Parisad as chief guest in their twenty-ninth annual meet on 19^th December, I readily agreed.

My son warned me of the biting cold of Koraput and Jepore, and suggested me to go with sufficient winter garments. I had to take my coat which was not in use since I retired from government service four years ago. (One does not need to wear coat in Bhubaneswar climate and I have not undertaken journey outside in winter because of Covid during these four years.) But I found cold in Jeypore not harsh, rather pleasant and enjoyable.

I travelled with Surya by Hirakhand express. Chandrakant Biswal, a writer and a resident of Jeypore came to receive us at Koraput railway station. An affable person, Chandrakant who looks younger than his age greeted us with warmth and affection and put us up in a lodge. The meeting began slightly late as it took time for the members to reach from faraway places like Damanjodi, Raygada and other places of undivided Koraut district. Besides the speakers Chandra Sekhar Hota, Surya Misra, the other dignitaries on the dais were Dr Surendra Das, Dr Pradeep Misra and social worker Prakash Nayak.

Nirvan Sahitya Parisad felicitated writers Umakant Das, Rabi Panda, Swati Chatarjee, Bijay Kumar Jena, Srikant Misra and poets Sushant Kumar Nayak, Suranjan Patra and Rabi Satpathy. The way the poets and writers were felicitated with blowing of conch cell and ululating by  women, the poets and writers felt special and really honoured. The post lunch session had poetry recitation. A day of literary festival and intellectual merry making!

                                                ( Writer Rabi Panda is being felicitated)

Surya, a great conversationalist and a mine of information, enthralled me with anecdotes and behind stories of writers and litterateurs’ acts and deeds. The next day we woke up late, went to have tea at a road side tea stall and chitchatted with Chandrakant and his friends and had our breakfast without taking bath and morning ablutions. A young officer of the organisation I had worked for thirty years had seen me while going to the office when I was taking breakfast, standing and gossiping with friends in a road side eating joint. Later, when I visited their office, she said, “Sir, I have seen you eating there in your night pyjama and T-shirt, but could not believe, and thought, perhaps I was wrong in my presumption.”

We returned by the evening train, Hirakhand Express with the dinner packets of paratha and fried cauliflower, prepared by Chandrakant’s wife.

                                                    Sambad (Jaypore edition) has reported the event)

*****

 

Travails of a Tax Officer

 

I am a bibliomaniac; I am tempted to buy, if I happen to see books of my taste. My favourite place in the railway station or airport is bookshop. I have purchased a good number of books from railway stations and airports. But I am unable to read all those books. I may have purchased five, read three and if I come across good books I will purchase another five. The unread books get piled up in my library.

I decided to read all those unread books after I retired from service. I politely declined an extension of my job when offered to me, to read and of course, to write. I retired in 2019. I found a little difficulty initially to cope with post retirement life from an active routine service life. During this time I decided to write my memoirs, and to write without procrastination, before memory faded away. I started arranging the old notes, journals I had maintained, although irregularly, to overcome post retirement adjustment problem.

Then Covid-19 from China reached India and government imposed lock-downs, shutdowns and all kinds of restrictions. I got myself confined to my house. The communication to outside was through telephone, internet, face book or WhatsApp. A feeling was there that the future was uncertain, anything could happen to anybody at anytime. A few of my known or near and dear ones died of Covid. The conditions were quite depressing, I  went into depression. Then I felt the urgency to finish my memoirs which I had started a few months before the onset of the pandemic.

I finished the first draft by December, 2020. Bharat Bharati published the book Anichhuk Prasasak and released it in October, 2021.

The book received, to use a cliché, mixed reactions. Most of the readers appreciated the book and were full of praise and a few condemned me. Those who appreciated the book telephoned me, sent messages through WhatsApp or posted their views on Facebook timeline. I am quoting here some of the views, particularly sent through WhatsApp or posted on Facebook timeline in English only:

 

(Manisha is a school teacher and Sudhansu, a student of English literature, a was special commissioner, GST)

(Sailendra is a banker, resident of Mumbai)

                                          (Radharanman is a banker, residing in Mumbai)

Those who condemn me does it on my back, except one who wrote two pieces in a web magazine, of course, without mentioning my name, but castigating me and casting personal aspersions. The persons to whom they vilify me duly inform me. It pains me when I learn some of those who malign me were once my friends; at least, I considered them so. They speak one thing in my front and the opposite behind; of course, this peculiar behaviour not unusual with the persons in administration I have witnessed during my thirty years stint in the tax department. The appreciation elated me and vilification amused. I am grateful to those who admire and thankful to the condemners. For, both have contributed to sale/promotion of the book. The publisher of Anichhuk Prakasak, for the first time, paid a handsome royalty for half yearly sales of the book.

My friends of outside the state, on learning the publication of my memoirs in Odia from the Facebook and WhatsApp, urged me to write it in English so that they could read, and I obliged them, and now “A Reluctant Bureaucrat.” Shalandi Books has published the book within a very short time. Thanks to Shalandi Books.

(Sibabrata Das, IAS (Rtd.), retired bureaucrat  is reading A Reluctant Bureaucrat)

Love for the Princess

 

It was 1977. The emergency was lifted. The press, muzzled during emergency, was now enthusiastic to expose the emergency excesses. Perhaps, they were making up what they could not or were debarred from doing during the emergency. First time, a non congress party, Janata Party formed government; Moraji Desai was the prime minister.

We used to sit on a bench of the tea stall and hold our Khatti (adda in Bengali) everyday in the afternoon in the college square in front of the block office in Jajpur. Then, I was studying in  N. C. College. The driver of the BDO sat with us and was also a member of the Khatti.

The driver told us a story; he claimed to be privy to the incident. One top bureaucrat, a senior member of the IAS, was corrupt and oppressive. Field officers were mortally afraid of him. Wherever this IAS officer visited, he stayed the night and a woman served him fried fish with whisky in the inspection bungalow. He enjoyed his whiskey and the woman.

The driver told us that this IAS officer had visited the Block where he was driving the jeep of the BDO, and had driven a woman employee in the night to the inspection bungalow.

The story Behind the Scene is based on the incident told by the driver. The story was originally published in ‘Jhankar’ in 2000, the twenty-fifth year of emergency.

When I was treasury officer in Satyabadi (1992-96), my batch mate was the BDO in Kanash. He was honest and sincere, but his honesty did not go well with his political and administrative bosses. He could not withstand the pressure, and harassment inflicted on him by his collector and the minister. He committed suicide. This incident provoked me to write the story Chakravyuha.

The story then created a sensation in Puri district, as it was published in Katha within one year of his death and the incident was fresh in the memory. The story upset the collector, the petty politicians sent me hate and abusive mails; but the officer in charge of the police station treated me with a sumptuous lunch in a dhaba. This story also facilitated my transfer from Satyabadi, which I could not get despite all my efforts.

During my school/college days I was a member of the students’ wing of a leftist party. Of course, party and politics disillusioned me and I left soon. But I have not forgotten those friends. Whenever we have chanced meeting we exchange greetings.

One day (in 1999) I met such a friend. He was a committed member of the cadre. He was doing party works and for a livelihood, he sold books supplied by USSR. The persons having a taste for literature might have bought Dostovesky, Gorky, Turgenov, Tolstoy, Gogol, Puskin, etc in 1970s or in early 1980s at a cheap price and have enjoyed the books. This was before Gorbachev and his glasnost and perestroika. Gorbachev’s reforms broke up USSR and Russian supply of books stopped. Communist movement in India weakened. This friend of mine did not give up his ideology, but became a pauper. Once he was dreaming of bringing revolution and changing the society, now he was struggling hard to eke out a living to survive. His case inspired me to write the story Just for a Living. The Jhankar had originally published this story.

Love for the Princess contains nine stories including the above three. The stories are translated from original Odia by me, except one translated by Deepa Nayak.

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