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The title of Robin Gupta's memoir is deceptively banal. It evokes images of yet another autobiography by a retired civil servant, replete with tinges of self-serving regret and faux rebellion. Happily, we are introduced to an uplifting spectacle of a life well-lived and, as important, to a man who can write. Three words do justice to this bureaucrat's life who did service in Punjab, Haryana, Madhya Pradesh and West Bengal — sensitivity, style and sensibility. In this age of hyper-cynicism and a general decline in the quality of our administrative structure, it is refreshing to read about a civil servant who maintained his 'form' and 'class' right through his 36 years of service. Robin Gupta comes across as what an IAS or ICS officer was supposed to be "in the good old days" — a man incorporating in his personality and working style equal amounts of panache, administrative vigour and personal discipline. But despite this efficiency and energy, there is a tone of frustration and regret at being repeatedly stymied by unscrupulous powers greater than him. After "sixteen years in service, it fully dawned on me that IAS officers (unlike the ICS) were no longer rulers... today's civil servants were, at best, advisors and facilitators."But the author does not beat the 'rebel with a cause' drum. That would be too un-nuanced an approach for him. He is more a "gentleman with a cause". The book makes for easy reading. It flows easily from chapter to chapter, waxing earthily lyrical. "Taking in deep draughts of chilled beer, I went to sleep inhaling the fragrance of the mango blossom... lying amidst the flowers, I recalled a Punjabi verse which translates as follows: Not forever does the bulbul sing Not forever lasts the spring Not forever does happiness reign Not forever do voices in a majlis ring" Gupta has a light, quick touch, almost like an impressionist painter. He conveys the atmosphere of a place, a person or a situation effortlessly. The chapters and sections on Ferozepur are a delight. He is poignant and evocative in the deep respect and love he has for his mother and the part she plays in his life. His humour is subtle and gentle, except for a few laugh-out-loud instances, as when his trusted staff suggests that he turn his beloved farmhouse into a marriage palace! Though not a tell-all tome, the book does not hold back on personal details. Gupta is honest about his personal life, his marriage and affairs, his bachelorhood and his occasional bouts of depression. Some of his scathing and withering observations about his fellow officers, officials and politicians are revelatory. There is an area,though, in which more 'meat' was needed. With his vast experience, Gupta could have dwelled more on concrete suggestions to address the present politico-administrative malaise. For instance, would it not be logical to have less IAS officers and make mentoring a big part of their job? There has to be a filter-down effect from the IAS to the PCS/HCS and other state services. This is a parliamentary democracy, with all its warts, but a democracy it is. The book sorely needs an index. Despite these irritants, this book is a must read. It subtly hits home at an area which seems almost a taboo in contemporary India — the 'class' issue which lies at the heart of the decline in our administrative and military services. Any Indian who is rising upwards within the social classes and sometimes doubts the merits of a decent family, a good upbringing and education, and a sophisticated look at the world, would do well to internalise this book. A question may cross your mind: if Robin Gupta had children, if he was invested biologically in the future, would things be different? One would like to think not. Because as the title says, nothing remains at the end, not the money you've made or the connections you've formed (for yourself or for your children) except your own sense of self satisfaction that you tried to do your job and play your part in stemming the "ethical and moral degradation we have fallen prey to".
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