Let me take you back in time!!
It was June 1972. I was a few months short of my 19th birthday. As fate had it, I was with Prof. VS Murthy,( Harvard MPA )Head, Dept of Public Admin., Nagpur University who was diligently totaling my graduation marks with a pencil to check my eligibility for admission into MA (Pub.Admin). I did my BSC with MPC and chose to pursue PG in Pub Admin due to two reasons:
1. My father wanted me to go for civil services
2. Nagpur Univ was the oldest in teaching Pub Admin.
Prof Murthy declared about my eligibility for admission and as I was looking over my shoulder ,he asked me why so? I replied that my father is outside. He asked me to call him inside. My father came in and prof chided me to bring my father for admission into PG course.
We paid fees and came down to ground floor bus stop to take a city bus.
Here I underwent first culture shock. A girl sat next to me in the bus for the first time when my father is sitting next to me.. A funny feeling..
July 1972: Classes started. The subjects were Greek and Latin to me and I was at sea in understanding the concepts of Political Thought and I was cursing my fate about joining the course.
During same month an incident happened which turned my life upside down…
It was “Principles of Pub Admin” class. Prof Murthy had a peculiar habit of reading a folded newspaper and continuing teaching/talking about Pub Admin subject without taking eyes off from newspaper. Its a very difficult task. He used to do this with aplomb. That day he was talking about French Revolution and vividly portraying the attack on Bastille prison wherein revolutionaries behead the Jailor and pin his severed head to a flag post.
We were following with rapt attention.
At the end he posed a question : Can anyone sum it up in two words about this attack and what has been destroyed? Pin drop silence. I Stood up. Prof said “”You are in Univ. Sit and answer””. I summed it in two sentences and then into one sentence and then into half sentence. I kept on trying from my side and was looking into his eyes. After 5/6 minutes,I admitted my inabilty. He provided the answer “POWER SYMBOL” .. The class was about to end ..then prof asked me to see him after the class. I was confused as I was singled out and other students scared me that I entered into an argument with Prof — hence I was called to be disciplined.
Gingerly, I went to his room. He offered me a seat and asked me to close the door. He started asking questions right from my childhood. I told about my lower middle class family, my father’s job as Railway Station Master, our family’s financial position, how I went to school without footwear till 7th std.. why I changed 7 schools between 1–12 class. etc.. It was a 360 degree interview. He interviewed me for more than an hour.
Then he asked me to go out to the department office and check a specific tray and bring New York times, and Washington Post news papers. It was my first deedar of such famous newspapers. They are 10 days old as they used to come in those days by airmail. Each news paper was of 72 pages. Yes 72 pages . He asked me to open editorial page and there were many editorials. He picked one each from both papers and instructed me to condense them ( precis writing.)
I carried NYT&WP to my room and with great reluctance looked at the chosen editorial from each newspaper and wrote a condensed version of the it and presented to Prof Murthy after two days. He scanned my script and with red pen marked huge letter X on each page and threw them into a corner. I was red faced. He calmly told me to repeat. I went after two days with revised scripts. He threw them again. After 4 attempts he okay-ed the scripts reluctantly. From that point a long journey started for me. At least twice in a week I used to spend time with him in his room after or before my classes. He made me to go thru many volumes of Harijan-Magazine edited by Bapu and many more books lined up in his office.. My precis writing continued for 3 months and then he suddenly asked me to stop it and asked me to read all eight editorials of both newspapers and jot down points to discuss/clarify with him.
During those days one more incident happened. Prof Murthy was discussing about administrative reforms and stressed the need to develop an eye for details.
He suddenly asked the class:
Q:” What is the name of the last bus stop before reaching campus?
A: All answered “ Bharat Nagar”
Q: How do you know?
A: There is a board denoting the name
Q: What else is on the board
A : — — — — — — No one answered.
I dared “ Bharat Nagar, Amaravati Road, Nagpur, Maharashtra”
Then citing me, he told the class that everyone must develop an eye for detail.
Prof Murthy treated me like a son, guiding, chiding, pushing me to complete reading of books that he suggested me to get from Library on my card and at times on his card. I slowly became more efficient in reading and discussing on international affairs.
This went through till end Feb 73.
I got respite from the above vigorous schedule due to annual exams.
Those days I interested in riding a bicycle and used to go with another friend to various places in the city almost every day and was not studying seriously for exams. My Land Lady aged 70 years used to warn me and always makes a point to advise me the importance of studies and compares me with my room mate who spends all the time studying . I used to sneak into the house after my daily outing as I was scared to face her.
Annual exams started wherein I must write for 3 hours for each of 4 papers — 5 questions to be answered out of 10. First day I saw Political Thought question paper and was shocked. I could answer only 3 questions instead of 5 and answered those 3 in 90 minutes and walked out of exam hall full 90 minutes to spare after picking up a tiff with invigilator who refused to let me go as per existing rules.
I cycled to my another friend’s exam center and was awaiting his arrival- who came out after full 3 hours’ time and was shocked to see me. I told him that I was waiting for him since an hour. He became furious about my irresponsible behaviour for not attempting all required 5 questions. I repeated the above (only answering 3 questions) for all four papers and my friends decided that I was a nut case.
At the end of exams, I gave Rs 20 to the clerk of my Dept along with a self addressed postcard and requested him to advise my result.
I was also feeling terrible to face my father who used to send Rs 180 pm out of his modest salary of Rs 450 with 3 more children at home. Once he asked me how I fared in exams, I feebly replied OK. I was avoiding him most of the time .
1973 — June 15 or so : The post card arrived at my address.
