Climbing up the greasy pole

As Good As My Word  
By K M Chandrasekhar 
Publisher: HarperCollins
Pages: 295 
Price: Rs 599

Great generals do not retire, they only fade away. Not so the ubiquitous bureaucrats; they retire on superannuation. Unless re-employed they end up penning their service story, euphemistically titled, ‘memoirs’. Their narratives invariably revolve round them and  their doings while in service and very little either about the complexities of governance or the travails of climbing up the greasy  pole.  

Chandrasekhar’s book is refreshingly different. It is much less on him  and his exploits but more on men and matters as seen by him both  from the ringside and inside. It is, therefore, part memoir and part history that is seamlessly coalesced into a narrative often peppered with amusing anecdotes and supporting side stories.    

A seasoned bureaucrat who donned many an official cap during his five-decade-long career, Chandrasekhar has understandably much to write home about. His career took him to several places and positions, within the country and around the globe; from district administration in his salad days in a Kerala district, to commodity trading, to industrial management and high finance, to trade diplomacy and, finally, to the top-notch post of Cabinet Secretary.  

Essentially a non-resident-Keralite, having spent his growing years in Lutyen’s Delhi, Chandrashekhar’s only link with his lineage was the customary annual visitation to his ‘tharavad’ during vocations. Decades later, destiny – his pet word is ‘serendipity, which often pops up in the book – brought him back to the same backyard, not for leisure but for work. And after several years of globe-trotting, he returned to the same place for good. With that “serendipity completed its mission.”

By his own admission, his initial days in Kerala was godsend as it toughened him to more than cope with tougher challenges later. One such was when, as India’s trade representative, he encountered his counterparts from Europe and the Americas who were too condescending to suffer. But “(T)his caused no problems for me,” he writes, “because we had to learn diplomatic ways in Kerala, and my experience stood me in good stead.” He also seems to have picked up a few more tricks of his trade not so much from his peers as from outstanding visionaries like E. Chandrasekharan Nair, then Minister for Civil Supplies, who taught him “many a lesson in administration.” 

Chandrasekhar’s canvas is understandably huge. But he has used it with restrain and discretion. He does not dilate unnecessarily on men and matters of not much consequence but has written in great detail on issues of public interests. Quite legitimately, therefore, his days in trade diplomacy and Cabinet secretariate, get the maximum space. And in both the cases, he has been candid enough in reporting the actual goings-on without being either sensational or secretive.  

His days as Cabinet Secretary (2007-2011) were crucial. When he was specially picked for the post by Manmohan Singh, UPA was at the height of its fame. By the time he left, the decline in its fortunes had just about begun. The ensuing parliamentary poll sealed its fate and, no less importantly, the values and institutions the country had cherished for so long.  

Chandrasekhar’s non-partisan analysis puts the good and the bad of UPA governance in perspective. And he attributes its fall partly to leadership failures but largely to the “proliferation of corruption issues,” that, ironically though, were later found to be either baseless or grossly exaggerated. Added to it was “the incapacity of the leaders of the government at that time to defend themselves effectively.”   

Very politely but firmly he has exposed the CAG’s role in trumping up cases of corruption on presumptions and assumptions that would not stand scrutiny. In the event, all this not only undermined the poll fortunes of UPA, but, more seriously, the very morale of bureaucracy, not to talk of the life and reputation of many an unblemished career. 

The real shocker for Chandrashekhar, as also for the country and the civilised nations of the world, was the dastardly attack on Mumbai by Pak terrorist on the fateful morning of 26 November 2008. His account of the horrendous tragedy brings out not just the weakness of decision-making at the highest level but, more crucially, the total lack of co-ordination among the many power centres in charge of the security of the country. Despite being the top-most bureaucrat, he  seemed to have been kept in the dark about intelligence reports prior to the attack. In retrospect that was the price the country paid for having devalued a pivotal post over the years.   

Chandrasekhar demitted office well before the BJP-led coalition ascended power. He is arguably silent on its political fallout, but overtly critical of the economic policies pursued in the name of the much-needed reforms. Sensible minds will find it difficult to disagree with him.