RCT's musings

  My first memory of Aneesha is an email I received from her a month before we were to depart for Oxford. It was a group mail asking for mugshot and brief profile which could be shared with the group. I responded. Much to my surprise, I quickly received a follow up mail asking me about what I had studied at St Stephens’ – the same college she had been to although a good 6-7 years before me. I attributed this special interest to the common alma mater we shared. It was only later in Oxford I realised that that was not the case. She took a keen interest to know each and every one of us in the cohort and outside – by investing a bit of time – little by little with everyone. It was this particular characteristic which made her like the common binding glue – cutting across personalities, and glossing over the laughable differences we often sparred over every now and then. We were meant to be on the same train to Oxford but couldn’t spot each other. It was only at the entrance of Pembro...

I turned 36 a few days back. 36 is an interesting number. A perfect square. I started thinking where I was during my other perfect square birthdays – 25, 16, 9, 4, 1. I thought about other perfect square numbers I would encounter (a big assumption here) at 49, 64, 81. I don’t want to be even writing 100. After reflecting for a while I realized that each of these numbers had been significant for me. My 4 th birthday is first one I remember. At nine I wrote my first competitive exam and went to boarding school. The first really serious conversation I had with my parents was at 16. I joined the IAS at 25 and now at 36 I feel the urge to do something – something different to what I have been doing in the last few years. My father called me up in the morning to wish me. I couldn’t help but recalling when he was 36 and I was six. Today my son is 6. The years have gone by like the pages of a book. You look at how much you have left to read and stretch yourself out on your couch. Then,...

Where are our heroes? (A reflection by Rohan Chand Thakur) In an article titled “Where are their heroes?” (Tribune, 10 th December), Colonel PS Randhawa raised an interesting point about why unlike the army, the bureaucracy (the IAS mainly) does not talk about its heroes. He contrasts his visits to LBSNAA, the National training centre of IAS officers with that to the IMA, the Indian Military Academy in Dehradun. Post this he says there are quite a few career bureaucrats who are potential role models or heroes but yet, why is it that they are “not looked up to or known as heroes”? This question was deeply thought provoking for me. To begin, we need to understand that every act of heroism requires sacrifice. Sacrifice of something that is dear to the individual but has to be given up for the mission/ job at hand for the larger public good. Acts of sacrifice are of different types. At the apex are those acts which involve sacrifice of life. So selfless and pure is this act...

The Pulwama suicide attack which took the lives of 40 of our brave hearts of the CRPF has the entire nation in deep mourning. Not only is there great sadness about the loss of lives but also a great sense of anger. How we channel this mass public anger is very important since rash actions could further exacerbate the situation.  On deeper reflection slowly a feeling of déjà vu started taking over. Feelings which I had not felt for some time came back to me. We have experienced such pain before. This piece is an attempt to capture the feelings one has had at major points of India’s battle with terror. I have also tried to capture my own experiences and observations of the harsh realities faced by soldiers at work and at home. That is, when there is no Pulwama, no air strikes and when the hungry media is chewing some other story to feed its evil, insatiable hunger.     One of the first things of relevance I knew about my family what that my grandfather, Col...