Taking leave

When we completed the Master in Public Management programme at NUS/HKS, I was called upon to deliver the Valedictory address. Here is the address:

Chairperson for the valedictory session, Guest of honour, Distinguished invitees, Dean, Faculty members, Administrative staff, Batch of MPM 2010, My batchmates of MPM 2009, 

It’s always good to start at the beginning. Why me for the valedictory address, then? I was only the oldest one in the class. By being in the class, I increased the average age of the class but drastically reduced its average IQ. Given that, I am extremely honoured and deeply humbled by being chosen for the occasion.

 

This is the best of times and the worst of times for all of us. An occasion like this entails a certain emotional ambiguity and collective ambivalence. We are shortly going to complete our course and proudly flaunt three prestigious letters after our names: MPM from LKY School of Public Policy. While we are honoured by the cause of our departure, all of us are also infinitely saddened by the fact of it. No more walks from College Green to reach the class in time. No more daily association with a very special group of teachers who gave each of us so much of individualised attention and whose doors were always open for us despite their very busy schedules. No more joys and sorrows of an A+ or a B-. Above all, no more daily interactions amongst probably one of the most cohesive, high energy batches this school has seen – the 22 of us from eight so very different nationalities and cultures who bonded so very well.

 

I personally think, the biggest thing that happened in the year 2009 was not the first African American to become the President of the most powerful country in the world. Nor was it the global meltdown. Nor was it the death of Michael Jackson or the big blockbuster Slumdog Millionaire winning eight Oscars. The biggest thing that happened in 2009 was the 22 of us coming together through this program.

 

At the end of one year, I am amazed at the amount of ground we have covered. I do not think any other course in the whole wide world has as big a canvas as this one. In our first semester, we were exposed to concept subjects like Economics, Public Management, Globalisation and so on. Through visits, attachment and other programs like the Dean’s lectures, we learnt what impossible heights of efficiency public management can be taken to through some of the mechanisms like Statutory Boards, CEP, HAIR appraisals and so on. Then there was the foreign university component where we rubbed shoulders with a large variety of students and faculty from all parts of the globe.

 

Let me talk a little about that canvas. Economics. While I have been a student of Economics and am reasonably fond of the subject, I was indifferent to the idea of the indifference curves ever finding a real life application. The first few lectures of Economic reasoning followed the pattern. Then came Prof Mukul Asher’s brilliant analysis of Singapore’s budget and we all said wow! Economics is bread and butter issues also! Global trends in finance, how to make the strategic shift, the 5 C’s and the strategic triangle, the game theory and the generic solutions – I have merely mentioned the subjects I was a part of. There were a number of equally fascinating courses the others were exposed to. The attachment when we saw first-hand a different scale of public management efficiency. Then all hell broke loose. We went to outward bound and actually we floated – in more senses than one. I would also like to mention the foreign university component. Let me inform this august gathering that we held our heads high. In most, if not all the courses we took, LKY fellows as a group were ahead of the class average including the course which is supposed to be the toughest one at Harvard – Finance.

 

At the end of all that, we are here today for a number of reasons. We are here to re-live the experience and the camaraderie. We are here to participate in a ceremony of which we are the cause as well as the occasion. We will welcome another group of extremely talented resources which are being called the fresh batch of 2010. Most of all, this is a grand opportunity for thanksgiving.

 

First of all, Singapore. This is probably the best place to learn public management in. I do not think there is any other place in the globe which has taken public management to such heights. Learn through a very low unaccounted for water (UFW) of 5 % of Singapore vis a vis 40 – 60 % in most Asian urban centres or 10 – 15 % in England and Wales. Check the 40 % public assisted arrests in Singapore compared to single digit percentages in most cities. The Singapore port managing a 9-tall stack of containers through POLNET and other mechanisms compared to three or four by most other ports so that it makes economic sense for a container from Mumbai to first come to Singapore and then go to UK. And so on. If there is any place I would like anyone to learn public management in, it has to be Singapore. So, thank you, Singapore.

 

A big thank you to the Dean and our very dear faculty. The one thing we missed at the foreign university was the personalised attention they lavished on us so generously. When we think of the difficulty of sitting through a three-hour class, we realise how much more difficult it must be to give that three-hour long lecture to a group of mid-career professionals who would examine every single word against the touchstone of their diverse experiences before internalising it. So, thank you, Dean and the faculty.

 

Now, I would propose a big thank you to us. Even if I say it, we were such a great bunch, weren’t we? We blazed so many new trails. Ours was the first batch ever when the course submissions of three students of the batch, Ivy, KT and Tristan are getting published in the prestigious International Journal of Water Resources Development. Pankaj scored the highest in the toughest course at Harvard, Finance. Apart from academic performance, we have also started a few traditions – a yearbook is just one of them. I have a fond belief that when the history of LKY School will be written, our batch will be talked of in glowing terms. Most importantly, it will be talked of as a batch which worked hard and also played hard. I don’t think any other batch had as many get-togethers as we had. Everything was an occasion for a get-together. Farewell to Profs Alan and Julie, beginning of coursework, end of coursework, even beginning of exam week. I think what I shall remember the most about this whole year is watching “Small dog millionaire” together over beer and Pizza and, at the end of it, our Vice Dean revealing himself to be a closet Elvis Presley and Paul Simon rolled into one in terms of his singing. I shall also remember the critical importance of the number 3, whether it is the three points that always have to be made, or the three children that I already have and most of us are going to have, or the three angles of the strategic triangle, and so on. There are three things that do not exist. First, ghosts; second, weapons of mass destruction; and third, an A or A+ in Economic Reasoning and Policy. Meanwhile, to paraphrase Dean, Kennedy School, three things are inevitable: Death, Taxes and a mid-life crisis – either we have one before coming here or we shall soon acquire it.

 

Finally, I sometimes feel, the English language is a little inadequate in words for expressing things. Where are the words to thank those two gems – Agnes and See? Both of them are a class apart. Any organisation would be proud of them and it has been our privilege to have so generously benefited from their quiet efficiency. So, thank you Agnes. Thank you, See.

 

Having talked about the past and the present, we must turn our eyes to the future. Where do we go from here? Most of us will go back to our previous jobs or similar jobs but now, much richer in terms of knowledge, skills, horizon, commitment and, most of all, a belief that, “yes, we can.” All of us will shoulder higher responsibilities and battle even greater challenges than in the past. More than the authority that comes with our positions, more than the guns some of us police and army officers wield, more than the power we have over the fates of our subordinates, the biggest weapons we will have in that battle will be the concepts and the possibilities we learnt during this one year. We shall mobilise these concepts like a general mobilises his troops and send them out to war in which the victory will be ours.

 

In the state I work in in India, West Bengal, people never say “we are going” or goodbye when they part. They always say, Aashi which means we are coming back. There are no departures. There are only deferred arrivals. So I shall like to close by saying Aashi. This is not goodbye. This is our alma mater. All of us will try to, and like to, and, in fact, insist, that we come back in the future, be it for a reunion, or a seminar, or a lecture, or, as the trend has started, as the guest of honour. So, Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy, until we meet again, so long.

 

Thank you.

Live another day

The more things change, the more they remain the same. Another day, another edit. Mid-career, I was fortunate to attend a Master’s programme split between National University of Singapore and Harvard University on an LKY Fellowship. My editorial for that yearbook:

 

 

Leaders for a better Asia

 

 

Leaders for a better Asia – that was the class motto we started with.

 

A little ambitious. But then, we were ambitious. We had to be, to seek admission to the MPM programme. We were searching for excellence. Ours was a group of 22 bright individuals from eight nationalities bringing a diversity of experience, talents and perspectives. All at once, there were the policy memos, presentations, graded class participation. The “search for excellence” slowly gave way to “struggle for survival.” Then came the roller coaster ride – butterflies in the stomach before the first presentation; tense nerves before the exams; panic at the approaching deadline; admiration and exhilaration at experiencing Singapore and the US; triumph or disappointment from our grades.

 

As we complete one year spent from College Green through Copthorne Orchid to New York and Cambridge, and sit down to produce the first ever yearbook by an MPM batch, so many vignettes crowd the memory. The orientation programme when even a class size of 22 seemed unmanageable. Get-togethers at College Green and in Marriot. The very first assignment. The careful guidance of Professors for each individual student. Autumn leaves in New England in resplendent colour. “Cultural exchanges between Columbia and Harvard.” The Outward Bound and our amazing, amazing raft. The other 21 lifelong friends who made the entire journey so special. The Attachment Paper. And of course, the Strategic Triangle. As someone said, nostalgia is not what it used to be. It is much more powerful when it is such a small cohesive group which has shared such a variety of experiences. 

The great takeaways from the course. It is sometimes as important whom you know as what you know. The much broader range of public management as opposed to management. The touchstone of the slippery slope. The marriage of counterintuitive Economics with practical New Public Management. BATNA and SBI. It was such an exciting learning curve. We probably learnt how the world moves. We tried to learn what moves the world. Maybe we learnt how to move the world. Definitely, we learnt how to at least move a small part of the small office of the small organisation and the small part of the world we inhabit. And last, probably the most amazing of all, we learnt that we are leaders for Asia and that we can help make it a better place. Despite the policy memos, presentations, class participation marks. Or was it because of them?

Starting it all

 

IIM, Bangalore was a decade old when we happened there but ours was the first batch to move into the new campus parts of which were still under construction then. Two of us edited all the literary outputs from our batch during those heady times. My co-editor (and partner-in-crime) was Rajendra Nargundkar, currently an acclaimed Professor of Marketing and Vice Chancellor of a University. This is what we wrote in the yearbook for our batch: 

 

STARTING IT ALL 

 

We were the lords and ladies of all we surveyed. A campus emerging, Sphinx-like, from the ruminating remnants of prehistoric stones, an open-air mess with cloistered smoke inside and a green nursery without, hundred percent compulsory attendance, a fragmented library providing ex-cases for bus journeys to the City, all this presaged a two-year sojourn that ends with quadrangled card games and bucket-bashes. It was a time for venturesome dreams, gigantic castles in the air, generous undercurrents of apprehension and excitement, for exchanging names and qualifications and identification details with a hundred others, remembering some, forgetting some, and then trying to remember some more. A time for forays into skits and songs. Talks about the Inter-IIM. And first, tentative attempts at beating the system. 

And soon there was a time for waking up. For wiping away the mists of gossamer dreams from one's eyes. For taking stock. For realising that, idyllic existence or otherwise, it's all over. The last card had been dealt. The last supper in what we call the mess, devoured. Tomorrow will be a different territory, an existence separate from Bannerghatta. No more deleterious last-night battles for the next morning's quiz. No longer the long walks to Uncle's at eleven in the night. Time to pack up and flaunt the M.B.A. degree in an evanescent world of corporate make-believe. 

And in between. In between lay a two-year stretch when a lot of dreams crashed, a lot were rewritten and some new ones born. Who wins and who loses- in exams, in Frisbee, in Cricket, in JAM, in Baddy. Who gets a better grade and who gets the rough end? Who is how what. Keeping count till the cows come home. 

Tragic interludes. Of Puneet and Salvo snatched away in their prime. Of visits to the Electric Crematorium. Of ashes. Of bitter butterflies in the stomach. Two who were living were now dead. We who were living were also to come to ashes, with a little patience. Bubbling moments. PJs bandied about with competitive zeal, Mural coming alive with yesterday's headliners. 

Mimicking the Profs. The inter-IIM trophy won in the first year and lost subsequently. Chorus chants of Beatles numbers and limericks to fill the darkness when the KEB calls the tune. Late-night efforts to bring out printed IIMBIBEs (our mags). Finding places of solace on MG and Brigade. And discovering the mysterious ways back to the hostel.

All this and a lot more were what those two years were all about. We will look back upon the memories of this unpremeditated past, we are bound to. 

The new growing campus may, on some distant or not-so-distant date, become the epitome of all that is best in the best possible of worlds, a meeting place for enlightened, avante-garde haute-management. Or it may degenerate into the stale nemesis of dreams relinquished, academic might-have-been. 

Whatever happens, we will have the consolation that we started it all.

 

Dash n' Gunds

March 1984.

[Also from the yearbook, IIMPRESSIONS. Creator: I.K. Gautam]

 

Gratefully yours, gracefully yours

 

I’m 62 now, trying desperately for 63. Before I get completely deranged and "the advancing years disengage the operation of my mind from the content of my speech" and writing, I must express my gratitude to the many, many people and circumstances that lit up my life through the years. Here goes the first instalment. 

I was a very bad student, possibly the worst ever in the first school I attended. This was at odds with what my father thought. In his idea of me as an unlikely combination of Albert Einstein and Newton rolled in one, he’d got me admitted directly in Class 3 of a school called Bazarpara U.P. School in Angul, Orissa. Like most Indian parents, my father put me into private tuitions. The teacher and I tried valiantly but try as we would, I just couldn’t fathom the art of subtraction even though, with difficulty, I could add. In Class 3, I passed but featured at the bottom of all the students who passed. I overheard my father telling my Mom he really didn’t know what the future held for me, going by the early signs. Then someone called Kalpataru Sir happened.

 

I really don’t know why he took a shine to me – probably because he was a student of my father who himself was a school teacher for higher classes in a different school. Under his tutelage, I started to understand many things which were blind spots for me and started feeling a little more confident.

 

In Class 4, we didn’t have a roof over our heads in the classroom. When it rained, we used to cower under some trees and our class teacher (there used to be one single teacher for all subjects per class) used to be under another tree doling out wisdom for the ages. The standards of teaching were very strict and brutal. One day, a parent came and complained that our teacher wasn’t strict enough. When she protested, he said that she wasn’t beating his child at all. When she protested again, he wanted to see an example. After a few tight slaps, he was disappointed and said how was that a punishment when the spine hadn’t been touched. Then, egged on by the parent, the teacher let loose on the back of the child with the hard slate and the father was finally satisfied.

 

Another parent came and asked for his two sons to be admitted. The teacher was happy, asked the whereabouts of the kids and assigned two of the students coming from that village to accompany them. To this, the parent protested. Allaying the teacher’s concern about young children coming to school from a distance of 20 kilometres, he blithely reported that one was 18 years old and the other one was 19 years young.

 

This was all by the way. The real story is, in Class 4, I came across a brilliant fellow student, Hari. Not only was he a topper in each single subject, he was great at sports and at soothing any ruffled feathers, was teacher’s pet, had enough humility for a whole school. In his very artistic handwriting, he used to copy teachings of the Bible. My ambition was to emulate him and I borrowed those notes and tried reproducing and memorising them until my grandfather saw me and told me to also do the same with Veda and Vedanta. Well, Hari was our paradigm for excellence.

 

In the Half-yearly exams in that year, the class teacher rattled out our scores in each paper. We were asked to write them down on our slates, total them up and get them checked by Hari. We did and Hari okayed mine. Then, Hari said he had to total up his own marks and it turned out that his total was less than mine by two marks. The teacher, Hari and I were thoroughly perplexed and checked and rechecked but, turned out, I’d topped, against the run of play.

 

Three months later, a bulky guy (Hari's father) landed up in the class and dragged Hari out. When our teacher ran after him shouting why, he asked who would help him in (manual) scavenging when he was getting old. That was the last we saw of Hari.

 

Kalpataru Sir managed to get me through class 4 with flying colours. In Class 5, he became my class teacher. Somehow, he believed I was capable of better things and, step by painful step, got me to qualify to appear for the National Scholarship examination. He used to coach all of us National Scholarship aspirants in his spare time but I don’t think he was charging any money. One morning, my parents had overslept so I couldn’t make it to his coaching class. He landed up at our house and soundly berated my parents for being so callous about their son’s future.

 

In the middle of all this, my father got transferred so we had to pack our bags and a cow and go away. About two months or so later, by some quirk of fate, he was transferred back to his old station, Angul. The joy on Kalpataru Sir’s face was to be seen to be believed. Much later, I learnt that in those intervening two months, he had abandoned his coaching of the other students also and resumed only after I turned up again. Mid-career, while applying for a Masters' in Public Management abroad, I sat for GRE and many tricks Kalpataru Sir had taught me came back to me in the course of the exam, leading to a 99 percentile score in the quanti paper.

 

When the internet happened, I tried long and hard to “find” Hari and Kalpataru Sir on the net but to no avail. I do hope, Hari’s genius eventually found him. I also hope, Kalpataru Sir had a fulfilling life and many other students benefited from his academic and personal generosity. I went to Angul town after four decades with my kids to show them where I grew up. I located the school with great difficulty and found that it was in ruins and apologising for its last-gasp existence. Only some students in Class 1 were being sought to be taught in a dark, dingy room. The class room where I used to sit in my class 5 under Kalpataru Sir’s watchful eye was practically destroyed. It was all very sad. I’m eternally grateful for my own accident of birth and other accidents which made for a fairly privileged life. To many Hari’s, to Kalpataru Sir, to everybody, my sincere, silent salute.

[What is left of Bazarpara U.P. School, Angul]