LBSNAA Training (1985-86) (14)

14. LBSNAA Training (1985-86)

It was August 1985, time for me to leave for Mussoorie.

At home, there was more worry than joy. Some didn’t even know what this new chapter meant, while my parents were saddened at the thought of their son going so far away. My mother said, “Now I’ve lost both, my son and his salary too!”

The entire family, along with relatives and friends, came to see me off at the railway station Ahmedabad.

For the journey, I had bought a new bag, packed with two sets of clothes, a bed sheet , a sweater, and a yellow tie gifted to me by my American friend. My father, with affection, gave me a woollen Raymond shawl to keep me warm in the hills.

My sleeper class railway ticket to Delhi had been confirmed under the government quota, and I had a few rupees left from my last salary in my pocket.

Arrival at the Academy

From Delhi, I took a bus to Dehradun, and from there, a car in sharing to Mussoorie. At the Dehradun bus stand, there was an academy coordination counter to assist new probationers.

One by one, probationers arrived, their luggage loaded into cars, and they set off; some alone, others in pairs toward the academy.

As I watched the scene with curiosity, my eyes suddenly fixed on a female probationer with bob-cut hair and a bright, confident smile showing slightly protruding teeth. Just then, a car became available, and I joined a few others heading to the Academy.

After thirty-six hours of travel, I finally arrived, registered, and was allotted a room in Narmada Hostel. Only after lying down on the bed did my breathing finally settle — the long journey had ended.

The Legacy of the Academy

During India’s independence movement, there was loud opinions that the Indian Civil Service (ICS) a symbol of British rule should be abolished. While the central services continued as before, discussions took place about reorganizing the state administrative structures. Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, the DyPM and Home Minister of India stayed in favour as he found the service was essential for maintaining the unity of the nation. He retained its core spirit, but transformed it into a new service called the Indian Administrative Service (IAS).

Initially, IAS training was held at two separate institutions: the IAS Training School (Delhi) and the IAS Staff College (Shimla). In 1958, these were merged to form a single institution: the National Academy of Administration (NAA). The government purchased the lively Charleville Hotel in Mussoorie, and in 1959, the first batch was transferred from Delhi to this new campus. Later, in 1972, in memory of India’s former Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri, the academy was renamed the Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration (LBSNAA) by the Govt of India lead by then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. 

In 1984, I had missed the opportunity to attend the Foundation Course as an IRS officer, but a year later, destiny offered me a second chance — this time as an IAS officer.

However, the year before my arrival, in May 1984, a fire had destroyed much of the academy’s rich library, mess, and Director’s residence. So, during our batch, the mess was temporarily operated from a converted badminton hall.

Our hostel blocks were named Happy Valley, Ganga, Yamuna, Narmada, and so on. I was allotted a room in Narmada Hostel, where my roommate was Mohanty, an officer from the Indian Economic Service. He was so considerate that if he ever had beer with friends, he wouldn’t come back to the room that night. That was his way of respecting my teetotaler nature.

Nearby were Gopal and Lingam Venkat Reddy from Andhra Pradesh. The rooms of hostels were full with probationers forming a miniature India ans officers from every state of the country were around us. In total, there were around 486 probationers — from the IAS, IPS, IFS, and various Central Services.

The First Day of IAS Training

26 August 1985. Our very first day of IAS training began with an inaugural ceremony in the Sardar Patel Hall of the Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration. Our Course Director was IPS officer Mr. Mohan, and the Director of the Academy was Mr. R.N. Chopra. The Director rarely appeared except on special occasions.  The course and day-to-day functioning was handled by Mr. Mohan.

In the beginning, we were introduced to the Academy, its rules, and the outline of the Foundation Course.

By afternoon, the classroom dynamics had already taken shape; the ones who asked questions had become familiar faces. Names might slip your mind, but faces were quickly recognizable. Shiva (Shivshailam) was one of them!

Then our formal learning began. We were taught by many distinguished faculty members — Mr. Mohan, Mr. Keshav Desiraju, Mr. Julius Sen, Mr. Parthasarthy, Dada Benerji, Mr. Muthuswami, Mr. Srivastava, Mr. Kothiyal, Sardarji, and others; each with their own style of teaching administration.

But two stood out in memory:

Dada Benerji, whose lessons on law keeping human in the centre while interpretation of law. Muthuswami, who taught Public Administration so passionately that his words  and sometimes his spit filled the air but lessons very useful. When he explained the famous “Carrot and Stick” policy, I couldn’t help but laugh — after all, I had never actually seen a donkey eating a carrot before.

The Colours of the Foundation Course

In the Foundation Course (FC), along with IAS, IPS, and IFS probationers, there were officers from other Central Services as well. This created strong friendships across services. 

Where there is youth, how can the breeze of romance be stopped?

Our batch topper, the calm and serious Dr. Prabhat Kumar, was the first to win hearts. He was soon drawn to the soft-spoken Himalayan girl, Himalini Kashyap. 

After that, even some married officers began rediscovering their “bachelor selves”! On the trekking expeditions, some even turned up in suits and ties. The tall were searching tall companions; the short searching comfort with the short. While the drinkers searching a tolerant female partner. 

Occasionally, relatives of the probationers would arrive with bride or groom from outside the Academy just to help them to make up the march. 

A Gujarati probationer of central services from Mumbai showed interest in me but when she learned I was already married, she gracefully backed off.

However, the faculty at LBSNAA kept us all so engaged and disciplined that gradually, everyone’s focus shifted from flirtation to administration.

Gradually, everyone began to settle into the rhythm of the training and daily routine of the academy. But when the weekend arrived, Friday evenings and Saturday evenings were marked with fun and shout around. One such evening, when the glass windows of the Narmada Hostel shattered, I realized that crows are black everywhere. For me, who was still under the reflective spell of Gandhi’s writings that moment was a rude awakening.

Every evening, the taste of food in our mess became a favorite topic of discussion. One could tell from the expressions of people walking out whether the food had been good or not! Smiling faces meant praise for the mess committee, but if the taste went off even slightly, a barrage of complaints would follow.

Mussoorie is a beautiful hill station developed by the British in Himalayas. The majestic Himalayan mountains, laughing valleys, cool air, and the new Academy life with new fellow probationers were like heaven for me who has come from an urban slums. 

Our days began with PT or yoga, followed by breakfast, classroom sessions, lunch, afternoon lectures, a visit to the locker room or library point, a stroll along Mall Road, dinner, and finally, deep sleep.

On Mall Road, I often went with Gopal Joshi and Kanti Patadiya during the FC. Since Gopal was tall and I was short, we attracted quite a bit of attention. I had to look up to talk to him, and he had to look down to reply! Sometimes, I went with Badri Narayan Sharma, Sangram Mishra and Sita Ram Meena; other times with Pradeep Baviskar and Vishwanath Sengavkar. The walk continued in Phase-1 and 2. 

I got along best with the Rajasthan, Maharashtra, and Odisha groups, and soon began enjoying their folk songs. I still remember the Odia and Marathi melodies we sang together; “ rangabati rangabati kanaklata hasi pade kaha lo katha”; and “aaj unhat chandana padle ga” respectively. 

In someone’s room, if Ram Niwas’s singing sessions began, the evening turned magical.

His humorous bhajans “Shivshankar sada bhai rahte the Gangaji mein dang, isiliye to roz ghont ke peete the vo bhang, nahi to thahara pite” would lift everyone’s spirits.

And when he sang, “Gaadi ko chalana babu zara halke halke halke, kahin dil ka jaam na chalke,” it became the anthem of our batch.

The official Academy Song

“Hao dharmate dheer, hao karmete veer,

hao unmatt shir, nahi bhay;

bhuli bheda-bhed gyaan, hao sabe aaguan,

sathe ache Bhagwaan, hobe joy!”

was our guiding light — a call to remain steady and fearless in adversity. It instilled in us the strength to do whatever it took to uphold India’s unity and integrity.

Getting up early in Mussoorie’s freezing mornings was the hardest thing. Shantilal, our room aid, knew this too well. Since we didn’t want to get up to open the door, we would leave it unlocked overnight. He would gently knock two or three times, place the tea inside, and call out, “Sahebji, chai aa gayi!” Sometimes, I would just stretch my hand out of the blanket and grab the steaming cup of tea without leaving the bed.

Instead of following PT instructor Rana’s exhausting drill, some of us joined the yoga sessions, just to steal an extra half-hour of sleep! That was my first experience with full yoga as at school, we had never gone beyond the Surya Namaskar. A monk from Rishikesh’s Sivananda Ashram came to teach us yoga, and later, in Phases I and II, Mr. Bisht from the Academy took over.

It was at LBSNAA that I first saw and learned to play badminton, tennis, and billiards. Tennis didn’t suit me much, but I got quite good at badminton and billiards, which I played just enough to relax.

Mussoorie’s water was heavy, and drinking too much would leave your stomach bloated. There were filters in the hostel lobby, and we would fill bottles as needed; but on the days the filters broke down, our stomachs suffered the consequences!

Bathing was a daily struggle too. When the geyser stopped working, hardly anyone dared to bathe in that icy water. The geysers were tiny just enough for a quick rinse. Yet, despite the cold, the Mussoorie water and Pear’s soap worked wonders- my complexion had never looked brighter!

It was freezing cold inside the room. They had given us a small room heater, but it was hardly any protection against Mussoorie’s biting chill.

The room had two single beds for the two probationers, one mattress each. We had to bring our own bedsheet and pillow, and were given a single blanket to cover ourselves. I used to sleep wrapped inside that blanket, with the Raymond woolen shawl my father had given me tucked inside for extra warmth.

Today, of course, the new generation of trainees enjoys five-star facilities; quite a contrast to our days!

Horse Riding

When I went to learn horse riding, on the third day I developed a severe pain in my lower back. The academy’s doctor advised me to get an X-ray done, so I went to Mall Road and had one taken.

It was then that I learned the L-5 and S-1 vertebrae on the left side of my spine were fused together. Because of this, whenever the horse moved, pressure built up at that point, causing pain. I gave up horse riding and turned my attention to yoga instead.

That defect was probably congenital, or perhaps the result of the injury I had suffered as a nine-year-old while playing kabaddi. I never galloped a horse again — but for the rest of my life, I kept riding in cars.

The American Yellow Tie

There were strict rules for everything — what to wear, how to live, when to speak. To look formal, I went to Sadik, the tailor, and got myself a bandhgala suit stitched.

One of our batchmates, a fair and hefty probationer, was never seen without a three-piece suit! One day, after seeing several of my colleagues dressed smartly in ties, I thought to myself, “Let’s wear that American yellow tie today!”

It was a broad, thick American-style tie; my neck was small and I was slender. After some struggle, I tied a double knot, but it turned out so huge that my neck practically disappeared inside it! The yellow tie knot stood out on my chest like a king in command.

That morning, our first class was in Counsellor Mr. Kothiyal’s room. There was a probationer named Sujata, who kept laughing continuously. I looked at her, then at my tie, and wondered,

“Is she laughing at the sight of this enormous tie dangling from my tiny neck?” As soon as the break came, I rushed to my room, took off the tie, and threw it into my bag. For the rest of the Foundation Course, I never touched that yellow tie again.

Cadre Allotment

Our official appointment to the IAS was effective from 26 August 1985, the date we joined training at Mussoorie. Everyone was eagerly waiting for their cadre allotment. When we filled out the UPSC form, those who were not expected to get an “insider” post had to choose their preferred zone, and so, everyone was busy speculating about which state they might get.

Around that time, on 21 September 1985, P. Chidambaram took charge as the Minister of State for Personnel. His decisions dramatically changed the fortunes of many in our batch. He introduced a new formula for cadre allotment arguing that every state should receive candidates of good merit. Under this, the existing zone preference system was abolished.

Once insider quotas were filled, the remaining candidates were arranged in order of merit on one side, and the list of states alphabetically (A, B, C, D…) on the other — each officer being assigned sequentially in that order.

When the cadre allotment list was finally released on 12 October 1985, it created a wave of discontent. Many officers who felt unfairly treated made representations, but all were in vain. For several of them, the joy of becoming an IAS officer turned bitter.

One of them was Lingam Venkat Reddy, ranked 33rd in merit, my batchmate, neighbor at Narmada Hostel in Mussoorie, and a close friend. He was allotted the Nagaland cadre. Years later, in 1995, while serving as Deputy Commissioner (Collector) of Kohima, he was about to leave his official residence to resume new office, seated in his car parked at the porch, when militants attacked and killed him.

It was one of the most tragic outcomes of that cadre allotment reshuffle.

Trekking and Tapovan

As part of the Academy’s physical training, we were sent on trekking expeditions.

The physically fit trainees were sent on difficult treks, while people like me were assigned to a moderate one — similar to a Char Dham yatra. I was selected for the Yamunotri–Gangotri trek.

At the Academy, we had been so warned about the cold that on the first night, I zipped up my sleeping bag tightly, feeling as though the whole world was locked inside with me.

On the way to Yamunotri, from Janki Chatti, we walked with wooden sticks in hand, each step bringing new excitement.

When songs from Ram Teri Ganga Maili “husna pahado ka kya kahana ke baro mahine yanha mausam jhado ka” echoed through the mountains, it truly felt as if the bells of beauty in the hills were ringing in our hearts.

The path from Gangotri to Gomukh was so cold that even our breath turned into mist. There, a sadhu offered us hot tea made from powdered milk, its taste I remember even today.

Some of my companions went further to Tapovan, but I stopped at Gomukh, quietly watching the source of the River Ganga. A deep, spiritual silence and peace enveloped me with the flow of water, an experience that has stayed with me ever since.

Mother’s Illness and the Boss’s Lesson

The Foundation Course was a joyful experience, yet one incident has remained etched in my memory forever.

My mother had long suffered from a lung disease. About a month after I arrived in Mussoorie, I received a telegram from home: “Mother is very ill. Come immediately.”

I immediately took a leave application to the Course Director, Mr. Mohan. He initially said,“Leave cannot be granted,” but after much request, he verbally agreed.

Without delay, I caught a bus from Mussoorie to Dehradun, then onward to Delhi. There were no train reservations available, so I traveled in the general coach, standing and sitting between two exit doors all night, and reached Ahmedabad the next day.

I met my mother, visited my village, saw Laxmi and the children, and then returned reaching the Academy late Sunday night, October 5.

A few days later, I received a notice: “You were absent without prior approval — dies non (no work, no pay).”

I went to Mr. Mohan and explained that he had granted leave verbally, but he denied it.

Later, he called me in and said, “You write that you assumed leave was granted based on my facial expression.”

He was my boss — how could I refuse? I wrote it down.

A week later, the dies non order was issued.

That day, my trust in Mr. Mohan broke.

Months later, my batchmate Pushpa Thampi unexpectedly placed my original leave application in front of me. She had found it in Mr. Mohan’s room, mixed up with his papers.

Only then did I realize — my application had been misplaced, and he had forgotten his verbal consent.

Later, Gopalaswamy, the Revenue Secretary of Gujarat, reviewed the matter and converted those five days into leave without pay, thus closing the case.

But the incident taught me a lifelong lesson: Whether it’s your boss or the court, no matter who tells you otherwise — always record the truth in writing.

Rural Experience: Rathonda

During Phase I, we were divided into small groups and sent for a village visit for a week. I was assigned to Rathonda village in Rampur district, Uttar Pradesh.

At that time, the power of village Patwari system was still active — and so were the village strongmen (lathaits).

I witnessed firsthand the inequalities of rural life. The lower castes were treated as untouchables, yet the village elite couldn’t hide their lustful glances toward a beautiful girl from that very community.

It was my first real exposure to the harsh realities of India’s rural society — a world of deep contradictions, where social hierarchies and human desires lived side by side.

General Sundarji

During the Foundation Course, the Chief of the Indian Army, Sundarji, had come. He delivered a very inspiring address. In an essay competition organized by him, an IPS officer from Rajasthan, Sanga Rana, wrote his essay in Hindi and won the prize for the best essay. He proved that understanding is greater than language.

Phase-I Training

In December 1985, our Foundation Course came to an end. When the results were announced, our colleague Shashi Shekhar Sharma was declared the Best Probationer — a moment of pride for our entire batch.

After the ceremony, officers of the IPS, IFS, and various Central Services departed for their respective training academies, while we, the IAS probationers, stayed back in Mussoorie for Phase-I training.

Bharat Darshan

Phase-I started with Bharat Darshan, a study tour of the country. Groups were formed based on the probationers’ preferences, considering less opportunity to visit South India in future, I chose the Southern Group.

During the journey, we visited several public enterprises, government units, and industrial establishments, while also enjoying the natural beauty of India’s landscapes.

A night halt in Bhamni village near Chhindwara in Madhya Pradesh gave us a firsthand look at the poverty and simplicity of tribal life, awakening a deep social awareness within us.

In Madurai, we visited the grand Meenakshi Temple, but what stayed with me longer was the Gandhi Seva Sangam. It is a Gandhian institution that revered humanity itself as a temple.

At Kanyakumari and Kovalam, the rhythmic ocean waves brought a profound sense of peace. One evening at Kanyakumari’s Triveni Sangam, where the Bay of Bengal, Indian Ocean, and Arabian Sea meet, I witnessed a sight forever engraved in my memory — the full moon rising in the east while the sun set in the west, the waters below shimmering in three colors — blue, green, and grey. It felt as if Nature herself was waving the tricolor. Standing before the Vivekananda Rock Memorial, I was deeply moved by Swami Vivekananda’s vision and his reverence for his guru, Ramakrishna Paramahamsa.

And how could I forget the majestic elephants of the Periyar Sanctuary, a sight impossible to erase from memory.

Delhi — Meeting Leaders

After completing Bharat Darshan, we reached Delhi. At Rashtrapati Bhavan, we met President Giani Zail Singh and posed for photographs.

Later, at 7 Race Course Road, we met Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi — his youthful energy and inspiring words left a lasting impression on us.

During our visit to the Parliament House, senior officials of the parliament explained the intricacies of parliamentary procedures.

At the closing ceremony, Opposition Leader L.K. Advani graced the occasion. I had the honor of delivering the Vote of Thanks — but as fate would have it, the microphone didn’t work! So my “I take this opportunity…” was heard only by those sitting next to me.My friend Ravikant, who sat behind, later said with a grin, “Your speech may not have been heard, but the language was excellent!”

Phase-I: Classroom Learning

Then began the classroom phase again — sessions in the Sardar Patel Hall, counsellor meetings, and tutorial discussions. By now, we all knew each other well, and the training had taken on a lighter, more collegial tone.

We were learning new things, but with a clearer purpose; “Development through Unity.”

Our mentors were Madam Anita Das and her husband Mr. Das, both IAS officers. Their sincerity and warmth deeply touched us. From them, we learned that an IAS officer is not merely an administrator, but a blend of service and sensitivity to social justice.

The guest speakers were remarkable too.

Bindeshwar Pathak, founder of Sulabh Shauchalay, and Gujarat’s own “Toilet Man” Ishwarbhai Patel, reminded us that, “A temple and a toilet are equally sacred — one purifies the mind, the other the body.”

Dr. B.D. Sharma, speaking in his simple dhoti-kurta, shared his experiences as Collector of Bastar — appearing more like a social reformer than an officer.

Those interactions shaped our understanding of what it truly means to serve the nation with humility, courage, and compassion.

Phase-I: Memories, Lessons, and the Spirit of Service

During Phase-I, probationers from the 1985 batch of the Indian Forest Service (IFS) joined us. Around that time, the Vice-President of India, Shri R. Venkataraman, visited the Academy. In the cultural program we presented before him, we performed a Gujarati dandia-garba — “Maro Sonano Ghadulo Re, Aa Panida Chhalke Che” (My golden pot, the water overflows).

I had brought the cassette of the song, and Bharat Pathak (IFS) directed the performance. Five men and five women danced the dandiya raas — and we barely managed to avoid hitting each other on the forehead with our dandiyas!

Haridwar Kumbh Mela — A Lesson in Administration

That same year (1986), the Kumbh Mela was held in Haridwar. The Academy sent us there to study its organization and management. It was an unforgettable experience witnessing millions of pilgrims, yet everything moving with astonishing order. Their Travel, food, accommodation, bathing, sanitation all so well-coordinated that I realized: “A government officer’s role isn’t limited to an office. It is to bring order and comforts into people’s lives.”

But a few days after our visit, during a VIP event, chaos erupted in the crowd. More than 200 pilgrims lost their lives, and many were injured. That tragedy taught us a sobering truth: Administration is not just about celebrating success; every decision carries the weight of human lives.

The End of Phase-I

Amidst friendship, laughter, and profound learning, our Phase-I training finally came to an end. We were now ready to move to our respective state cadres for field training.

The days in Mussoorie were behind us, but the values we learned there - humanity, discipline, and service stayed etched in our hearts forever.

21 October 2025