DDO -II Junagadh (19)

19. District Development Officer - II (Junagadh) 

The Junagadh district of our time comprised what are today Junagadh, Gir-Somnath, and Porbandar a vast and vibrant region with 14 talukas, two Members of Parliament, and eleven MLAs.

That morning, Lakshmi and I woke up at the Manoranjan Guest House in Junagadh, after spending the night in the company of giant mosquitoes. After bathing and having tea and breakfast, I was getting ready to leave for the District Panchayat office, when exactly at 9:45 a.m., the phone rang it was Chief Secretary H.K. Khan on the line.

He said, “Parmar, hold on before taking charge — there’s a proposal to post another officer there.”

I replied, “Sir, I already filled out the CTC last night and assumed charge.”

He laughed and said, “Then fine — enjoy your posting.”

Relieved, I went to the office and, as a matter of courtesy, met officers and local leaders.

Unlike in Mehsana, the District Panchayat President, Sukhabhai Antrolia, came personally to greet me, a promising start indeed.

But the next morning, the Saurashtra Samachar carried a headline: “Bakruṁ kāḍtā ūnṭ peṭhuṁ” (In trying to drive out a goat, they invited a camel instead) and I became alert.

My predecessor, C.M. Leuva, was calm and gentle. We barely had time to exchange notes, yet with rare grace, he had signed my CTC that very night a gesture of true gentlemanliness.

My colleague from Panchmahals days, J.N. Singh, was then the Collector. Our chambers were in the same building. When I went to meet him, I noticed his transparent glass office door, and I liked the openness of it so much that, within a week, I had my own chamber door replaced with a glass panel, a symbolic gesture of keeping myself transparent to the public.

A Land of History and Beauty

Unlike Panchmahals, a drought-prone district, this was a land of plenty lush greenery all around, fields laden with groundnuts and cotton, orchards full of mangoes and coconuts.

There was no scarcity of rain, and except for a few coastal villages near Mangrol, no shortage of drinking water either.

Thanks to the Swadhyay movement, even saline areas were now witnessing the rise of freshwater ponds.

The entire district was like a grand pilgrimage of heritage and nature.

The majestic Girnar, touching the clouds, was the Revatachal of the Mahabharata, the Urayat mountain of ancient India, the Kailash of the West, a seat of meditation, devotion, and spiritual awakening.

During the Mauryan era, the region was administered by Greek-Persian governors, and it was called Yonagadh later became Junagadh.

The Ashokan rock edicts and Rudradaman I’s inscriptions attest to its deep historical significance. Remnants of the ancient Sudarshan Lake, built by damming the Swarna-shitika and Palashi rivers, still survive as Damodar Kund and Vishnu Mandir.

There are Buddhist caves, the shrines of Tirthankar Neminath, Ambaji, and Guru Dattatreya, as well as the Uparkot Fort, Adi Kadi Vav, and Navghan Kuvo. Here lives the eternal legend of Ra Khengar and Ranakdevi, with Siddharaj Jaysinh’s defiance interwoven into its folklore. Bhawannath temple, Mrigi Kund, and Nagabawa echo with the devotion of saints.

This land is sanctified by Narsinh Mehta, whose Prabhatiyas and the bhajan “Vaishnav jan to tene kahiye…” touched even Gandhiji’s heart —and it is also the maternal home of Gandhiji’s mother, Putlibai.

The last ruler of this proud Sorath land, Ra Mandalik III, was defeated by Bahadur Shah, became a fugitive, and was eventually buried in Ahmedabad.

During Mughal rule, Junagadh’s Nawabs sheltered families fleeing from Jamnagar’s feudatories.

This is the land of the lions of Sasan Gir, where poet Zaverchand Meghani’s Charan maiden waves her stick and calls out, “Ūbho re je, vannā kūtrā ūbho re je!”(Stand firm, O lions of the forest!)

A land of pride and spirit —of Saints Saghalsha and Kelaiyo Kunwar, and blessed by the vast Arabian Sea (Ratnakar Sagar).

Here stands the Somnath Jyotirlinga, the site of Lord Krishna’s departure from this world,

Tulsi Shyam, Ahmedpur Mandvi’s golden beach, the ports of Veraval, Porbandar, and Mangrol, and Porbandar, the birthplace and maternal home of Mahatma Gandhi.

From Chorwad to Madhavpur, the lush Naghed and Ghed plains stretch endlessly.

Nature has poured out its beauty here — sea, mountains, forests, and wildlife, all woven into the warm, loving hearts of the people of Sorath —whose hospitality can make even heaven seem forgettable.

Sattadhar and Parab’s community kitchens are world-renowned, and who could ever forget the taste of Kesari mangoes ripened under the Gir sun?

Working in a Blessed Land

Only the truly fortunate get the opportunity to work in such a beautiful region.

From the very beginning, I focused on welfare programmes and people-oriented administration.

I believed that if I worked swiftly, the system below would also speed up and so, every file that reached my desk was disposed of the same day.

Being a predominantly rural district, once the team got into rhythm, implementation of development schemes became faster.

This efficiency and responsiveness made the MLAs and District Panchayat members view me positively.

With 14 talukas, the workload was heavy, but being an affectionate person by nature, the work never felt like a burden.

I held firmly to clean conduct and Gandhian values, and as a result, political leaders would hesitate to call or pressure me for unfair work.

When public welfare projects move swiftly and honestly, there’s little room left for resentment.

The People’s Representatives

Members of Parliament  Govindbhai Shekhda and later Bhavanaben Chikhlia were both gentle and dignified individuals.

Govindbhai, a man of integrity, once privately shared how he and others were “won over” in the fall of the V.P. Singh government and the formation of the Chandra Shekhar government and how Gujarat’s Chief Minister Chimanbhai Patel had played a key role in that political shift.

Bhavanaben, on the other hand, was known for her photogenic public presence. People used to say, “She’s always ready for the camera,” but after becoming an MP, she worked tirelessly, raising local issues in Parliament and winning people’s affection. Her husband, a popular doctor, added further goodwill to her name.

Both she and Mangrol MLA Chandrikaben Chudasama, being originally from Ahmedabad, had a special affection for me.

The MLAs

Among the MLAs — Mahendrabhai, Devanandbhai, Punjabhai, Jashubhai Barad, Jawahar Chawda, Chandrikaben Chudasama, Kunwarjibhai Bhensania, Jethabhai Jora, and Hamirbhai Dhula —each was affectionate and genuinely people-oriented.

Chandrikaben would never tire of saying, “Saheb, saheb… my brother, my brother,” and through her warmth, people’s work always moved forward.

Jashubhai Barad was articulate and sharp-minded, a man who always stood for what was right.

Jawahar Chawda, the youngest MLA of the Assembly, lived life with style — his narrow, observant eyes behind his glasses and the ever-present smile on his face ensured that whatever he requested, got done immediately. I still recall the red lines on the white walls of his bedroom, which reflected his refined taste. He remained one of my staunch supporters.

Kunwarjibhai Bhensania was an ideal MLA, working on his farm, yet always visiting offices to follow up on people’s grievances. His connection with the people was such that locals used to say, “If a person dies in his constituency — or even if a cow dies — Kunwarjibhai will surely come to the condolence meeting.”

Devanandbhai’s loud voice carried the soft melody of Sorath — even today, I can still hear it echo if I close my ears and listen within.

Punjabhai, a humble public servant, raised more questions in the district and assembly than anyone else. We would tire of the discussions, but he never would.

Jethabhai and Hamirbhai were simple and sincere — they brought people’s representations quietly, never raised their voices, and knowing that their requests would be met, never complained.

The Taluka Panchayat Presidents

They too were active and dedicated — Sharadbhai Pandya of Mangrol, Veljibhai Machhani of Mangrol, and Sajanbhai Meraman of Porbandar — all unforgettable names.

All fourteen taluka presidents worked enthusiastically for Panchayati Raj development projects.

Unlike in Mehsana, here the Taluka Development Officers and presidents maintained close cooperation except in Veraval, where our TDO often faced difficulties.

Overall, Junagadh was a place where public representatives and officers worked hand in hand, and the spirit of Sorath made the administration both efficient and humane.

Harmony Over Hierarchy

In Junagadh, meetings rarely turned into conflicts, work was done through mutual understanding and relationships rather than arguments.

My ties with the people’s representatives were always warm and personal, and even after three decades since leaving Junagadh, those bonds remain deep and affectionate.

Many of those friends are no longer alive, but their threads of love and camaraderie still connect us in memory.

The Officers’ Team

Our team of officers was excellent.

In the police department, Range DIG Bhargav Saheb had a royal personality.

Collector J. N. Singh, my colleague from Panchmahals, was a cooperative and inclusive leader.

DSP Gopalsingh Parmar from Dahod was a noble and decent police officer.

Conservator of Forests (CF) Pradeep Khanna was sociable, while Deputy CF Ashok Saxena was full of friendship and goodwill.

We often held rotational house parties, which helped us enjoy family fellowship and strengthen administrative coordination.

Sometimes even the District Judge would join our gatherings.

Our GAS-1 officers working under us also maintained the same spirit of teamwork and coordination.

The Lost Award

The year 1990–91 went into preparation, but in 1991–92 and 1992–93, our district achieved excellent results in annual performance.

Nowadays, several awards are given to collectors and district development officers in different categories, but back then, there was only one award for best district performance across the entire state — with just first and second ranks.

Both Collector J. N. Singh and I represented Junagadh in the state-level competition.

Among the collectors, J. N. Singh won first place, but in the DDO category, I narrowly missed the top position, lead in performance marks of 75 and lost in committee’s marks of 25. Managing 14 talukas, I stood tall, while the winner had only one taluka to handle.

Even the committee seemed hesitant about its own decision, so they recommended a “consolation prize” for me — though I must admit, I was disappointed.

Still, J. N. Singh, in a gesture of grace, shared credit for his success with me, since his evaluation also included district panchayat achievements.

That comforted me.

I still remember that year’s grand party at Ahmedpur Mandvi, hosted in honour of Chief Secretary Khan Saheb by the Collector—the sky lit up with fireworks, rockets painting rangolis of light —a dazzling memory that still shines bright in my mind.

Bhavnath Nagabawa Fair

The Bhavnath Fair of Junagadh and the Boradevi Parikrama are both extremely famous.

At that time, Bhavnath was under a gram panchayat, so the entire responsibility for managing the fair rested with the district panchayat, making the District Development Officer (DDO) the central figure in the administration of the event.

Law and order and overall coordination were handled by the Collector and DSP.

With narrow roads and massive crowds running into lakhs, managing the fair required ensuring public safety, drinking water, sanitation, and overall comfort.

Food was generally taken care of by community kitchens (bhandaara), so that was not a major issue.

However, ensuring proper facilities for pilgrims, and for the Naga sadhus—including arrangements for their procession, bathing at Mrigikund, and other rituals—was a demanding task.

Stalls were also set up, and auctioned for revenue, while arrangements for lighting, sound systems, and decorations improved every year.

During those days, devotional singers and bhajan sessions filled Bhavnath with an atmosphere of pure Shiva devotion and festive spirit.

We successfully managed three consecutive fairs, earning wide appreciation for our efforts.

During the 1993 Bhavnath Fair, my parents came to visit. Since I didn’t want them to face difficulties in the crowd, I sent them early to the foothills area (taleti).

But I was completely immersed in administrative duties, and forgot to ensure their evening meal.

Local officers did only what they were told—without much initiative—so my father, who couldn’t easily tolerate hunger, suffered discomfort.

I somehow managed to arrange whatever food was available and served them late in the night, but that incident of inconvenience to my parents has stayed with me ever since.

Lok Sabha Election, 1991

The 1991 Lok Sabha elections arrived.

Rajiv Gandhi visited Junagadh, and the whole town gathered for his rally.

My wife Laxmi said she wanted to see the Prime Minister. I told her, “Go ahead—you’re not a government employee.”

She took Dhawal (our son) with her and stood along the road where Rajiv Gandhi’s convoy was to pass.

Dhawal wore a yellow shirt, which caught Rajiv Gandhi’s attention. Smiling, Rajiv Gandhi threw the garland he was wearing, and it landed around Dhaval’s neck.

Just two or three days later, Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated. That day, seven-year-old Dhaval sat in silence, lost in thought.

That brief encounter became a poignant and unforgettable memory for all of us.

In that same election, I served as the Returning Officer for the Porbandar constituency, which then included not only the present Porbandar district, but also areas of Rajkot district—like Dhoraji and Upleta.

In that election, Harilal Patel of the BJP won, and Balvant Manvar of the Congress was defeated.

Discipline in Panchayats

At that time, Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi’s famous remark — “Only 15 paise of every rupee sent from Delhi reaches the villages” — had stirred the nation.

He initiated the direct allocation of plan grants to gram panchayats, aiming to strengthen local self-governance.

Earlier, at village meetings, only the Talati-cum-Panchayat Secretary would prepare the agenda, and sarpanches mostly remained idle.

Once discretionary grants and incentive-based development schemes were introduced, their participation grew. And when funds began flowing directly to gram panchayats, their activity and responsibility both increased.

Later, the state government permitted panchayats to execute works up to ₹5 lakh without formal tenders.

Naturally, as funds increased, irregularities also began to surface — a human tendency. Hence, it became essential to enforce administrative discipline.

While officials and staff were kept under check, very few officers used the powers available under the Panchayati Raj Act to discipline elected representatives.

Within just two months of my posting, I suspended the President of Kutiyana Taluka Panchayat, handing charge to the Vice-President — signaling that discipline would be strictly upheld.

Over the next three years, around 46 sarpanches were suspended under provisions of the Panchayat Act.

The strict action taken against a small 5% ensured that the remaining 95% functioned smoothly and honestly.

As a result, our Panchayati Raj administration ran effectively and with credibility.

District Rural Development Agency (DRDA)

Among district officials, the Project Director of the District Rural Development Agency (DRDA), Dal Saheb, also faced suspension.

He wasn’t directly involved in wrongdoing, but under his authority, a massive fraud exceeding ₹1 crore took place.

The fraud was clever: when he signed a cheque, the impression left by his pen on the next leaf of the cheque book was traced and copied,and fake cheques were issued and deposited in private accounts by his Accounts Officer.

Dal Saheb’s real mistake was failing to verify earlier cheque transactions when a new cheque book was issued. Had he been more vigilant, the fraud might have been caught earlier, and public funds saved.

I’m not aware of the final outcome of the inquiry or whether the embezzled funds were recovered, but whatever amount was found in the culprit’s bank accounts was frozen and recovered by the government.

Primary Education

By law, the District Primary Education Officer (DPEO) and the District Primary Education Committee were independent of the District Development Officer.

Often, when a DPEO was nearing retirement, they no longer feared performance reviews (CRs), and if they enjoyed backing from senior officials, they would misuse their authority freely.

Our DPEO frequently violated rules, issuing arbitrary transfer orders for teachers.

Complaints reached me, and after inquiry, I wrote to the Education Department recommending disciplinary action and immediate transfer. But the officer continued his mischief.

Once, during a public hearing (Lok Darbar) held by Chief Minister Chimanbhai Patel in a village of Porbandar district, someone raised this issue before him.

The Chief Minister asked, “What is the DDO doing about this?”

I handed over a copy of my correspondence and said, “Sir, I have already written to the Education Department, but no one has acted, and the officer continues as before.”

Soon after, the officer was transferred, and the government issued formal guidelines for teachers’ transfers.

Earlier, due to political pressure and lack of regulation, there were excess teachers in urban schools and shortages in remote rural areas — a long-standing imbalance that finally began to improve.

Shashikant Lakhani

One of the most distinguished personalities of Junagadh district was Shashikant Lakhani, Member of the Legislative Assembly from Porbandar and Minister for Industries in the Government of Gujarat.

He was calm, simple, honest, and highly intelligent — a man of character who would never support wrongdoing or stand by falsehood.

Ideologically, he was connected with the Sarvodaya movement, having long associated with Ratu Bhai Adani of the old Gandhian tradition.

Deeply spiritual, he was also closely linked with Pandit Nathuram Sharma’s Anand Ashram in Bilkha. The managing trustee of that ashram, Hariharbhai Joshi, a retired IAS officer and father of my friend Gopal, served as a bridge of warm association between Lakhani and me.

At one point, when my elder brother lost his job after his textile mill closed, our family faced severe financial hardship. During that difficult time, Lakhani Saheb helped us immensely — he offered my nephew Suresh a job in his office, a gesture of genuine kindness that revealed his compassionate nature.

He was utterly straightforward and loyal.

There came a phase when efforts were being made to destabilize Chief Minister Chimanbhai Patel’s government.

The opposition even offered Shashikant Lakhani the post of Chief Minister if he agreed to switch sides.

But he firmly declined, saying, “There is no trace of betrayal in my blood.”

With that principled stand, he remained a strong pillar of support to Chimanbhai Patel’s government — a true example of integrity and Gandhian steadfastness in politics.

Our President

Our District Panchayat had over 10,000 employees, so naturally there was no shortage of work. And with such a large institution, could disagreements really be avoided?

At that time, the President of the District Panchayat also served as the Chairman of the Executive Committee.

When I was posted in Mehsana earlier, I had never gotten involved in the endless loop of agricultural-to-non-agricultural land conversion files.

Files that followed the rules were approved; those that didn’t were sent back.

The Revenue Branch and Deputy District Development Officer were well aware of my methodical and transparent style of working.

A day before our first official meeting, President Sukhbhai came to my chamber.

He said politely, “Sir, please clear the non-agricultural conversion files I recommend, and in return, like your predecessors, I’ll take care of you.”

I respectfully declined and replied, “You need not worry about files that follow the rules. But where there are defects, the case will remain pending until they are rectified.”

He didn’t like my refusal to fall in line.

Because of his continued insistence on clearing faulty proposals, differences arose between us.

Soon, the District Panchayat meetings turned into a mini-assembly. I had to attend every session with all relevant files, ready to defend my decisions and reply to his objections.

But truth never loses.

Since the minutes of the meetings were written by the District Development Officer (DDO), whenever the Executive Committee passed defective proposals, the DDO would add remarks and forward them to the Development Commissioner for disapproval.

The Commissioner’s office usually upheld those objections, and this further deepened the tension within our Panchayat.

Though our President was generally a calm man, he finally tried one last move.

One day, he came to my office with his associate Lilabhai Khunti, who was also a member of District Panchayat and Chairman of one Committee.

They said, “Sir, you have small children. Be sensible — it’s in your own interest. You don’t even have to do anything — just go along. 

And if you don’t agree, well, you know how things go here — sometimes people disappear with the sound of a gun in Porbandar.”

The young man inside me stirred.

I unbuttoned my sleeves, rolled them up a little, and said, “Who has seen the future? If you really want to test me, let’s step outside — to the ground below.”

They were both sensible men.

It seemed that Sukhbhai himself regretted having spoken those words. 

He quietly got up and left.

From that day onward, except for occasional mentions of non-agricultural files, he never interfered in my work again.

Later, I came to know that he had a good rapport with some lower-level officers, which had fueled some of the friction.

On the other hand, following my reports and the DDO’s recommendations, the Development Commissioner issued four suspension notices against the District Panchayat President under provisions of the Panchayati Raj Act for misuse of authority.

During one of the hearings before the Development Commissioner, Sukhbhai being the man of honour that he was, admitted that he had indeed offered me financial benefits and that I had firmly refused.

That honest acknowledgment increased my respect for him even more. I have never liked double-faced people — those who are different inside and outside, beating two drums at once.

Personal Life

Once my position became stable, so did the children’s education. Ujjwal and Dhawal began studying at Kendriya Vidyalaya.

The Collector and District Development Officer (DDO) were allotted the same residence.

It was the same house where Junagadh’s former Diwan, Shahnawaz Bhutto, had once lived. 

The ground floor was for the DDO, and the upper floor for the Collector.

Next to it stood a small but independent Deputy Collector’s quarter, all within one large compound.

The compound was spacious enough that the children never needed to go outside to play.

Every evening, Collector’s son Aditya, my sons Ujjwal and Dhawal, Rajendrabhai’s son Pinal, and I played cricket together.

We had devised our own ground rules for runs, and Aditya had become so adept that one day he scored a century — without getting out!

For those three years, I think he spent more time playing with me than with his own father.

Since Junagadh was a tourist district, we frequently interacted with VIPs and senior officers.

Once, the family of Development Commissioner S. D. Sharma visited from London, and we all climbed Girnar together.

I still remember the taste of the masala kadha at Datar shrine — unforgettable.

When His Highness the Aga Khan visited, I had the honor of greeting him personally and shaking his hand.

Watching his followers line both sides of the road, longing for a glimpse of him, made me reflect deeply on the contrast between the worldly and the spiritual realms.

Laxmi’s Courage

After a year or two, a group of women — including my wife Laxmi — formed a small self-help group and learned bakery work.

At a public science event in Junagadh organized for superstition eradication,

Laxmi, draped in a sari, walked barefoot over burning embers and dipped her hands into boiling oil to pull out puris, demonstrating her fearlessness and strength before everyone.

Laxmi was my tigress — never to be underestimated.

Once, RDC Rajendrabhai Dave’s wife, Renuka, and Laxmi went vegetable shopping in the Kathiawad Market.

A local hoodlum suddenly pinched Renuka’s thigh muscle, causing her to scream, “Ah, Maadi!” — a big bruise appeared instantly.

Laxmi’s temper flared.

Without a second thought, she chased the man down the market road.

He ran for his life, but she had been a district-level sprinter, so she quickly caught up and landed a tight punch right in the middle of his back.

The blow hit so squarely that the man yelped in pain and doubled over.

Before he could recover, a crowd gathered, and realizing he was trapped, the man scrambled up and fled the scene.

After that day, he was never seen in that market again.

Some problems, I learned, cannot be solved by phone calls or complaints — they must be settled on the spot.

Laxmi gradually became self-reliant — she learned to ride a bicycle, scooter, and car in Junagadh.

While learning to ride the scooter, she once injured her leg seriously, but without panic, she went straight to the hospital for treatment, got herself bandaged, and carried on — fearless as ever.

Car Accident

In 1992, I had to go to Godhra for a court case, so I took my family along.

After lunch, while returning, our Maruti car met with an accident near Nadiad.

The road was crowded with vehicles coming from the opposite direction. Suddenly, a milk-laden truck swerved out of its lane and came directly toward us.

Our driver Ramesh tried to steer left to avoid the collision, but the entire right side of the car was crushed.

By sheer good fortune, all of us survived safely.

Ramesh was our third driver.

Before him, we had Gordhanbhai, who had weak eyesight and used to alternate between two pairs of spectacles during the rains, driving carefully but slowly.

After his retirement came Jinabhai. The road from Junagadh to Ahmedabad was then a two-lane highway with several accident-prone stretches.

Whenever we had to travel at night, I had to keep a close watch on Jinabhai — even when driving straight, he would sometimes doze off for a few seconds.

Once, the car hit a large stone lying in the middle of the road.

Whenever I sensed he was nodding off, I would call out, “Jinabhai, are you awake?”

He would instantly reply, “Yes, Saheb!” — but I wasn’t always convinced.

A Friend’s Bereavement

In matters of health, Junagadh had a Civil Hospital, headed by Dr. Chandrabhan Gadhvi, a former serviceman — enthusiastic, disciplined, and dedicated to his work.

Private doctors were also available, but for specialized treatment or emergencies, one often had to go to Rajkot.

Our DCF friend Ashok Saxena’s wife, Poornima, was expecting her first child.

Ashok was away on tour when she went into labor pains.

A private gynecologist attempted a forceps delivery, and the baby was injured.

The newborn boy needed incubator care, so Collector’s driver Vashram rushed him to Rajkot in the Collector’s car — but sadly, the child did not survive.

Our Civil Surgeon was a competent and experienced gynecologist, but the private doctor’s mishandling left him helpless.

Later, when the Collector’s son Siddharth was born safely, joy returned — but the loss Ashok suffered stayed with all of us for life.

My Transfer

As long as Minister Shashikant Lakhani stood by me, my opponents in the District Panchayat remained subdued.

When my three-year term was nearing completion, perhaps due to someone’s whispering influence, the Minister finally agreed to my transfer.

The MLAs of the district tried their best to intervene, but eventually, the transfer orders were issued.

Proposals were being discussed to post me either as Collector of Panchmahal or Collector of Valsad, but instead, I was appointed Secretary of the Narmada Rehabilitation Committee, to work under a retired High Court Justice. 

I had earlier earned the trust of Chief Minister Chimanbhai Patel during a district tour, particularly through a private conversation at the Porbandar Circuit House.

He used to introduce me to MLAs as “a fighter District Development Officer.”

So, I went straight to meet Chimanbhai Patel and explained my situation.

He asked, “Where do you wish to go?”

I replied, “As DDO of Valsad district.”

He asked, “Why Valsad in particular?”

I explained, “Because the current DDO, Z. A. Shaikh, is retiring on 31 March 1993.”

Immediately, the Chief Minister called his Secretary and amended the transfer order, appointing me as District Development Officer, Valsad.

Thus, I took charge at Valsad — entering the lush, peaceful, and straightforward district of South Gujarat.

My administrative journey, which had begun in the east at Panchmahals, continued north to Mehsana, west to Junagadh, and now, finally, south to Valsad.

 25 September 2025