15. IAS@1985 District Training
There were 160 officers in the IAS Batch of 1985. From August to December 1985, we underwent foundation training, followed by a fifteen-day Bharat Darshan (study tour across India). During that period, we met President Giani Zail Singh at the Rashtrapati Bhavan and Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi at his residence, 7, Race Course Road, in Delhi. We also visited the Parliament House and learned about parliamentary procedures.
After that, we returned to the Academy at Mussoorie for Phase-I training. Upon completing it, on 10 June 1986, we were posted to our respective states and districts as Supernumerary Assistant Collectors for field training.
Gujarat Cadre
A total of twelve officers were allotted to the Gujarat cadre. Among them, Anil Mukim and I were designated as insiders. However, of the remaining ten officers, Susmit Kumar resigned during the Phase-I training itself, and several others were quite disheartened by the cadre allotment with new formula. It was central topic of discussion in closer groups.
Before our arrival at SPIPA (Sardar Patel Institute of Public Administration), we had already reported to our allotted districts for field attachment.
Since Anil Mukim and I were from Ahmedabad, we stayed at our respective homes during SPIPA training, while our nine other batchmates stayed at the Vishram Gruh (Guest House) in Ahmedabad. Most of their time there was spent discussing the injustice of cadre allotment.
At the guest house, they found humor even in mealtime complaints — the cook would serve rice with a teaspoon, as if he were serving diamonds or pearls. When they persuaded, he finally began serving full bowls.
An impression was gathered that that “Gujarat is a weak cadre and even the food here is no match to their taste!” Eventually, Barbara Marvin resigned during district training and returned, while Anita Bhattnagar later got her cadre changed to home state Uttar Pradesh.
Since I stayed at home, my batchmates would often say, “Show us your house, show us your house!” So, with much hesitation, I once took them to see the chawl house in the slums where I lived. Majority of them came along. I never knew what impression that visit left on their minds but they never spoke of it again.
Courtesy Calls
We went to pay a courtesy visit to Governor R.K. Trivedi. Right at the start, there was an awkward moment — all of us wore button-up suits, coats, and shoes, except one officer who arrived in pants, shirt, and chappals. The issue was raised, to which heard him saying in defense, “The government hasn’t given us any money to get button-up suits stitched!”
As part of our formal calls, we also met Chief Secretary R.V. Chandramouli and Revenue Secretary N. Gopalaswami. Gopalaswami Sir hosted lunch for our batch at his residence in Sector-19, where he personally stood and served plates to all of us.
One of the stalwarts of our cadre, Hamid Kabirulla Khan (popularly known as H.K. Khan), we first met at Hotel Cama in Ahmedabad. At the time, he was Additional Chief Secretary of the Industries Department.
As part of a tradition meant to introduce IAS probationers to senior cadre officers and to enjoy a good meal, a get-together dinner was organized, likely sponsored by GIIC (Gujarat Industrial Investment Corporation), at Hotel Cama one evening.
H. K. Khan Saheb, who looked as handsome as the film actor Feroz Khan, arrived wearing a full-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. When he joined us for dinner, his charismatic personality drew everyone’s attention.
Seeing him in jeans and a T-shirt reminded me of that incident during our governor’s visit, when one of our batchmates had turned up in pants and chappals. I thought to myself, “Once we become seniors, we’ll have such liberties too!”
In contrast, at the Academy, everything was rigidly structured; what to wear, what not to wear, how to hold forks and spoons during formal dinners, and so on.
As someone used to eating with five fingers, I often found it amusing that we were being trained in these Western table manners supposedly to govern the people of India.
Training at the Administrative Institute
At SPIPA (Sardar Patel Institute of Public Administration), we had the privilege of hearing from N. Vittal, the then Managing Director of GNFC (Gujarat Narmada Fertilizers Company). He candidly explained how he had originally founded SPIPA as GITA — the Gujarat Institute of Training and Administration — inspired by the Bhagavad Gita. Coincidentally, his wife’s name was also Gita.
He spoke not only of GNFC’s success but also about the failure of the Girnar Scooter project (Gujarat Narmada Auto Limited). Yet, his story of building GNFC into a jewel of Gujarat’s public sector was truly fascinating.
During our field visits, the tour of GNFC left a lasting impression — especially its corporate guest house and fine dining.
Another IAS speaker was known for being frank and outspoken. When one of us asked, “How is the camaraderie among IAS officers in the Gujarat cadre?” he let out an expletive and replied bluntly: “Here, no one belongs to anyone. When trouble comes, you’re on your own.”
Learning Astrology
During SPIPA training, I often found the classroom sessions rather dull. Along with us were officers from the Gujarat Administrative Service (GAS). I used to sit beside Anis Mankad.
My mother had a deep interest in astrology. Every Sunday, she would make me read the horoscope column aloud to her. Since her zodiac sign was the same as mine, I too developed an interest in it- though I couldn’t quite grasp which planet ruled which sign, what its exaltation or debilitation meant, or how it influenced our lives.
Anisbhai, however, was very knowledgeable in astrology. So while the class went on at one end, we would quietly draw horoscopic charts, dividing the globe into twelve parts along its 360-degree axis and discuss planetary movements.
I gradually came to understand concepts such as —the lords of each zodiac sign, planets in exaltation, debilitation, or own house, their auspicious and inauspicious aspects, the houses (trines and angles), benefic and malefic planets, their mutual friendships and enmities, the Vimshottari Mahadasha, Navamsha charts, and other technical terms.
Being a student of statistics, my analytical mind absorbed the numerical logic behind astrology, while my inner discipline and purity helped me grasp its spiritual dimension.
Thus, I ended up mastering astrology — probably the most productive use of training time anyone could have made!
Gujarat Darshan
As part of our Gujarat Darshan study tour, we visited Amul Dairy in Anand.
It was fascinating to learn how one man, Dr. Verghese Kurien, along with visionary leaders of Kheda district’s Patel community, especially Tribhuvandas Patel, broke free from British-controlled milk production to gift India the remarkable model of Amul.
The story of this cooperative revolution was truly inspiring although, interestingly, their later attempt to replicate it with Dhara edible oil didn’t succeed.
During our interaction, Dr. Kurien’s dislike for IAS officers was quite apparent he did not try to hide it.
Drought prone Gujarat
Gujarat is a drought-prone state, and coincidentally, our batch entered the IAS during a drought year.
Since the state’s formation in 1960, successive governments had been constructing dams on rivers and implementing multi-purpose irrigation projects to manage water scarcity.
At that time, the Ukai Dam was the largest and most significant project, while Panam and Kadana were also well-known.
The Narmada Project had already received judicial clearance, but its execution was still delayed due to disputes over dam height and rehabilitation of displaced families in Madhya Pradesh.
We visited the Dharoi Dam, where one of our batchmates, Dina Nath Pandey, noticed a cart selling jalebi.
He asked the vendor, “Are these fresh?”
The man replied earnestly, “Yes, they’re fresh — made just three or four days ago!”
His answer made everyone laugh.
At Panam, we stayed overnight at the project guest house to study the scheme.
That night, due to my habit of staying up late and chatting, one of my batchmates found me obstructive in missing out on a certain opportunity though he didn’t elaborate what kind.
During the Ukai Dam visit, we observed how the rehabilitation issues of the Narmada oustees were being handled.
We realized that once a proper model is developed and implemented successfully, it becomes much easier to replicate provided all stakeholders agree.
When we visited Valsad, the District Development Officer, Arunkumar Sutariya, and his wife hosted a dinner for all of us.
It was also during that trip that I saw the Tithal seashore for the first time and found it truly beautiful.
My District Training in Panchmahals
After completing our classroom training, Secretariat branch visits, Gujarat Darshan, and the Revenue Higher Grade Examination, we all returned to our respective districts for field training.
I too was assigned to Godhra the headquarters of Panchmahal district as a Supernumerary Assistant Collector for my district training.
The Power of the Talati (Patvari)
During a training visit to a village in Godhra taluka with a Talati (village revenue officer), I came across a well-known saying that perfectly summed up the importance of the Talati in the revenue administration: “collector kare kakdat, mamlatdar munjay, circle bicharo shu kare, talati kare te that”(The Collector shouts, the Mamlatdar worries, the Circle Officer feels helpless but whatever the Talati decides, that is what happens.)
After the school headmaster, the Talati commanded the highest respect in the village. He was well taken care of by the villagers — food, grain, and even ghee were arranged for him.
The Sarpanch’s main duty was essentially to keep the Talati happy. The elected Sarpanch often considered it an honour just to carry those bundles of documents, and the Police Patel would work almost as the Talati’s attendant.
Each Talati was usually in charge of more than one village, and no one ever really knew in which village he would be on a given day.
When the lock on the Panchayat office was found open, or word spread that the Talati had arrived at the Sarpanch’s house or the village square, people needing him would drop whatever they were doing — whether at home or in the fields — and rush to meet him.
If the Talati was willing, only then would a farmer get a copy of the 7/12 land extract (record of rights). And without that, even banks would hesitate to grant loans.
If he approved, mutation entries for inheritance or sale would be recorded; if not, they would stall indefinitely.
Births and deaths were registered only if he chose to act. Even something as simple as getting a ration card split depended on his approval.
Every ten years, when the 7/12 records were rewritten, the Talati alone knew when he might quietly change a land’s title from “new tenure” to “old tenure,” or remove a restriction under Section 43, or erase a record under Section 73AA, or adjust land boundaries in the Vada Patrak (village map).
Officers would discover such changes only if someone happened to check an Appendix-A entry in detail - otherwise, they came to light only during RTS (Record of Rights) appeals, where whatever pages the Talati produced were accepted as truth.
Now, of course, everything is digitized.
But when the e-Dhara system was first introduced, people joked that the fingerprints of Deputy Mamlatdars accomplished in forty months what the Talatis hadn’t managed in forty years - changes would appear “at the speed of electricity.”
Learning from the Talati
The Talati of the village near Godhra where I trained was an experienced man.
He explained the revenue records to me in meticulous detail and also taught me how to detect irregularities in them.
He showed me how to cross-verify information on the 7/12 extract with entries in the Form No. 6 register, how to interpret Kayam Khardo Form 1, the DILR summary sheets, and the tenancy restrictions.
At that time, the same person handled both revenue and panchayat duties, so he also gave me a good understanding of Panchayati Raj administration and the associated record-keeping.
All of that later proved invaluable to me in my roles as Prant Officer, District Development Officer, Collector, and in various assignments in the Revenue Department.
Resident Deputy Collector (RDC)
In a Collector’s office, the Resident Deputy Collector (RDC) holds an extremely important position.
Everyone feels a certain hesitation in approaching the Collector — those who do must wait patiently, speak briefly and politely when their turn comes, and then leave quickly.
As a result, meeting the Collector feels like a formal and weighty affair. But the atmosphere in the RDC’s chamber is entirely different people feel at ease there.
Members of the Legislative Assembly and Parliament usually preferred to deal directly with the RDC.
Since the Revenue Branch, its Chitnis, and the Deputy Mamlatdars all functioned under the RDC’s control, even the Collector sometimes had to make requests through him to get certain things done.
During my posting in Panchmahals, Mr. Dilipbhai Dharaiya first served as RDC, followed by Mr. Kanubhai Patel.
At that time, the power to convert new tenure land into old tenure rested with the Prant Officer, delegated by the Collector.
Similarly, permissions under Section 73AA concerning the sale of tribal land from one tribal to another were also delegated.
When I was away at Phase-II training in Mussoorie, something happened back in Panchmahals: either because Prant Officer Bhagubhai Chaudhary’s transfer was imminent, or because of some complaint, or perhaps due to some suggestion or motive (good or bad) from the RDC or the Collector the Prant Officer’s delegated revenue powers were withdrawn. This diminished the importance of the Prant Office.
Meanwhile, the Collector, for personal reasons, began to distance himself from democratic interaction, and as that happened, the RDC’s influence grew stronger and Panchmahals became his domain.
Even in those days, cases related to conversion of new tenure to old tenure, non-agricultural permissions, and Section 73AA transactions were just as complicated and controversial as they are today. The only difference was that back then bribes were cheaper, and now everything has become expensive.
The Supply Department held great significance then, being a regulatory wing. There were frequent complaints that the ration-shop wheat, which Adivasis (tribals) generally didn’t consume, was being diverted to flour mills.
And as the saying went — “the more complaints, the greater the profit.”
Cases of land grabbing and black-market transactions were often in discussion.
The Land Reforms Office formed a third important branch most cases under the Tenancy Act (Ganot Dhara) were already settled, but a few remnants would keep cropping up.
Evacuee properties were no longer many, so that subject rarely appeared.
Meanwhile, Mid-day Meal schemes and bills for their spices and cooking oil had begun to attract public attention.
After Coordination and Drought Relief, the district and taluka planning meetings ranked as the third most important function.
The introduction of discretionary and incentive grants through District Planning Board helped extend the spirit of democracy all the way down to the village level.
District Coordination Committee
At the Collector’s office, the District Coordination Committee meeting, held on every third Saturday, felt like a mini assembly.
Senior legislators like Shantibhai Patel, Prabhatsinh Chauhan, Abdul Rahim Khalpa, Virji Munia, Hargovind Upadhyay, Prabodh Pandya, Udesinh Bariya, Jashwantsinh Parmar, Raman Patel, Lalitkumar Patel, Ditabhai Machhar, and Badiyabhai Gondiya were all prominent participants.
Officers had to prepare thoroughly before facing such experienced and outspoken political leaders.
When the meeting finally ended, it brought a palpable sense of relief.
At that time, the President of the District Panchayat, Kishorbhai Bhulabhai Patel, was a simple and straightforward man. His successor, Dr. Kishor Taviad, was equally gentle and well-meaning.
Besides the District Coordination Committee, other key meetings included the District Planning Board, chaired by the Minister in charge, and, during drought years, the District Scarcity Relief Committee.
These meetings provided a comprehensive picture of the entire district its people, priorities, and pressing problems.
It was the era of hand pumps, the main topic of discussion was always how many new ones had been installed, and how many had failed.
Those that broke down and were never repaired forced villagers to run after water tankers, while contractors benefited by making repeated rounds for repairs.
Election of the Taluka Panchayat President
During my training at Godhra, I faced my first political test.
As the in-charge Prant Officer, I was appointed Election Officer for the Godhra Taluka Panchayat President election.
No party had a clear majority.
The local MLA an active and outspoken Mr. Abdul Rahim Khalpa wanted me to postpone the election, using procedural disturbance as an excuse.
But I conducted the election with discipline and composure, following the rules strictly.
Eventually, independent member Mr. C.K. Raulji was elected President of the Taluka Panchayat, Godhra, by a majority of one vote.
That day, I learned my first real lesson in maintaining neutrality amid political pressure.
Officers’ Club
The Officers’ Club at Godhra was semi active. If we go it opened and not it remained closed.
It was looked after by a watchman named Kalubhai, who kept everything in order.
Whenever we broke a shuttlecock during play, he immediately brought out a new one.
Every evening, the club would come alive — with Dr. R.K. Patel and his wife, RTO Shah, Civil Surgeon Dr. Damor, Dr. R.M. Makwana (Mehta) and his wife Shashi, Raulji of the former Godhra princely family and his daughter — five to seven of us would always gather.
Sometimes even the Collector or the District Development Officer joined in.
I used to enjoy the short walk from the Circuit House to the Club, dressed in white shorts and a T-shirt, twirling my badminton racket in hand. Whether or not I actually knew how to play badminton was beside the point!
The club also had a billiards table — both badminton and billiards were games I had first seen and learned at Mussoorie Academy, though I was far from an expert at either.
The Collector
To us, the Collector was like a royal figure - our Raja Saheb.
He was handsome, unmarried, and carried himself with a distinct, self-assured style, always with a paan (betel leaf) with tobacco tucked in his mouth.
He spoke softly and sparingly, never raised his voice, and never lost his temper. Yet, the expression in his eyes and the aura of his presence were enough to make anyone before him tremble slightly.
His residence was adjacent to the Collector’s office, so he came in as and when convenient — meeting visitors, conducting meetings, and then leaving.
His table was always spotless, with not a single file on it, because he handled all the paperwork from his residence.
My training schedule ran according to plan, and I attended almost every important meeting in the Collector’s office.
During my attachment period with him, I would sit on the chair to his right, beside his table in the chamber.
My role was simply to observe - how the Collector met people, heard their representations, gave replies, conducted appeal hearings, and chaired meetings in the conference hall - and then quietly leave the office.
He was reserved and introverted, never spoke ill of anyone.
Yet, he neither offered me any training guidance, nor invited me for meals, nor ever inquired about my comfort or convenience.
Still, I knew that the way the RDC and others ran around to assist me must have been on his instructions.
When new flats were constructed in Godhra, he immediately had my name included in the District Housing Allotment Committee agenda, and ensured that one flat was sanctioned to me.
Soon, my family joined me there.
He revealed very little about his personal life.
In one or two rare, informal conversations, I came to know that in his youth he had been an excellent football and basketball player, even a state champion.
Beyond that, he asked me nothing, and due to professional decorum, I too couldn’t speak freely.
He was introverted, while I was extroverted, and thus, between us, there always remained an unspoken wall of distance that we both silently acknowledged.
People often gossiped about him — the usual hearsay and rumors.
In truth, he was innocent at heart, perhaps even too trusting, to the point that it was said some subordinates took advantage of his simplicity — getting his signatures for their own benefit.
My association with him lasted through my training year and then another six to seven months, when I worked as Prant Officer at Dahod.
A Couple of Incidents from That Period
A couple of incidents from that period are worth recording.
1) Meeting of a District Scarcity Relief Committee
At that time, the region faced three consecutive years of drought.
While the District Development Officer (DDO) and the Taluka Development Officers (TDOs) handled the operational and administrative aspects of relief works, the overall direction and control of the entire drought management system rested with the Collector.
Hence, the District Scarcity Relief Committee, chaired by the Collector, reviewed not only the progress of relief works but also issues such as drinking water supply, cattle camps, labour payments, on-site arrangements for labourers, and law and order.
The committee included heads of all key district departments, along with the Members of Parliament and Legislative Assembly, which made these meetings high-voltage affairs.
Panchmahals district stood out among the top in the state, providing employment to nearly two lakh labourers through drought relief works.
With such a large-scale operation, small complaints were inevitable — yet the overall administration and its managers performed remarkably well.
Everyone earned credit and appreciation.
At the state level, the Relief Commissioner was responsible for monitoring, issuing instructions, and controlling the overall drought relief activities.
The Relief Manual served as their key instrument of authority.
Once, during a District Scarcity Relief Committee (DSRC) meeting, the then Relief Commissioner, Smt. Swarnlata Verma, attended.
As a matter of protocol of seniority, it was natural that she should occupy the Chairperson’s seat during the meeting.
However, for reasons unknown — perhaps due to some personal dynamics between her and our Collector — a local MLA proposed that Collector being a chairman of DSRC, must remain in the chair.
As a result, the seats were exchanged mid-meeting: the Collector took the central chair, while the Relief Commissioner sat to his side.
Those who knew that Smt. Verma had once served as Collector of Panchmahals, remembered for her firm handling of the Godhra curfew, sensed an awkward tension in the room that day.
The meeting, otherwise procedural, left behind a faint aftertaste of discomfort for all who witnessed it.
2) Collector’s Conference chairs by the Prime Minister
The Collector, being young, unmarried, and striking in appearance, had become quite the center of attention during his tenure in Panchmahals.
In his early forties, some well-wishers arranged a match from Vadodara, and he got married. But the marriage soon soured, more discord than harmony, and constant quarrels followed.
Their domestic life lasted barely four to six months. One morning, his wife left him, boarding a bus at Godhra bus station and returning to her parents’ home in Vadodara.
In the days that followed, mental strain and loneliness consumed him. His dependence on intoxicants deepened.
Whether flag hoisting ceremonies or the attendance of office — his public composure began to waver.
And then, in a tragic moment during that period of depression, the pistol he possessed brought his career and life as he knew it to a devastating end.
In the winter of 1988, a Collectors’ Conference was held at the National Institute of Rural Development (NIRD), Hyderabad, under the chairmanship of Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi, as part of the Administrative Reforms Programme.
At that time, our Collector was struggling — his regal lifestyle and marital discord had perhaps pushed him into depression.
In that frame of mind, for reasons known only to him, he applied and got a firearm licence. A small pistol was arranged for him by Maheshbhai, an arms dealer from Dahod, my sub division.
Barely a month or two after acquiring the pistol, came the Hyderabad conference.
The Collector, carrying the weapon, attended the event. During security screening, the pistol was discovered.
He argued that he possessed a valid licence, but the matter quickly escalated. An inquiry was ordered from Delhi, and he was suspended from duty for a time.
Later, the Chief Minister of Gujarat who’s was ST, intervened and closed the case compassionately. However, that incident marked the sunset of his career.
Afterwards, he lived almost in obscurity, consumed by addiction and isolation.
A man of remarkable charm and presence, his life ended tragically and prematurely — a truly heart-rending conclusion to a once-bright journey.
New Collector
On 21 March 1988, I received a new Collector Mr. Tapan Ray.
He was self-reliant, disciplined, and a man of simple habits, doing his own work without dependence on others.
Upon taking residence at the Collector’s Bungalow, he invited the DSP, DDO, and me for a meal.
That was the first time I saw the Collector’s residence from the inside.
On that day, Tapan Ray Saheb, with his own hands, prepared a welcome drink, a refreshing sherbet made from raw mangoes plucked from the bungalow’s garden.
Its taste was pure nectar.
Phase–2 Training
After completing nearly a year of field training, I joined the Phase–2 training.
Our project work presentations began soon after.
One group was given the opportunity to study the Chipko Movement in Chamoli district, and I was fortunate to be a part of it.
There we met Chandi Prasad Bhatt, who led the movement with the help of village women.
For him, the true meaning of development began and ended with water, forest, and land. He had instilled deep confidence and self-worth in rural women, empowering them profoundly.
The hills of the Himalayas echoed with their resounding slogan:
“Van jaage, vanvasi jaage; Daaluka Dagadiya amar rahe!” (When the forests awaken, the forest-dwellers awaken; the protectors of forest shall remain immortal!)
When the Phase–2 training concluded, I returned to Gujarat.
The Government appointed me as Assistant Collector and Sub-Divisional Magistrate, Dahod.
Thus began my 35-year-long journey; a journey of public service, guided by authority, discipline, and purpose.
22 September 2025
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