Foundation Course at Mussoorie. What it is and Why it is and Other Such Ungrammatic Questions.

Why flog a dead horse, you ask?

Why bore people further with undead blog posts, you ask?

This blog was supposed to rest and relax in Cloud Heaven, with its well deserved company of virgin blogs. Why bring it back to the land of the dead?

Altruism is the word.

A new batch of civil servants has been revealed to the world few days ago. There were heart warming stories and symbolic achievements. Most of the 'achievers' would now bide time till the 7th of September whence Foundation Course commences. Rumour has it that the Foundation Course may be offered at one venue for all the services, subject to accommodation constraints. The venue being The Academy, of course. Be as it may, whether at much romantic Mussoorie or much more prosaic Hyderabad, Foundation Course is an exciting phase for a civil servant, budding or budded. The constant gardeners of The Academy shall keep all civil servants properly pruned. 

The hills straighten a lot of attitudes, to begin with. For the plains creatures, a hill journey would start with a symbolic and literal emptying of belly on the way up the sinuous roads from Rajpur to Library Chowk. Enroute, you would pass by the NIVH. Ladies and gentlemen, if you see to your right, you would be looking at NIVH. This is one institute, in fact the first institute, you would call on during the FC. When one had passed by the NIVH for the first time less than a year ago, one had a sense of deja vu. Illustrious seniors had written about their visit to the NIVH and Raphael, in gushing words, and one read their blogs with breathless excitement imagining life at The Academy. A month ago, while climbing down the Mussoorie range after completion of Phase 1 of Professional Training for IAS, one felt a double deja vu. 

Most blogs you come across would only talk of the going up. No one talks about the coming down. Your heart would be heavier than you weighed at the start of the FC, when you leave Mussoorie for the district training. Oh, the weight. Be prepared for a shock weight loss during the Grand Himalayan Trek. Unless you live off Universe Dew and Sweat of Heavenly Beings and or shrubs and roots and wild berries, one is assured of a weight loss during the week long trek. Should one be worried about one's fitness levels? No, if you ask me. Whether you are a well rounded personality or all angular and bony, whether you ran marathons galore or scarce moved out of your couch, or whether you get in to a bout of fitness frenzy before the start of the FC, all, and I repeat ALL, would huff and puff and pant equally when going up the steep incline from the Ganga Hostel to the Mess for the first few days. 

That is how it is. The mountains, I tell you. Over time, and especially if you are in the IAS where you would have more of the said over time, you will come to love the hills. The trek not only breaks fat molecules, it also breaks down icy personalities and bonds people unlike any other experience. The trek builds up a fortitude that will stand you in good stead in the future. Regarding the bonding. It will be of a rather unique character. You would have had made, erm, potty buddies. For, despite the Mission level importance accorded to free the country of Open Defecation, there are certain places and circumstances when if one has to go, one goes out in the open. Before dawn. Under the stars. With each other and few Himalayan bears for company. Relax, it wont be that bad. Just the stench will keep away the bears.

Normally the bear would be running away...from your stench. Image source:https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/53/c5/e1/53c5e1d9bc88435681fff0350ea08b6a.jpg

Not unless you have few extra pounds to spare. Image source: http://cdn.running.competitor.com/files/2013/09/5.jpg

 For the ever keen type 'achievers.' Nothing you pre-read and re-read for the FC will help you. The FC exams will be a googly anyway despite your PhDs and Post Doctorals in Economics, Political Science, Probability and Statistics, Management, Public Administration, Law and in Hindi. So, relax, brush up only your teeth (a fresh breath helps in finding a suitable boy or girl, tooth paste research shows) and sleep tight. Or not. It would be of help if you can culture yourself a bit. A dance form or two. A loosening up of vocal cords. Nothing too fancy, just the basics would do. And please, if there is a real, felt need at The Academy, it is for good comperes and emcees. If you can be witty and keep the audience from yawning, what more son, all the world and the Academy will be yours.

What else can be yours? A bride or a groom as per your cadre, convenience, caste and choice. The choice will be of your parents'. In fact, ignore everything you read above. The hills have had a reputation for being the playgrounds of Cupid. If you do fall, you would only throw away your heart. Skinned hearts are no worse than skinned knees.

Skinned knees and sprained ankles are taken care of at the dispensary near the Sardar Patel Hall (SPH, a class room where Phase 1 OTs are trapped and trained, as opposed to SA, Sampoornanand Auditorium aka ultra luxe sleeping quarters for FC OTs). There are no salves for skinned hearts unfortunately, except a well made drink and a friendly ear to chew out. The drink can be had at the Officer Trainees' Lounge in the Karmshila complex which also houses the awesome library and Officers' Mess and class rooms. The OT Lounge is a nice place to laze around post lunch. Plush carpets, cushy couches, LCD TV, disco-lights, wood floor dancing area etc are but few creature comforts that await a weary OT in the lounge. 

The Officers' Mess is an institution. A venerable institution. It not only provides sustenance but also views of the Himalayas. The views are more fulfilling than the very nutritious food and it is no exaggeration. Appropriate dress code is prescribed for the Mess and it is advisable to follow the code, to respect the institution. Check out the gallery of the Mess. The trophies and mementos will spring a surprise or two.

The library is a treasure house. If the printed word means anything to you, then you will find the Gandhi Smriti Library a fruition of that meaning.

There are many more wonders of The Academy with which a fresh OT  would do well to be acquainted. We leave descriptions of such wonders for another post? Oui.

C'est Fini Les Amis

A last push

I adopted a multi modal transport approach to arrive at Patiala after the valedictory ceremony. Why is that relevant? There are two aspects to the mode of travel and this day's events that are correlated. The valedictory gathering was addressed by the Honourable President of India. He exhorted the OTs of the 89th Foundation Course to adhere to the tenets of the Constitution, to be responsive to people and to be responsible for the development of the country. In the mass transport systems that I had availed of, a bus to Dehra Dun, a Vikram (7 seater auto) to the ISBT, a bus to Saharanpur, a general compartment train ride to Ambala, a Magic van (8 seater automobile) ride to Patiala, one rubbed shoulders with the people whose principal representative addressed the gathered OTs that very morning. In those ballooning delays, in the grit of the unkempt general compartment and the grime of the public utilities, in the disfunctioning anarchy of the system we misnamed as 'transport', in that dreamy disjointed multimodality, I found the reason for the existence and the cessation of the civil services.

The valedictory function went off without glitches. The Honourable President arrived at the Academy and has had a group photo taken with the officers of the 89th Foundation Course. The Honourable President then addressed the OTs, his employees in the literal sense. The valedictory ceremony was preceded by a mini drama of sorts involving course completion certificate, the OTs and a few palpitating hearts gripped by the fear of failure. The OTs were given a course completion certificate, a copy of the group photo taken few days ago and a sketch of the director's office building by a very talented artistic OT. 

The OTs with the highest marks in various subjects and the OTs who promoted the esprit de corps were awarded prizes by the Honourable President of India.

The 89th Foundation Course came to an end with a lunch in the Officers' Mess. 

Tears were shed, farewells were said, numbers exchanged, selfies clicked and without much ado, the 89th Foundation Course came to an end.

Heart's strings were plucked, a portion in the pit of the stomach went into knots encountering familiar and fond faces, knowing one would not see them as often as one would have wanted. Pretty faces, handsome faces, friendly faces, smiling faces, haughty faces, faces of civil servants all, they will remain in that portion of the brain which specializes in short term memories and will be over written by more immediate faces, a set of 180 faces, a fresh beginning of understanding old faces. What remains in the long term?

What remains in the long term is our conception of reluctant starts to friendships, of awkward remembering of faces and corresponding names, of human bonds and the surprising transformation that urgency has brought about in the nature of relationships. Would we have felt the same way if the Foundation Course was of 5 year duration?

The star ship Mycadea righted itself after the group photo, opened all the vents of the Karamshila Engine Complex, fired all its engines and achieved escape velocity within an hour of address by the First Citizen. However, 180 T-OTs were left behind and they looked on, many with moist eyes, heavy hearts, restless minds, looked on at the departing 104 T-OTs, their friends, lovers, philosophers and guides over the past 111 days.

Godspeed spacefarers!

PS:

As promised, this is the last post on this blog, Labhashana.blogspot.com regarding the 89th Foundation Course. While I debate whether to continue the same title and merely demarcate the Foundation Course section or to start a new blog with a new title and a different ethos, I would like to thank you dear readers for everything and nothing.

My personal objectives for the FC were realized in parts. Weight loss- yes but unsatisfactory. Books read- yes but far too few. Super power attained- Anonymity- worked well but only to an extent.

And that is all folks.

Post Script: I did decide to blog about the 1st Phase. You can read all about the 1st phase here.
https://firstphaser.wordpress.com

On Leadership and Farewells

Lao Tzu says "A leader is best when people barely know he exists, when his work is done, his aim fulfilled, they will say: we did it ourselves."

Is such a leadership suitable for the civil services? Can a civil servant be not seen? Should a civil servant be not seen?

The Leadership Module scheduled over two and half days aims at mapping the leadership competencies of the OTs, the future leaders to use but one cliche. The workshop exercises were heavy on crayon sketching and might have resembled a kindergarten class of overgrown OTs drawing their hearts out while the benevolent faculty looked on.

Preparation for the one act play is in full swing. Natural and unnatural actors are emerging. Hope it will be an entertaining evening. [Full disclosure: I am involved somehow with the play].

It seems only yesterday when I started blogging with a very narrow mandate. I had referred to the quintessential bureaucratic process of 'no-dues.' It is time for the 'no-dues' dance to begin. Books have to be returned, accounts settled with the juice-wallah, the Home Turf, Plaza Cafe, Ganga Dhaba, forgetful Bihari friends and so on.

One has grown fond of the fellows who would be completing their professional training at their respective service's training institutions. Future CAG, Chairperson CBEC, Chairman CBDT etc have made excellent friends. Their presence would be missed. 

Another four days remain for the FC to be wrapped up. I may not get time to say goodbye to most friends owing to the hectic schedule. I thank the readers of this blog for their sustained interest. Without your consistent encouragement it would not have been possible for me to write. If writing the blog is half the picture, you readers sitting in front of monitors or smartphones hearing me out patiently, bearing with my rants and acid laced barbs and bureaucratese infested event updates are the other half.

I may yet continue blogging of events in Phase 1. However, it will not be the same. I may start a new blog for that phase. As of now, these are the last few posts for the 89th FC blog. I have had fun writing, as much as I could. There is nothing of interest to the UPSC Civils aspirants and that is how I meant it to be. No coaching advice, no motivational quotes, no challenges to your dignity or mine.

Notwithstanding anything I might have said in this blog, the Officer Trainees of the 89th Foundation Course batch are unique, purpose driven and ambitious. Most are empathetic, concerned citizens. The Rainbow Batch, as I had called it, shall be looked up at to achieve great things.

On a sunset

The sun set on the 3rd of December was the best so far.

The Himalayas were mountains of the moon, shining jagged pieces of blemished silver, looked so sharp and bright as if pain got personalized and projected on to looming granite. Lustrous. The sun did its business for the day and came home for the night, met by the blushing mountains, blushing of the night ahead.

The valleys filled with a gray black haze, a miasma arising from the depths of the earth and filling up the hollows, the crooks and the deepnesses of the valleys while the sunlight fled up the slopes, anti gravitic, hurried and ungentlemanly. The darkness was the ink into which an accidental writer dipped his pen and sketched scenes from memory.

Motor cars turned corners on roads stencilled in to the hill sides, their headlamps intermittent fireflies. Or they were sprites of the seas playing peekaboo with the intense looking sailor gazing at them from the portholes of the upside down star ship Mycadea. The sailor plodded midway through a thin book of stars to chart a course for Mycadea. It was slow work, involved turning pages aided by the infrequent wetting of the index finger tip to provide a grip. The sailor was confused, tired and he clicked the pages with his index finger thinking they were virtual. He felt stupid and so gazed out of the window. It has been 93 days since Mycadea crashed on to this strange sad planet. He had been asked to plot a course to Phase 1 star system. He did not understand the point of the exercise when their star ship was stuck headfirst on a hill on earth. How was the captain planning on getting them unstuck, for instance? How would they be airborne? Do they have enough fuel even to upright themselves? He had no answer and the captain was his usual inscrutable silly self. The cadre comet was a fizzle compared to the anticipation it created. The Toughened Operational Turnips (T-OTs) had already calculated the trajectory and the probable crash points of the comet and braced themselves.

Exhaust vents of Mycadea

The middle ranges were bald nude brown in the sun light and in the rapid night rise were menacing hulks of negative space. Villages on the slopes shone in clusters of light and, to the sailor disoriented by his thoughts, they looked like boats tossed about by gigantic waves. The star ship made sense, but it has capsized, and the aliens and the T-OTs were breathing air trapped under the belly of the boat.

He felt heroic, clever even, for having thought of this analogy. He felt sea sick too, imagining the mountains as waves and himself as driftwood. The villages must be underground cities, populated by pretty mermaids. He thought of all the hill women he saw, prettier than pearls. He wondered if he could stay back on this planet, live in a village for a while, love a lovely hill woman, move to another village, love another woman, an itinerant romantic in eternal search for happiness.

Just then the captain Chip Spik bellowed at him for day dreaming when on the job. He wanted the course on his desk five minutes ago and warned the sailor that in case he falls behind schedule one more time he will be delivered to Ming the Merciless.

 

On Impossible Trinity

It is not always vitriol and vinegar. Oftentimes one gets touched by the terrible cuteness of it all. Techno-managerial-bureaucrats pooling in resources, joining purpose, attaching minds and hearts to solve intractable problems of how to score more marks and rank above the next person is a heartening sight. A mark here or there is all that determines whether one becomes a cabinet secretary or a chief secretary or a nobody. It is that tough, this intense competition, this dog-eat-dog-eat-dog-eat-dog-eats chowmein and momos world. Tough, tough, tough. And amidst this chlorinated atmosphere, this pungent, vitiated air, there are heartwarming stories of romance, budding love, pink and rose hued shades of friendship, of group studies in groups in which oftentimes one has eyes for only one or more, of congregations in the hostel lounges, of currency in slide handouts, justice, welfare, maintenance all mingling in cloying displays of affection and equal parts tension. What of the time when one is in the field, that far away, exotic la-la land of red, blue and amber beacons and four score retinues and the forefathers breathing down one's neck?

A possible trinity but an impossible threesome. Alas!

Here is an impossible trinity for you. Dinner at Momo's, dinner at Little Llama, desserts at Clock Tower Cafe or Rockby all in the same day. That came out all wrong, it is quite possible.

Let us try again. Fixed exchange of hearts, open bank account and autonomy in marriage policy. Ha! Got you.

A good thing about the exam is that the whole batch is exempted from PT. Hurray!

On Networking and Little Llama Cafe

A 'maha' cultural festival comprising of performances by the very senior officers of Phase 5 training programme and the FC participants, followed by an interaction session between the two ends of a civil servant's career spectrum were the highlights of the day.

It is always a good idea to find a mentor. Few OTs are brilliant at networking. In a twisted, false sense of propriety, a misplaced modesty, a characteristic hypocrisy that typifies us, networking is seen as a sinister activity, as a sign of inferiority complex, a sign that one is taking advantage of people. I believe it only shows a congenital fear of social interactions. Networking is a key activity in professional lives. The word networking is a compact explanation of a complex process of social interaction. There is no need to disparage networking. One only stands to gain from it.

A corollary of networking, or, rather, a consequence of networking is lobbying. This is a dirty word the way it is understood. Lobbying for one's interests is a basic process of social membership. The whole world lobbies for the rich and the mighty. Who lobbies for the common man? The beauty of the Indian civil services is that the Constitution of India mandates that the civil servants be the lobbyists for the poor and the underprivileged.

In a departure from the rut we had fallen in to, namely continued patronage of the restaurant Momo's (on Kulri Bazaar road), we checked out the delightfully cramped Little Llama Cafe on the Kulri road, next to the Union Church. It can seat at most 7 well-fed OTs sans their egos. The compact open kitchen lets one see and smell the food being cooked, a fascinating experience any time. One recalls the many hours spent watching one's mother in the kitchen creating beauty and perfection in food. One also chipped in by helping when possible, chopping, dicing, slicing things. The menu at Little Llama features western snack and fast food at moderate prices. It is a welcome change from the many bowls of Thukpa and platters of meat Saptak one has at Momo's.

At Momo's on Kulri Road

With only 15 days to go, most activities of the FC are winding down. Tomorrow is the last day of academic classes and also of PT. The end term exams start from Monday and will go on for five days. Most OTs are preparing for the exams at a fever pitch.

Two weeks and it is curtains down.