Thirty pieces of silver

 

There was a fairly long period, three and a half years to be precise, when I thought I was the most unpopular person on the planet. This was when I headed Bureau of Civil Aviation Security (BCAS), the attached office which acts as the security regulator for all matters aviation across the 100 odd airports, seven domestic and 11 international airlines, numerous ground handling agents and caterers, even more numerous concessionaires, the access control agencies and so on, operating in India. 

What happened was this. I thought my job was to protect lives and civil aviation assets against unlawful interference by criminals and terrorists. All the other stakeholders thought my job was to protect them and their vested interests. They were merrily going about playing havoc with the rules and regulations and I went about merrily playing havoc with their machinations. I was astounded by how much and how routinely most rules were being transgressed. Every time I rejected an application or took action against a violator, the matter went on appeal to higher authorities and each time, before the hearing, the authorities would ask how big and how influential the appellant was. When I tried telling them that, for me, all applicants were equal and that I didn’t regulate by size or influence, I was laughed out of court. It became so that a particular Secretary and I developed serious religious differences. He thought he was God and I didn’t agree. One day, he told me he would throw me out. I politely told him he probably had that power but as long as I was holding the post, I would do my best by my mandate.

 

We were chugging along in mutual hostility when the guys at one particular airport thought that they could buy out everyone and everything for thirty pieces of silver. While constructing their airport they had violated the security regulations left, right and centre and three of these violations had considerable potential for serious harm. My organisation had objected to these shenanigans right at the design stage, again at the start of construction and, yet again, shortly after construction started but the airport just went ahead. In one of the inspections, when my DIG raised objections with their engineer, the latter’s boss shouted at the engineer, “Don’t bother about these security types; when the PM will inaugurate the airport, all these guys will be standing in a queue, clapping.” My motto having been, “Whatever it is, I’m against it,” there couldn’t have been a more motivating piece of dialogue for me to lay down the law, consequences be damned.

 

When the time came for the crucial meeting for the final decisions, the outcomes were pre-determined and everything was set for just a few nods around the table. Just as I was leaving the waiting room to go into the conference hall for the meeting, I received a call from the dak master of the Minister, “Dash sahab, aap zaraa positive ho jaaiye …” In the meeting, the airport owners walked in floating on air and looking down upon all of us from on high. For them, it was just a boring formality to be gone through. I didn’t raise any objections, I didn’t scream or shout. I just pointed out that such and such rules were violated; the objections were communicated in writing thrice; and, I shall not be granting the security permission. Also, that if I was overruled, I shall seek legal opinion and appeal against such overruling. All hell broke loose. The meeting concluded at 5.30 PM and I left. Next morning, my DIG told me that as he was waiting for the lift shortly after, he was accosted by some very high Ministry officials and there was a heated and astounded discussion as to how BCAS, an organisation under the command and control of the Ministry of Civil Aviation could take a stand opposite to the Ministry’s stand. And, the discussion lasted till 8.30 PM (three hours!), all outside that lift door. Later, the airport claimed that due to my “pig-headedness” and the resultant delay, the cost overrun of the project amounted to Rs. 1,100 crores.

 

The Minister and the Secretary were at loggerheads over everything and looked at each single issue in opposite directions. However, things came to a head for me when their great minds found a meeting ground on one decision –  that I must go if the industry, the country and, in fact, the entire cosmos were to be saved. Normally, political will (of corruption) comes up against bureaucratic won’t. In this case, not only had political will come up against bureaucratic won’t, (higher) bureaucracy will had come up against (junior) bureaucracy won’t!! So, quietly, very quietly, the Secretary wrote to the concerned authorities that I should be repatriated back to my cadre. I believe, what he wrote, in effect, was that, single-handed, I had brought the entire civil aviation industry in the country to a standstill. All this, for just sticking to the rules!!

 

I really didn’t know what to do. For me, it was just another assignment. Meanwhile, premature repatriation to the cadre usually has a stigma attached, with an implication that the officer couldn’t hack it at the Centre. I tried to meet a few people and as happens in such cases, I was passed along from one official to another in a game of pass-the-parcel. One day, I was just fed up and decided to take the fight to the guys who were actually in the wrong. I filed a case and laid out everything, chapter and verse, in my petition. And won, after about eight months. Meanwhile, the concerned Secretary had retired. The Court was so scathing and so detailed in its remarks that his successor opined that no useful purpose would be served by appealing against the Court’s orders.

 

The Minister lost his position shortly after. I completed my assignment and moved on to other pursuits. A few years later, out of the blue, I received a call from that same dak master of the Minister, now ex-Minister, “Dash sahab, aapke saath toh hum logon ka bahut jhamela hua, lekin, hamesha jab bhi aapas mein baat hoti hai, mein sabko bolta hun, aap hi jaise kuchh officer ke wazah se desh chal raha hai.” One hears the right song at the wrong time.