If anyone tells you that promotions always bring happiness, don't believe him. Sometimes a promotion arrives wrapped in shiny paper but contains a problem inside.
The year was 1985. I was posted in Delhi, happily working as Stabilisation Manager in BHEL. My job was to stabilize the newly commissioned thermal power units after we had successfully completed the commissioning of five 200 MW units at Singrauli Super Thermal Power Station in record time. Those were the days when getting your first promotion was almost as difficult as finding a seat in a crowded Delhi bus during office hours.
Then came the promotion order. Senior Manager at last!
I looked at the order with great excitement.
Then I read the fine print.
Posting: Wanakbori, Gujarat.
My excitement immediately developed a leakage.
Now, let me introduce my boss, the late Mr. Rengarajan. May God bless his soul. Somehow that gentleman and I never seemed to vibrate at the same frequency. Around that time, Wanakbori project was running behind schedule and somebody had to be sent there.
One Mr. Thiruvenkatam had originally been earmarked for the job. Unfortunately, he had developed a sudden and deep attachment to Gandhinagar. His son's education, he argued, would suffer if he moved.
A perfectly valid argument.
The only problem was that I had exactly the same problem.
My son Anish's education would also suffer.
But management asked Mr. Rengarajan who should go.
With remarkable generosity he suggested my name.
After all, I had just completed a record-breaking assignment at Singrauli. Why waste such talent in Delhi?
It was a masterstroke.
He got rid of me from Delhi and saved poor Thiruvenkatam from displacement.
Everybody was happy.
Except me.
---
On my way to Wanakbori, I landed in Baroda and met the late Mr. Raja to arrange transportation.
He calmly informed me that a jeep would come from Wanakbori in two days.
Two days!
I wanted to leave the very next day.
Already annoyed by my transfer, I became even more annoyed by the transport arrangement.
I conveyed my displeasure to Gururajrao, my local contact, and informed him in very diplomatic language that I would repay this treatment with interest at a later date.
Gururajrao wisely conveyed my message to Mr. Raja.
The effect was instantaneous.
Mr. Raja became more active than a boiler feed pump during peak load.
By next morning a hired car had magically appeared, and my family and I were dispatched to Wanakbori in style.
Sometimes diplomacy works best when lightly seasoned with threat.
---
On reaching Wanakbori, we were accommodated in the Gujarat Electricity Board guest house.
So far, so good.
Then I met the site in-charge, Mr. Pathak.
In the course of conversation he casually informed me that an E-Type quarter had been allotted to me.
Now, for those unfamiliar with government housing classifications, E-Type quarters were generally meant for the lowest grades.
I was a newly promoted Senior Manager.
Mr. Pathak himself was staying in a B-Type quarter.
I nearly swallowed my tongue.
Immediately I contacted Mr. Rengarajan.
I informed him, in language that left little room for misunderstanding, that if proper accommodation was not arranged, I could not guarantee smooth progress of the project.
This message somehow reached senior officials of the Gujarat Electricity Board.
Suddenly everyone discovered that suitable accommodation was indeed available.
Miracles happen every day in India.
You simply need the correct pressure.
---
Looking back, I am almost embarrassed at how negative I felt when I arrived at Wanakbori.
I was unhappy about the transfer.
I was unhappy about the schooling problem.
I was unhappy about transport.
I was unhappy about accommodation.
In short, I was professionally unhappy and personally miserable.
To ensure Anish received proper education, I eventually admitted him to the hostel of Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan in Baroda.
That was not easy for any parent.
But then something unexpected happened.
People happened.
---
Many years later, this morning in fact, my old colleague Anand called me after reading my previous article on Gujarat.
He was delighted that I had mentioned him and his wife Meenaben.
During our conversation I told him something I had perhaps never expressed fully before.
I had arrived in Gujarat with a negative mindset.
But people like Anand, Meenaben, their son Chaka, Mr. Dharangdharia, P. C. Patel of GEB and many others gradually changed my outlook.
Their friendship made the transition smooth.
The work itself was challenging and exciting.
And then there were those legendary monthly gatherings at Anand's flat.
A few pegs of whisky.
Meenaben's outstanding chicken curry.
Mr. Dharangdharia's stories.
Laughter flowing more freely than the whisky.
Those evenings did more for my morale than any management seminar ever could.
---
In fact, I often joked that I was the "SC of BHEL."
No, not Scheduled Caste.
Shit Cleaner.
Whenever there was a difficult project, a delayed commissioning, a troubled site, or a crisis nobody wanted to touch, somebody would inevitably remember Roy.
And off I would go with my broom.
Strangely enough, those difficult postings shaped my career.
Barauni had done it earlier.
Now Wanakbori was doing it again.
---
What started as a punishment posting became one of the most rewarding phases of my life.
I got the opportunity to work closely with warm-hearted Gujaratis.
I visited Anand, the home of India's famous milk cooperative movement.
I travelled frequently to Ahmedabad and Baroda.
I sought blessings at the Ranchhodraiji Temple in Dakor.
I built friendships that have survived decades after retirement.
And somewhere along the way, the resentment disappeared.
---
The Lesson
Life has a peculiar habit.
Many of the doors we enter reluctantly turn out to lead to our best experiences.
When I boarded that car from Baroda to Wanakbori, I was carrying irritation, resentment, and disappointment.
I had no idea that I was also travelling toward friendship, professional growth, unforgettable memories, and a lifelong affection for Gujarat.
That is perhaps the greatest lesson I learnt.
After every dark night there is sunshine.
The trick is to keep moving until sunrise.
And if the journey includes good friends, a few pegs of whisky, and Meenaben's chicken curry, the sunrise arrives much faster. 😊
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