Book Excerpt: Nariyal Pani for Mrs Gandhi

When the motorcade finally arrived, my heart raced with anticipation as I watched the convoy of cars pass through the gate.

The swift and assertive actions of the security personnel guided us to the right vehicle. As designated, my registrar and I approached the fourth car to escort the prime minister. Our director was travelling in the sixth car in line. He, too, jumped out of the office vehicle and walked briskly towards me. By then, Mrs Indira Gandhi had stepped out of the vehicle, as had the chief minister of West Bengal, and was already alongside Mrs Gandhi. As we approached, I was excited to come face-to-face with Mrs Indira Gandhi. One aspect that was not rehearsed so far was how we were to greet Mrs Gandhi. I smiled and joined my hands in a namaste. Well, she surprisingly held out her hand to shake mine. I felt rather meek and stupid and quickly stretched my hand to her. It was a normal handshake, neither too firm nor soft. I told her my name, and I shook her hand. She softly repeated my name after me. It was a brief and unforgettable interaction, and her repetition of my name,

left a lasting impression on me.

Looking back on this experience later in my career, I realized the importance of repeating someone’s name upon introduction to ensure its lasting impact.

This encounter with MrsGandhi stayed with me and served as a reminder of the meaningful experiences that shape our professional journey.

By now, she had already started chatting with the chief minister, Mr Ray. Realizing the protocol, I stepped back behind them, and my director and my registrar walked along with me. Once we reached the Netaji auditorium, arrangements were already made for her to don the convocation gown. Tea, coffee and biscuits were already laid out for all of them. In three minutes, Mrs Gandhi came out of the green room in the blue and black convocation gown.

I asked her whether she would like a cup of tea or coffee. Pat came her reply: ‘I would like some nariyal pani (tender coconut water).’ Now, this was something that just threw us out of gear. Immediately, her ADC told me I should organize the nariyal pani and ensure that the coconut in its husk was not cut and brought in whole.

I found myself in the midst of a high-stakes situation, tasked with securing tender coconuts for the prime minister. As I frantically coordinated with my colleagues, I can still picture the urgency in the chief minister’s eyes as he urgently inquired about the availability of the coconut water, expressing concern that the prime minister’s satisfaction hinged on its prompt procurement. I was filled with doubt about our ability to fulfil this crucial request.

Someone ran out to try and get the coconuts. In the meanwhile, madam prime minister, our chief minister, and the other dignitaries, were huddled in deep conversation whilst three or four of us just hung around.

After about a minute, the chief minister approached me and asked, ‘where is the nariyal pani? Get it fast, or madam will get angry.’ I said, ‘yes, yes’, and nothing else as I was completely clueless as to whether we would be successful in getting the nariyal pani. He then went back to chat with the prime minister and, a minute later, came back to me and asked me the same question, this time even more impatiently.

Just then, a chap arrived with a plastic bag containing four green coconuts. The ADC immediately pulled out one from the bag, looked at it thoroughly, and from his pocket, took out a rather large penknife that actually could slice through the coconut husk. A stark white napkin was pulled out of nowhere by one of the staff, and the ADC poured the coconut water into a clean glass. Mrs Gandhi took it with a smile and turned around to us and said thank you.

The scene was a whirlwind of activity with the graduation ceremony commencing and dignitaries taking their places on stage as we hurried to the open-air theatre. I felt a little sad that there was no goodbye exchanged or a handshake. She and the rest just walked away, and we became part of ordinary public and joined the audience. Her powerful speech about the government’s investment in students and the ensuing brain drain to the United States left an indelible mark on me, shaping my outlook on life.

The emotions of the day lingered long after the ceremony had drawn to a close. As Mrs Gandhi and her entourage departed without formal farewells, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness. The memory of that day remains vivid in my mind, as if it had happened just yesterday.

This was a huge experience for me in handling the arrangements for the first citizen of this country when I was just twenty-two-years-old. It taught me many lessons then and much of that remains with me even today.

This was the second powerful lady I had had the privilege of being close to; the first one being Mother Theresa, in my school days—both iconic in their respective fields.

Like I have already said, the IITs are not just about academics—it’s about education in its entirety. It makes you a person that you never were, and the five years that you are there, transform you completely and make you a man who can face the world in any situation.

(Excerpted with permission from Penguin Random House)