Clean man, clean exit

I came to the Punjab cadre of the IAS in 1959 after a year of training at Delhi. I was going by bus one day from Ludhiana to Chandigarh, when I learnt that two of my seniors were camping in the Samrala rest house. I got off the bus and went to meet them. The IAS then was a close-knit family of Indians from all corners of the country, imbued with a sense of mission and service. In the old British rest house, I found PH Vaishnav and SK Mishra, one from Kathiawar and the other from UP.

We met like long-lost brothers, and took an instant liking to each other. This lasted a lifetime. PH is no more but Chappie Mishra, Principal Secretary to the Haryana Chief Minister, Principal Secretary to the Prime Minister, and the current Chairman of INTACH, is a close friend in Delhi.

We were in the first flush of Independence, and Nehru was in full flow, transforming India. All of us, each in his own place, and each in his own way, worked hard for Nehru’s dreams. Living was austere. I remember PH, Chappie, Ramesh Kapila and all our seniors leading simple lives. PH then, and all through life, lived sadhu-like. His household was of the very simplest; his luxury, endless cups of tea, over which he argued, in a stentorian voice, of policies, men and matters of national and state concerns. A Delhi School economist, with a strong social sense for the less deprived, PH was ever ready for an argument, not just with us, but with others, even those in high authority over him.

The young men then spoke up without hesitation and fear, no matter what the cost—something I am not sure exists today. Postings were taken as given. Kairon had a strong belief that young men like us must start from the desert areas of what is now Haryana, or in the remote Himalayan valleys, of what is now Himachal Pradesh. In his first posting, PH was made the SDM, guardian of the remote Mahendargarh. No bijli, no paani. He got water from Mathadin’s tubewell, near the railway station. It did not bother him, and he wandered about those sandy villages on broken-down buses or camels.

In 1960, Kairon created the border district of Lahaul-Spiti to guard India’s western frontier against Chinese incursions. PH went happily. Though he was no sportsman or mountaineer like me, his sang froid and his teapots carried him to an enjoyable tenure of pioneering development work. Lahaul-Spiti then had a mule track up the Rohtang, doing duty as a jeep road—dangerous and exciting. I followed him as Deputy Commissioner of Lahaul-Spiti, as I had as SDM, Mahendargarh. In later years, I kept going back to Keylong, the latest last year. People remember him with affection and high regard.

He married a Punjabi girl from Nabha. Sadly, she died in 1975. There were no children. He maintained little contact with Gujarat and Kathiawar. He had immersed himself so much in Punjab, its people and its culture, that he did not miss his past. During the last 35 years, he lived an austere bachelor’s life, full of high moral purpose.

He learnt the real Amritsar village Punjabi, and would surprise me with phrases of the language that I did not know, and knowledge of the deepest cultural and political streams of Punjabi life. He kept open house. The dinners were simple dal-subzi; the drinks, a thandai or tea, but the arguments were passionate, and the conversation, stimulating, all about Punjab’s parties, leaders and policies.

He was proud of Punjab, and would argue hard, sometimes recklessly, in Delhi meetings of the high and mighty.

He did become Punjab’s Chief Secretary, but was brought to Delhi in a typical sudden whim of a Central minister for not very good reasons. In Delhi he deserved better.

In retirement, he happily settled in his Sector-10 house. In the turmoil of the eighties, he did everything possible to help those in distress. PH became a great energetic supporter of public causes in the state and Chandigarh. He would often argue NGO pleas in Delhi. Privately, he was of comfort to many families and individuals. To the last, he worked for a better tomorrow in any way he could.

PH is gone. I am happy that he did not suffer any long debilitating illness. I believe a clean exit is given to the fortunate. He deserved it. I say with Shakespeare:

PH led a full life of high purpose, and he is no more. I will miss him, for something of my past is gone. In Lahaul-Spiti, he used to sing a ditty, Hanson ka kafila. I like to think PH is in a line of swans, flying over the Chandrataal in Lahaul.