The Night The Waters Rose

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THE NIGHT THE WATERS ROSE
Memoir from Barauni, 1976
By S. N. Roy

When floodwaters crept into the heart of a refinery — and my home — duty, fear, and silent courage collided. But what I remember most is not the chaos of machines shutting down, but the quiet strength of my wife carrying our infant son to safety, alone.

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A Duty-bound Dilemma

It was the monsoon of 1976, and the rains showed no signs of relenting. As the shift charge engineer of the captive power plant at Barauni Refinery, I was used to high-pressure situations — but that evening brought something different. Something far more unsettling.

Rainwater, unable to escape to the Ganges due to closed outflow gates, began to accumulate across the township and refinery complex. The Ganges itself was flooded, and opening the gates risked backflow — a technical and geographical Catch-22.

While others may have seen just puddles forming, I stood in the power house, watching the rising waterline inch towards the condensate pump which was in minus level. I had to act. With measured urgency, I initiated the shutdown of the power plant — the beating heart of the refinery — to protect equipment from catastrophic failure.

Even as I went through the motions of industrial protocol, my thoughts were elsewhere.

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Home in Peril

In our modest township bungalow, my wife was alone with our one-year-old son. News came in fast — the township was going under. Water had entered the residential quarters. My mind raced, but duty had shackled me to the control panel. I had to wait for my shift to end.

Meanwhile, my wife, showing a calmness and courage that would later leave me in awe, sprang into action. With the help of our neighbour Ramchandra Ayyer, she lifted the refrigerator onto the dining table, opened the doors to allow water to flow through — not trap inside — and with our child in her arms, waded through rising floodwaters to the first-floor home of my dear friend, Late P. G. Das.

No mobile phones. No updates. Just instinct and trust.

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A Lonely Vigil

By the time I finished my shift and returned after 10 p.m., the house stood eerily quiet. The main door was open, just as she’d left it. Water had risen inside, flowing beneath the bed like an obedient stream. The ceiling fan spun above, but the silence below was deafening.

I didn't know where my family was. I only hoped they had found shelter.

That night, I did not — could not — sleep. I kept vigil in that flooded house, all doors open, determined not to let the water rise higher, not to let the bedroom become a water tank. Every creak, every ripple of water in the moonlight, felt louder than thunder. I was surrounded by soaked walls and uncertainty. But I stayed. Not for material things — but because leaving felt like surrender.

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A Salute to Her Strength

My wife never once panicked. She did not wait for instructions or rescue. She assessed, acted, and moved — carrying our baby through the night, through uncertainty, to safety. She did it all in my absence, while I stood knee-deep in responsibility at the plant.

Even now, that night haunts me. Not for its drama, but for its silence. For the image of an open door, a baby in a mother’s arms, and a man alone in his half-submerged home wondering what mattered more — his machines or his family.

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Legacy of a Night

The Barauni flood of 1976 lasted days. The refinery took weeks to return to full operation. Equipment had to be dried, cleaned, rewound, recalibrated. But machinery can be repaired. That night taught me that love, trust, and courage — especially from those we often underestimate — are what truly power our lives.

My salute is not just to the workers who brought the refinery back to life, but to my wife — who, without fuss or fanfare, kept our family safe, and taught me what real strength looks like.

The Boiler Drum Whisper

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The Boiler Drum Whisper

A ghost story from the thermal nights of Barauni, 1974 – as told by Grandpa Roy

The Queensland sky was just darkening when Isha tugged my kurta. “Dadu, ghost story! Please na... you promised yesterday!”

Veer was already curled on the sofa, hugging a giant kangaroo cushion. Shuddy, taller than me now and pretending to scroll through his phone, gave a sideways grin. “Only if this ghost is steam-powered, Dadu. We know your style.”

I smiled, adjusted my specs, and began.

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Barauni, 1974

I had been married two years, and shift duty at the Captive Power Plant of Barauni Refinery was both adventure and responsibility. I worked as the Shift Charge Engineer, overseeing the night-shift operations of turbines, boilers, and electrical gear.

But the refinery had its... quirks.

Night shifts were often quiet, especially between 2 and 4 a.m. That’s when the operators sat sipping tea and exchanged ghost stories—tales of shadows flitting across control panels, toolkits moving on their own, or the eerie silence near the old Boiler 1 drum level.

The most repeated story was about Dube, a senior operator who had died years ago due to a fatal steam burn during an inspection. Since then, he was said to appear on night shifts, waving from the drum level, gesturing that the boiler water was low—even though the indicators always showed a safe level.

When I joined, the operators—Bhagat, Banerjee, Sahai, and S. P. Singh—gave me the usual warnings.

“Dube comes without appointment, sir,” Bhagat said with a grin, “He’s still loyal to his boiler.”

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The First Encounter

One humid night in July, I was returning from my turbine round. As I walked toward the connecting platform of the four boilers, I noticed a figure in white near Boiler 1. He was standing right at the drum level—waving at me.

Something about the motion felt... deliberate.

I climbed the stairs slowly. As I approached, the figure drifted to Boiler 2. I followed—heart pounding, steps steady.

Then suddenly, just as I reached Boiler 2’s platform, the figure jumped over the railing.

I ran.

But when I reached the spot, there was no one below.

Disturbed but rational, I returned toward my Shift Charge Room. But as I passed the corridor window, I stopped cold.

Inside my chamber—someone was leaning on my chair. White clothing. Still figure.

I didn’t enter. Instead, I went straight to the main control room, where Ansari was manning the panels.

“Did anyone go into my office?”

Ansari looked puzzled. “No sir. Haven’t seen anyone.”

Together we returned to my room. It was empty—except for a folded paper on my desk.

It read, in faint Hindi:
"Be careful next time."

I showed it to Ansari.

He turned the paper over, then looked at me.

“Sir… this is blank.”

I looked again—and the ink was disappearing before my eyes.

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The Second Incident

I thought perhaps it was my tired mind playing tricks. But a few weeks later, on another night shift, I dozed off briefly at my desk. My specs, which I had placed beside the logbook, were gone when I woke up.

Not under the table, not in the drawer, not in my pocket.

I asked everyone—Chaurasia, Bhagat, even Banerjee.

Bhagat laughed, “Maybe they went to check the feedwater levels on their own!”

It wasn’t funny then. But 20 minutes later, Sahai called out from near the condenser floor.

My specs were dangling from the wheel of an old manual valve, hanging there like some forgotten trinket.

Who put them there? No one knew. No one admitted.

Later that night, as I walked back to my room, I saw the same white figure—again in my chair.

This time Chaurasia accompanied me. And once again, the room was empty, but another warning note sat on the desk.

He too couldn’t read the writing—it vanished like mist.

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The Remedy

Disturbed, I finally mentioned it to Mishra ji, an old-timer with faith deeper than the condensate tanks.

“Hanuman ji is always present where there is fire and danger,” he said.
“Carry this,” he handed me a small red Hanuman Chalisa, “and do paath on Tuesdays. He is Sankatmochan—the remover of troubles.”

And so I did.

I began carrying the booklet in my shirt pocket. Every Tuesday, I read it quietly during my shift break. I wasn’t superstitious, but I felt... protected.

And like magic—the incidents stopped.

No figures. No notes. No vanishing specs. Even Banerjee joked,

“Looks like Dube is scared of Bajrangbali!”

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The Reveal – 1978

Four years later, in 1978, I resigned from Indian Oil to join BHEL Delhi. On my farewell day, we had chai and samosas near the control room.

Bhagat raised his tea cup.

“To Roy saab—who didn’t faint like Verma!”

Everyone laughed.

Then Sahai came over, smiling mischievously.

“Roy saab, ek baat bolun? That note you found the second time... that was my handwriting.”

I stared. “What?!”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “Every new Shift Charge Engineer gets a ghost story treatment. Tradition hai! Dube was real, but the rest—we added spice.”

“The specs?” I asked.

“Banerjee. He used a stick and a monkey wrench to lift it from under the table.”

I laughed till my eyes watered.

They had made me part of the refinery’s folklore—and I had survived with my pride and a red Hanuman Chalisa in my pocket.

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Present Day – Australia

I ended my story with a smile. Shuddy looked amused.

“So basically, you got hazed by your own team?”

“Professionally,” I said, sipping my tea.

Veer whispered, “Did Hanuman ji really scare them away?”

I winked. “Hanuman ji scared even the pranksters.”

Isha climbed into my lap.

“Dadu... can I have a small red book like yours?”

I hugged her tight.

“Of course, my dear. But remember—more powerful than Hanuman Chalisa is one thing...”

“What?” asked Shuddy.

I smiled.

“Having good people around you—even if they steal your specs and write ghost notes.”

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बड़ा जोश, छोटा स्वाद!"

मेरे बरौनी रिफाइनरी के 11 साल के दिनों में मैंने न सिर्फ पावर स्टेशन के रखरखाव और संचालन में एक पेशेवर इंजीनियर के रूप में खुद को तराशा, बल्कि बिहार के लोगों के सामाजिक-आर्थिक हालात को भी करीब से समझा। मैंने रिफाइनरी की ओर से फुटबॉल और बैडमिंटन में हिस्सा लिया, ढेर सारे दोस्त बनाए और खुद को बिहारी मानने लगा। जब मैं पावर स्टेशन में शिफ्ट इंचार्ज बना, तब मुझे एक अलग तरह का सबक मिला—जीविका, जाति व्यवस्था और समाज के ताने-बाने से जुड़ा। आम तौर पर लोग आर्थिक रूप से बहुत संपन्न नहीं थे। ज्यादातर पहली पीढ़ी के वेतनभोगी थे, जिनके कंधों पर माता-पिता और अपने बच्चों के बड़े परिवार का बोझ था। वेतन के अलावा कुछ "एक्स्ट्रा" पर भी निर्भर रहते थे।

इसी बीच एक किरदार था—साहू जी। साहू अपनी पुरानी साइकिल बेचना चाहता था, क्योंकि उसे कुछ जरूरी खर्च निपटाने थे। लेकिन उसे अच्छी कीमत नहीं मिल रही थी। वो अपनी परेशानी मुझसे अक्सर शेयर करता। उसकी साइकिल के लिए कोई भी 20 रुपये से ज्यादा की बोली नहीं लगा रहा था। 1976 में 20 रुपये बड़ी रकम थी, लेकिन साहू को और चाहिए थे।

एक दिन मैंने नोटिस बोर्ड पर देखा कि साहू ने एक अनोखा ऐलान चिपकाया था। उसने लिखा था कि वो अपनी साइकिल को लॉटरी के जरिए बेचेगा। एक लॉटरी टिकट की कीमत थी 5 रुपये। मैं हैरान था कि ये क्या चक्कर है!

मैंने इलेक्ट्रिकल कंट्रोल रूम के ऑपरेटर एस.पी. सिंह से पूछा, "अरे, साहू की साइकिल का क्या हुआ?"

सिंह ने हंसते हुए बताया, "अरे सर, साहू ने तो कमाल कर दिया! उसने लॉटरी निकाली, 30 लोग शामिल हुए। हर टिकट 5 रुपये का। कुल मिलाकर 150 रुपये कमा लिए। और साइकिल? वो तो लकी विनर को 5 रुपये में दे दी!"

मैं दंग रह गया। "क्या बात है! 20 रुपये की साइकिल को 150 रुपये में बेच दिया?"

सिंह ने ठहाका लगाया, "हां सर, साहू तो बड़ा चतुर निकला। बोला, 'साइकिल तो वैसे भी पुरानी थी, लेकिन मेरी लॉटरी ने सबको सपना दिखाया!'"

मैंने हंसते हुए कहा, "साहू तो बिजनेस गुरु है! हमें तो इंजीनियरिंग पढ़ाई, लेकिन ये तो मार्केटिंग का उस्ताद है!"

**प्रबंधन सबक**: साहू की कहानी हमें सिखाती है कि रचनात्मक सोच और नवाचार से आप सीमित संसाधनों का भी अधिकतम मूल्य निकाल सकते हैं। जरूरत सिर्फ यह है कि आप समस्या को अलग नजरिए से देखें और लोगों की भावनाओं व उम्मीदों को अपने पक्ष में इस्तेमाल करें। साहू ने साइकिल नहीं, एक "सपना" बेचा—और वो भी 150 रुपये में!

The Half-Life of Knowledge in Engineering: A Personal Reflection

The Half-Life of Knowledge in Engineering: A Personal Reflection

When I graduated from IIT Kharagpur in 1965 in Electrical Engineering, the landscape of engineering was vastly different from what it is today. The fundamental principles we learned, such as Ohm’s Law, Kirchhoff’s Law, and Fleming’s Thumb Rule, remain constants in the field. However, the applications and technologies built on these principles have undergone a sea change. Reflecting on this evolution, I realize that the half-life of our technical knowledge—the period after which half of what we have learned becomes obsolete—is a critical concept to grasp in our ever-advancing field.

During my college days, much of what we studied served to broaden our vision rather than prepare us for the specific technologies we would encounter in our careers. In the 1960s, materials science was in its nascent stage, and many of the high-strength, lightweight metals we take for granted today were still under development. The equipment we used—motors, switchgears, and generators—have since evolved dramatically, driven by innovations in materials and manufacturing processes.

The rapid pace of technological advancement, particularly with the advent of computers and artificial intelligence, means that the knowledge acquired by today’s engineering graduates will have a much shorter half-life than mine did. The only viable solution is continuous learning and knowledge upgrading. Alvin Toffler, in the 1960s, foresaw this acceleration, predicting that the time from concept to production would shrink dramatically in his best selling book "The future shock". His prediction has come true, with product development cycles now measured in months rather than years.

A striking example of this rapid obsolescence can be seen in the automotive industry. Australia, once a car manufacturing hub, ceased its car production when it couldn't compete with cheaper, more efficient Japanese models. I once met an Australian industrialist who manufactured windshields and rear-view mirrors. His business, once thriving, went bust under the onslaught of cheaper Chinese imports. This stark reality highlights the risks associated with setting up a manufacturing plant in today’s competitive global market. The danger of obsolescence is ever-present, as competitors can quickly emerge with cheaper or more efficient alternatives.

In my career, I have seen the transformative impact of these technological advancements firsthand. Working at the Barauni Refinery of Indian Oil, I witnessed the transition from an old Russian-built refinery to a new digital process. This change was so profound that it required a complete overhaul of the workforce, with older employees taking voluntary retirement and new, tech-savvy staff being brought in. It was a hard decision, but one that was necessary to keep up with the rapid pace of technological change.

At BHEL, I had to adopt a policy of continuous learning and adaptation. When my juniors came to me with problems, I encouraged them to propose at least two solutions. This approach not only fostered innovative thinking but also prepared us to handle the inevitable technological changes that lay ahead. 

Reflecting on my experiences, I see the importance of root cause analysis in navigating these changes. Tools like the fishbone diagram help us identify the underlying issues, enabling us to adapt and find solutions. However, even with these tools, the key takeaway is that in today’s world, staying static is not an option. Continuous learning and adaptability are crucial to staying relevant and competitive.

In conclusion, the half-life of knowledge in engineering is shortening, driven by rapid technological advancements. To navigate this ever-changing landscape, we must commit to lifelong learning and be prepared to adapt quickly. The story of Australia’s automotive industry and my own experiences underscore the challenges and opportunities that come with this fast-paced evolution. By embracing change and continuously upgrading our skills, we can stay ahead in this dynamic field.

"From Soviet Blueprints to Modern India: Personal Reflections on Russian Expertise, Friendship, and Unseen Ties

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I always considered Russians as better partners for us compared to Americans. In the initial stages, all our heavy industries like refining, steel, mining, fertilizer, and heavy machinery PSUs like BHEL and Hindustan Antibiotics,discovering oil in Anklewar and Kallol of ONGC in Gujarat were done with Russian collaboration and financial support. Even IIT Bombay was funded by the Russians. My encounters with Russians began during my Barauni Refinery days. Both the Barauni and Baroda refineries were built with Russian collaboration. They freely shared their technology, complete with detailed calculations. Whenever we faced a technical issue at Barauni, I would head to the technical service library and pull out the original calculations and blueprints. This access to Russian technical documentation allowed me to learn a great deal that wasn't covered during my time at IIT Kharagpur, which was built under the Colombo Plan.

My next significant contact with the Russians was at Vizag Steel in 1989. The blast furnace and raw material handling systems there were based on Russian technology. Russia was still unified then, but I left Vizag for my next posting at Farakka Super Thermal Power Station in December 1991, just as the Soviet Union was disintegrating into multiple smaller countries.

During my Bhopal days starting in 2000, I once again engaged with Russia and Ukraine. We collaborated with the hydro lab Kharkhob in Ukraine to design a runner, enabling us to compete against Alstom,Voith etc and win the contract of Kameng Hydro in Arunachal . I met Alexendrov during this time, a highly skilled technocrat with seven patents to his name. He played a crucial role in bringing mechanical designers for our transformers. When I visited Russia and Ukraine in 2003 for meetings with LMZ, Alexendrov acted as our interpreter and guide. Tragically, I recently learned that he is no more. We found that the world renowned Technological set up LMZ was owned by a Russian oligarch,an arrogant character like Putin.

Why am I writing this? Because in the last two years, I've read two books focused on Russia that paint a dismal picture of the condition of Russian intellectuals: "Second Hand Time" by Nobel-winning author Svetlana Alexievich and "A Gentleman in Moscow" by Amor Towles. Reading these books made me feel sad. I witnessed a man like Alexendrov, with his high caliber having 7/8 patents acting as our guide and interpreter. In India, he would have been revered. We used to pay him $100 a day, covering his fare, boarding, and lodging. In contrast, an American or German expert in 2003 would have cost us at least $500 a day. Today, an Indian expert costs a minimum of Rs 50,000 a day.

Indian business fraternity has taken advantage of the collapse of Russia by engaging Russian technicians and engineers in new steel plants established by companies like Mittals, Jindals and Ruias. I've seen numerous skilled Russian engineers contributing to these projects at a fraction of the cost we would have paid for Western experts. This access to affordable expertise has significantly aided India's industrial growth, proving yet again the long-standing value of our partnership with Russia.

This trend is not limited to industrial sectors alone. Private airlines in India have also employed many Russian pilots. These pilots, often with extensive experience and high levels of training, were available at a cost significantly lower than their Western counterparts. Their presence has helped maintain high standards of aviation safety and service while keeping operational costs manageable.

Additionally, I have seen groups of Russians coming to India to purchase ready-made garments in bulk, while we were staying in Karol Bagh ,Delhi I have seen hoards of Russians staying in seedy cheap hotels in Pahargaunj.They would purchase cheap readymade garments to be sold in Russia. These groups often include former doctors, engineers, and other professionals who now engage in trade to support their families. They buy garments in India and sell them back in Moscow, leveraging the cost advantages and quality of Indian textiles. During my visit to Russia I was about to buy some garments then our guide warned laughingly that those were all from India.

These examples illustrate the broad spectrum of Russian expertise that India has harnessed over the years, contributing to various sectors of our economy. While it is beneficial for us, it is equally a poignant reminder of the challenging circumstances faced by many skilled Russians who have had to adapt to new roles far from their original professions.

In "Second Hand Time" by Svetlana Alexievich, the Nobel-winning author presents a haunting portrayal of post-Soviet Russia through the voices of ordinary people. The book is a collection of interviews that reveal the disillusionment, nostalgia, and hardships experienced by those who lived through the transition from communism to capitalism. Alexievich captures the emotional and psychological toll on Russian society, painting a picture of a nation struggling to redefine its identity amidst economic and social upheaval.

"A Gentleman in Moscow" by Amor Towles offers a fictional yet equally compelling view of Russian history. The novel follows Count Alexander Rostov, an aristocrat sentenced to house arrest in a grand hotel across the street from the Kremlin in the wake of the Bolshevik Revolution. Through his eyes, we witness the dramatic changes in Russia over several decades. Despite the constraints of his confinement, Rostov maintains his dignity and wit, forging deep connections with the hotel's staff and guests. Towles' narrative beautifully captures the resilience and adaptability of the human spirit in the face of monumental societal changes.

Reading these books made me reflect on the fate of Russian intellectuals and professionals like Alexendrov, who, despite their immense talent and knowledge, found themselves in diminished roles due to the socio-economic turmoil in their country. These personal stories and historical narratives underscore the profound impact of geopolitical shifts on individual lives and the enduring connections between our nations.

During my IIT days, I was an avid reader of spy thrillers where Soviet Russia was often depicted as the villain. I was particularly fond of James Bond novels; in "From Russia with Love," SMERSH, the anti-espionage wing of the USSR, was the villain group. Those days, the Cold War between the US and USSR had divided the world into two blocs—those aligned with the US, those aligned with the USSR, and those who remained neutral, known as the third world. However, I wasn't personally influenced by these books as I didn't analyze them deeply. My project guide was Prof Zerikhin ,a Russian but our discussions never ventured beyond the subject matter. This personal connection, however brief, reinforced my belief in the value of Russian expertise and the enduring professional ties we have built over the years.

Russia and Russians as I know

Like all others I too look forward for the day when conflict between Russia and Ukraine will end.
I have been associated with Russians since my days in Indian Oil Corporation's Refinery at Barauni when Russia was Soviet Union or USSR in 1967 .That Refinery was built by Russians with aid thrown in. Russians had a separate 3 blocks as their hostel.
I remember our ceremonial football matches  against Russians after the 15th August flag hoisting.
We were evenly matched but as the refinery expansion work was petering out so during the  last  encounter they somehow cobbled up 11  players with the lady interpreter playing as goalkeeper. I was the captain of Indian side. Yes,that match we won but don't feel proud about it but appreciate their sporting spirit. Two Russian words used by the players during the match still ring in my ears "dabai" (give )and "khorosho"(good).
I must admit that Russians freely shared their engineering calculations.  There was a problem of tankage area not getting proper illumination from Tower lights,each tower had 6 flood lights of 1000 watt each. Though I got all bulbs replaced but still it was not adequate. I went to our archives and looked up illumination design of the plant and I could lay my hand on original calculations and settings. I corrected the solid angle of each of the flood light as per calculated setting, the problem got resolved. That gave me confidence that I can resolve any problem related with Electrical equipment because of those engineering documents.
Next I came across Russian designed 210 MW turbine and generator in BHEL. At one stage in 80s these 210 MW sets were the backbone of Indian grid. Again elaborate documentation helped to carry out repair and maintenance of these sets. I commissioned 5 such sets of LMZ at Singrauli Superthermal Power Station from 1982 to1984.
During my posting at Vizag Steel Plant from 1988 I again met whole lot of Russian experts and their families at Ukkunagaram, the township of steel plant .  They had a separate colony inside the township with shop and school. During that stay when  Russia disintegrated and those experts were totally dismayed about their nationalities. Overnight friends became foe. Their passports became invalid because Russia was fragmented. Suddenly the usual cheerful Russians became grumpy as their future was uncertain. By 1991 December Russia finally became many countries.
I had visited both Russia and Ukraine in 2003 ,I still remember visiting World Famous art museum Hermitage in St Petersburg, standing on the Red Square in Moscow.  I also enjoyed a show of circus in Moscow, they have permanent hall for circus. I still remember the breathtaking acrobatics by Russian gymnasts.
We visited LMZ turbine factory on the right bank of river Neva in St Petersburg.Steam turbines have been produced here since 1907 when the company was licensed to build French Rateau turbines. At the same time it began to build gun turrets, gun mountings and torpedo tubes. It was like our own turbine block at Bhopal. When I met the design engineers then didn't see any computer around,I was curious about this not having computer which by that time has become necessary tool in India. When i asked their chief about it then he gave a tolerant smile to me and said tapping his head, "all data stored here ! "
Curiously our guide Alexendrov who was an  accomplished engineer with 7 patents under his belt was not carrying any laptop.
Then I remembered their famous Grandmaster like Karpov, Spassky etc could out maneuver many,to me it appeared each of those engineers were having Karpov or Spassky like quality of storing data in mind.
Our stay in Kiev was eventful, we had visited a tram manufacturing factory known as Tatra Yug. They organized a special tram ride for us to take round of the city.
In both the countries I met hardworking intelligent engineers of both sex.
Yesterday when I heard that a dam in Ukraine has been bombarded by Russian and caused flooding.
I felt sad  and frustrated. This mindless war must end, I feel for those civilians of both the countries.

Zero mile

Zero mile …………….. The man sitting in front suddenly whipped out his revolver and aimed it on the forehead of the guy sitting in front and asked, “Bol tere sath kya saluk kiya jay , mar diya jay ya chod diya jay?” The popular Hindi song of those days from the film Mera Gaon mera desh "Mar Diya jayey ya chod diya jayey, bol tere sath kya saluk kiya jayey" was playing loudly in another dhaba at a distance. This was the scenario on that night at Zero mile near Mokameh bridge of Bihar. The roads going to Delhi and Assam cross at this Zero mile. This incidence is of late 60s when near Zero miles both sides of the roads were scattered with dhabas for long distance truck drivers. That night two guys unknown to each other were taking dinner in a dhaba sitting opposite to each other. When hearing the song “mar diya jay “one of them who was drunk pulled out his revolver and held on the guy in front. Then another drunk sitting somewhere near by shouted,”Mar diya jay..”’ “Bam “the drunk shot the guy in front. Later on of course, the police came and rounded up the culprit, well that was Begusarai district where in Indian Oil Corporation, Barauni Refinery I spent 11 years. Our refinery township is about 6 or 7 kms away from the zero mile and often during my bachelor days me with my friends would go there late in the night for dinner in those dhabas. But that incidence stunned us, we stopped our adventurous dinner visits. It was like wild wild west. One Kamdeo Singh used to rule the Nepal-Bihar border for illegal ganja (marijuana) trade. He was so daring that during election time his jeep with him and rifle wielding goons would visit the polling booths openly threatening the voters. Then of course, Seshan was yet to appear with his electoral reforms. Kamdeo Singh was described thus in an article in India Today in 2014. .... Quote The man is as elusive as the Yeti. He carries an award of Rs 10,000 on his head. Police has been ordered to shoot him on sight. He maintains an army of gunners, mercenaries, and smugglers. This may sound like a fictional character out of a Zane Grey thriller, but it isn't. The man is Kamdeo Singh, his activities are centered in the Begusarai district of Bihar, and his hobby is to fight communists and 'bless' politicians during elections. Unquote ........... The refinery township was like an oasis in that jungle ruled by ruffians. We were lucky that nothing untoward happened in our township. We too avoided frequenting Begusarai town. As I was captain of Refinery football team, so during football season I had to confront some ruffians during the matches with local outfits. I was lucky to have Gopal Prasad Singh a refinery employee and part time Ganja smuggler as my sidekick in the football team; he acted as my bodyguard. Gopal’s trucks used to carry ganja for Kam Deo Singh. After I left, Indian Oil Gopal’s service was terminated from refinery, as there was police warrant against him. I must admit that Barauni Refinery posting made me a professional engineer from a college student and made me bold to face any kind of challenge, be it physical or mental. I guess rubbing shoulder with toughs transformed me. In 1978 i left Indian Oil Corporation for BHEL. I was offered New Delhi posting but i opted for project posting. My project stint started with Panipat posting in 1978 and then Singrauli Superthermal Power Station of NTPC, Wanakbori Thermal Power Station of Gujrat Electricity board,Vizag steel plant, Farakka Superthermal Power Station of NTPC. From 1978 to 1994 I was posted at project sites and faced adverse conditions day and night. My only son went through 8 different schools as i was moving with my family. The Barauni experience came handy in tackling technical and human issues. Yes i was confrontd by toughs in every site but it hardly deterred me in carrying out my task towards the set goal. It is true that " The tough time does not last but tough people do."

জিরো মাইল

60 দশকের শেষ থেকে 70 দশক এর শেষ অব্দি প্রায় 11 বছর আমি Indian Oil Corporation এর Barauni Refinery তে পোস্টেড ছিলাম।
তখন বেগুসরাই এক বিভীষিখা, খুন,ডাকাতি প্রায়।
আমরা township এ সব সময় সাবধান থাকতাম।আমরা চাইতাম আমাদের ট্রান্সফার জেন Baroda Refinery তে হয়।
আমরা বলা বলি করতাম বেগুসরাই তে 100 টাকার জন্য প্রাণ নিয়ে নেবে কিন্তু গুজরাটে 100 টাকার জন্য প্রাণ দিয়ে দেবে।
বেগুসরাই ডিস্ট্রিক্ট এর জিরো মাইল township থেকে প্রায় 5 কিলোমিটার। আসাম থেকে হাইওয়ে নর্থ বেঙ্গল হয়ে বিহার এ ঢুকছে সেই হাইওয়ে জিরো মাইল এ দিল্লি র হাইওয়ে কে কাটছে মোকামা ব্রিজের আগে।
এই জিরো মাইল এক কুখ্যাত জায়গা। ছড়িয়ে ছিটিয়ে বেশ কিছু ধাবা রাস্তার দু দিকে।
তখন ব্যাচেলার ছিলাম সাহস বেশি,  রাতনাম, রঘু, আইয়ের এর সঙ্গে কখন কখন রাত 12 টায় ওই ধাবা তে খাবার এর জন্য যেতাম। এটা অবশ্য সাহস নয় এটা দুঃসাহস।
পরে ওই জিরো মাইল এর এক ঘটনার পর আমাদের সাহস হয়নি রাত্তিরে যাওয়া।
ঘটনা টা এই রকম।
এক ধাবায় দুজন মুখ মুখি খাবার খাচ্ছে কেউ কাউকে চেনে না, একেবারে অজানা।
দূরে রেডিও তে পপুলার হিন্দি গান "বো ল তেরে সাথে ক্যায় সালুক কিয়া যায়, মার দিয়া যায় ইয়া ছোড দিয়া যায়।" বাজছে।
তখন হঠাৎ ওদের মধ্যে যে মাতাল ছিল এক রিভলভার বার করে অন্য জনের দিকে টিপ করে বলল জোরে জোরে "বোল তেরে সাথ কয়া সলুক কিয়া যায়।"
অন্য আর এক টেবিলে এক মাতাল বসেছিল, সে এই শুনে চেঁচি এ বলল,"মারা দিয়া যায়"
বাস তখন এই রিভলভার ধারি মাতাল হাঁসতে হাঁসতে গুলি চালিয়ে দিল।
পরে অবশ্য পুলিশ এসে ধরে নিয়ে যায় কিন্তু এই ঘটনার পর আমাদের জিরো মাইল এর পেরস্পেক্টিভ বদলে যায়।
আমরা যাওয়া বন্ধ করে দি।
আমরা তখন বেগুসরাই কে চম্বল বলতাম। এখনো কিছু বদলায় নি। শেষ যখন 2000 এ refinery তে কোনো কাজে যাই তখন দেখি township ঘিরে দেয়াল তোলা যেটা আমি যখন ছিলাম ছিল না।
কিছু দিন আগেই এক engineer তার গাড়ি তে তেল ভরাছিল township এর কাছেই পেট্রোল পাম্পে। সদ্য বিকেল, ওকে গুলি করে মেরে দিয়ে দুস্কৃতি ওর গাড়ি টা নিয়ে চম্পট।
এখন যখন ওই সব দিন ভাবি তখন ভাবি কি করে আমি 11 টা বছর ওই রকম জায়গায় কাটালাম।
এই রকম কিছু ঘটনা ছাড়া দিন ভালই কেটেছিল। 1978 এ IOC ছেড়ে BHEL জয়ন করি। 

Naak dakaa

আমি তখন Indian Oil এর Barauni Refinery তে কর্মরত। Power Plant এর শিফট ইনচার্জ। স্ত্রী বাপের বাড়ি আর আমি shift ডিউটি ঘুরে ফিরে morning, evening আর night করে যাচ্ছি।ছোট বাংলো, সামনে পেছনে বাগান township এ। Breakfast নিজে বানায়ী ,লাঞ্চ আর রাতের খাবার গেস্ট হাউসে। সেদিন সকালে চা খেতে খেতে খবরের কাগজ পড়ছি। আগের দিন জেনারেল শিফট ছিল আর সেদিন evening shift এ যাব। গেট খোলার আওয়াজ পেলাম। দরজায় calling বেল, উঠে দরজা খুললাম। দুজন পুলিশ মাঝে কোমরে দড়ি বাঁধা এক ছোকরা। "কি ব্যাপার" "ও Tandon এর বাড়িতে চুরি করতে ধরা পড়েছে।ও বলছে আপনার বাড়ি তেও চুরি করেছে।" পুলিশের জবাব। "চুরি? কই না তো।তবু দেখি, দাড়ান।" দু বেডরুম চেক করলাম। দেখি আমার money ব্যাগটা আমার পালঙের তলায়।খুব একটা অবাক হলাম না কারণ অনেক সময় আমি ব্যাগটা ড্রেসিং টেবিলে ছুঁড়ে দি, বাউন্স করে তলায় চলে গেছে। জানলা গুলোর শিক ঠিক টাক আছে। ফিরে পুলিশ কে বললাম কই কিছু তো চুরি যায়নি। আমি একটু বিরক্ত হচ্ছিলাম কারণ আমার সময় নষ্ট হচ্ছিল ওই বজ্জাতের জন্য। একটু ঝাঝিঁ এ চোর কে বললাম "কি করে ঢুকলী আর কি চুরি করেছিস?" সব কথা বার্তা হিন্দি তে হচ্ছিল। চোর কে গুঁতো দিয়ে পুলিশ বললো " বল শুরু থেকে"। " আমি আপনার বেডরুম এর skylight দিয়ে ঢুকেছি।" "Skylight? কি করে সম্ভব ওই দুটো রডের মাঝখান দিয়ে" "আমাদের ও সন্দেহ হয়েছিল কি করে মাথা গলিয়ে ঢোকে" পুলিশ এক গাল হেঁসে বলল। "ও আমাদের মাথা ঢুকিয়ে Tandon এর বাড়ি তে দেখিয়েছে কি করে ভিতরে গেছে"। " সে তো বুঝলাম কিন্তু আমার বাড়িতে কি চুরি করেছিস?" "আমি কাল মাঝ রাতে আপনার skylight দিয়ে আপনার বেডরুম এ ঢুকি। আপনি তখন বেহুঁশ ঘুমাচ্ছেন, আমি ধিরে ধিরে খুঁজতে থাকি কি চুরি করব। Godrej আলমারি তালা লাগা। ড্রেসিং টেবিলে money bag দেখলাম। ওটা নিলাম। আমি হতভম্ব, এত কিছু হয়ে যাচ্ছে আর আমি বেহুঁশ। "তার পর?" "হঠাৎ আপনার নাক ডাকার শব্দ বন্ধ, আমি ভাবলাম আপনি আওয়াজ পে উঠে গেছেছেন, আমি সোজা bag নিয়ে আপনার পালঙের তলায়।" আমি ভাবতে লাগলাম কি ভয়ঙ্কর, আমি ওপরে পালঙে আর চোর ফ্লোরে আমার ঠিক নীচে। মনে পড়ল রাত্তিরে একবার গা টা শির শির করে উঠেছিল। ঘুমটা ভেঙে গেছিলো কিন্তু তখন ভাতেও পারিনি যে ওই বেটা আমার পালঙের তলায়। "তারপর?" "একটু পরেই আপনার নাক ডাকার শব্দ পেলাম।আপনার ব্যাগে দুটো 100 টাকার নোট আর কিছু খুচরো ছিল। আমি নোট দুট নিয়ে ব্যাগ টা পালঙের তলায় ছেড়ে দিলাম।তারপর skylight দিয়ে বেরিয়ে গেলাম।" আমি বেডরুম থেকে money bag টা নিয়ে আসলাম। সত্তিত আমার 200 টাকা গায়েব। পুলিশ দের জানালাম টাকা চুরি গেছে। গিন্নি প্রায় আমাকে বলতো আমি নাক ডাকিয়ে ঘুময়ী কিন্তু আমি বিশ্বাস করতাম না।

Lesson of life

Lesson of life

Our learning does not stop , begins from the time we are born, those who are observant they learn more about life.

The above observation was by Samarananad , my alter ego on the ghats of Varanasi.

“Yes” I said and added “After graduating from IIT my real first hand lesson was learnt in Indian Oil Company’s Barauni Refinery from my workers and officers.”

-Is It? Give me some examples, Samaranand smilingly asked.

Ok, here are some which I vividly recall.

Kedar Singh…our jeep driver

He was a ruffian but was the best person around for emergencies. He would not attend his duty regularly, leave the key of the jeep with the officers and he would vanish. I remember it was a club night day, the Last Saturday of the month, I was a bachelor those days. I was tending the bar, it was about 10 in the night, Kedar Singh came laughing to me at the club and said,”There is breakdown of a pump motor in OMS (oil handling station) and no standby so I better rush.”’

There was no choice I got up in the jeep and asked him to start picking up riggers and technicians from their quarters or shanties. Picking up rigger from a slums near the refinery was the toughest. It was summer time and all were sleeping on charpais in the open and to escape from the bites of mosquitoes they were all wrapped in sheets from foot to head. Kedar Singh nonchalantly started lifting the sheets of those sleeping toughs from one end. Abusing us those guys would shout at us but no effect on Kedar he would just say,”Ok,go to sleep yar!”’ then proceed to the next. This way we could ultimately locate Amar Singh and Sucha Singh from those wrapped up bodies which were looking like dead bodies lying in a row.

Yes, we finally managed to drag a spare motor, removed the failed motor by working whole night with Kedar Singh giving hand to the riggers, a total team work.

This taught me that though Kedar Singh appeared to be a wayward fellow but at the time of emergency he got transformed to a work devil.I guess everyone has that good and evil both in them, it all depends on us to churn out that good .

Chaubey…the boiler operator

He was through and through a crook from UP. Those days I was a shift charge engineer of the captive power plant. It was my turn to prepare quarterly shift rota of operators. A complaint came from all the boiler operators that why Chaubey should not be given duty on Sunday, all the operators get their weekly off days by rotation from Monaday to Sunday. On checking I found that by showing a reason that he had to attend some Ayurvedic course on Sunday he wanted off and which was agreed by the rest 3 shift charge engineers. So I told all other operators “ You guys don’t want him to enjoy Sundays, is that the case?”

-No,Sir you have not caught the design of that wily character, by taking off on Sunday he makes sure that he is on duty on declared holidays so that he gets 4 times his normal wage as overtime than 2 times the wage on other days as overtime. There were 10 holidays in a year those days so his getting double overtime was certain, as holidays are declared on working days.

I started scratching my head when I understood the game plan, it was diabolical.
Apparently it looked that he was pursuing higher study but the devil had his ulterior agenda. 

So I learnt, what you see on the surface is not the actual, one has to go  deeper while dealing with human being. I guess that is what human engineering is all about.

AP Sahay….smooth technician

He was a typical smooth guy with ever smiling attitude. He would sell clothes at half the cost to his fellow workers. I asked him how he managed to do that. He told in hushed voice, “That’s a secret Sir, I can’t divulge.”

Later on some other operators told me that he had a relative who worked as a salesman in a cloth store in Patna.He would go to purchase cloth in that shop when his that relative would cut some extra cloth and pack the same with his purchased cloth. A simple stealing. Knowing this I shifted him from a job where he was fleecing the truck drivers to some inocuous  post in a substation. After a few months I got a feedback that there too he was making money. I asked them how it was possible.

-Sir, a new cable is being laid by a contractor and there he threatened them he would cut the supply to the temporary construction switchboard if he was not given money.

So the lesson is simple a crook with greed for money would always find out a way, or a dog’s tail cannot be straightened. So no use wasting time to correct such characters.

Bishwanath Prasad….Electrician grade 3

The most reliable technician I ever had. He was good in tracing fault in control circuits. In his locker he would keep copies of all vital circuit diagrams plus all kind of spare contactors,relays,jumpers etc so that for any minor repair he  would have those handy at odd hours when the store would be closed.

This practice of Bishwanath helped me to solve bigger problems. In my office I would keep copies of all circuits plus in the almirah would store fast moving spares like bearings, sleeves etc. other than electrical items.

Of course i must admit one particular lesson told to us by our GM Mr.R N Bhatnagar still lingers in my mind and which i have practiced maximum. He told, " If you find a man not suitable for his job then find a job for which he is suitable. His not delivering the task is the fault of manager!"

‘’True all those characters you mentioned are specimens in their own genre and roughly get classified for future reference. These observation of human nature are very important while dealing with people.” That was the stoic response of Samaranand.

-I must admit that at Barauni i became a professional before that i was living an extended student life as a Trainee Engineer of the refinery.May be in next meeting I would share more of my people observation, saying this I got up and started walking towards the boat in Dashashwamedh ghat.

---

Dead Firangee's overcoat

Dead firangee’s overcoat

…………………………..

The months of December, January ,February would be very cold in Barauni Refinery and on the top of that attending night shift would be an ordeal. This happened sometimes in 1974 or so. I was posted as shift charge engineer for running the captive power plant of the refinery. The shift charge engineer would make round of the power plant starting with turbine hall,boile,water treatment plant, fuel oil station etc. These rounds in morning and partly in evening shift during winter was tolerable but in the night shift when temperature dropped to 4 something then taking round becomes a torture. The shift charge engineer is the lonely guy who makes a few rounds to check that all the equipment are running and operators are not sleeping during duty hours.

During winter I found most of the workers and officers would come wearing overcoat for shift duty. On inquiry found out that there was a guy called Bhagat who arranged those garments from Nepal. On checking I found those were to be second hand. To hell with second hand I too ordered one against all protests from my wife, I reasoned with her that such overcoats were not easily available in India and that too I would be wearing during night shift and keep that in my office almirah.

That guy got one grey colored tweed overcoat for me, it looked new. My operators joked with me saying now I too would be wearing a dead firangee’s overcoat. I should be careful that firangee should not claim his coat. No such thing happened to me, no nightmares or shadowy figure looming by the side of me during night shift.

One day I was on my round and reached the fuel oil pump house which was the farthest then, the operator Prasad got up and said, “Anything wrong?’’

“No ,why you ask?”

“One hour back I saw you going to the tank area.”’

“What nonsense! I have come now only.Have you been taking ganja on duty.’” I was irritated. Frankly one hour back I dosed off while reading a novel which I brought to keep myself awake.

Next night while I was taking round of water treatment plant then the operator came running, “Sir, everything is alright. You can see both cation and anion filters are ready after flushing.”

“Yes I have checked the water quality so what is your worry?”

“No sir I saw you near the tank half an hour back so thought something is wrong.”

“You saw me half an hour back? Are you mad, this is my first round.’

I did not bother much but then next week too the same story was repeated, that is seeing me in the plant when I was actually in my office. They remembered me wearing that overcoat walking around the plant. I discussed this with my operators, they advised me to keep Hanuman Chalisa in my pocket. One of them had a spare copy of chalisa and gave that to me.

Next fortnight there was no sighting of me and I was also using the overcoat sparingly. From the shift charge engineers room to the turbine hall there was á running verandah and it was a short walk I so would not be wearing the overcoat while going to turbine hall. My overcoat would be slung on my chair. During one of the  night shifts I was returning from my round of turbine hall walking towards my room, from the verandah one could see the desk of shift charge engineer through the window of the shift charge engineer’s room. I could see someone wearing the overcoat was hunched on my desk. The sight made me to stop on my track, I was getting shivers. I slowly walked towards my room which was adjacent to the main control room. I called out the name of my A grade operator Ansari from the central control room. Both of us stood at the door of my room. There was no one and my overcoat was hanging at the back of my chair as I had left. I was shaken so I went with Ansari to the control room. Was I hallucinating? I called some of the prominent operators for a discussion on this strange happening of sighting me when I was actually not there and then my seeing someone wearing my overcoat hunched on my desk. S P Singh declared everything was normal in my room who in the meanwhile had gone to my room to check.

The big question was should I get rid of the overcoat. I decided to sell off the overcoat to H P Sahay at half price. Nothing happened after that, I started bringing a woolen wrapper which I would wrap around my jacket during night shift. I spent my 3 years of shift peacefully without any abnormal sighting.

I resigned from refinery to join BHEL, during the farewell H P Sahay came to me with a big smile and said, “Sir I am not wearing that overcoat, we never wanted you to wear an old coat so we all planned to fool you in believing that coat was cursed. So the operators at various points were coached to say that they have seen you. That day when you saw someone sitting at your desk, that was me. By the time you came near the room I hid below the desk, Ansari was waiting for your call. I hope you will pardon us for the prank we pulled on you so that you don’t wear someone’s discarded overcoat. We believe that those foreign tourists give these away to the locals who in turn wash and spray essence to make these attractive.”

I let out a sigh of relief as the happenings of those nights would have still haunted me.

I patted H P, I knew he was a mischievous fellow and I had to upbraid him for his naughty actions against our Chief Engineer Subramanium but that’s another story for another day. 

A little push

A little push

……………………

“Sir, someone wants to meet you.”

I was in my chamber in Chatterjee International when my PA Late S N Bose came in.

“Who?” I asked.

Bose ushered in a middle aged gentleman dressed nattily.

“Sir, I am Arjun.” That gentleman said and then he became emotional, with tears in his eyes touched my feet. He broke down and said, “I have been looking for you for a long time.”

I could not believe my eyes, Arjun whom I knew was a strapling young man.

I still remember vividly the first day when I met Arjun in the canteen of Barauni Refinery.

Me,Bhatia and Verma like every day were there in the canteen for our morning tea when I noticed a young man hardly of 17/18 yrs or so of age in shorts was busy serving the clients. He was very actively running between the tables. I asked Nazareth, the manager of the canteen about that young man. He informed me that he had come recently from Bengal with an oil tanker driver.

Next day I called that young man to find more about him. After talking to him I came to know his name and how he had chanced upon a Sardarji oil tanker driver at Haldia and came away looking for a job opportunity. Thus Arjun landed in the canteen of Barauni Refinery.

This was sometimes in late 1975 when construction of Indian Oil’s Haldia refinery was in full swing. My father in law was Chief Engineer in Haldia Refinery then and my son was just born. I used to visit Haldia frequently those days as my wife was with her parents there.

I was surprised that inspite of a massive construction work going on next door Arjun had to leave the state as he could not land a job there. I took a pity on him and told him, “Next time when I go to Haldia I will take you with me and try to fix a job for you.”

He readily agreed.

I paid him for his train fare from Barauni to Calcutta plus bus fare up to Haldia and gave him my father in laws' address.

As planned I reached Haldia and Arjun came and met me. His village was hardly 20kms away. Munshida who was Deputy Manager Civil in Haldia Refinery was very close to me. I requested him to fix up Arjun with some labor contractor and he did so. Arjun started working as a laborer in the civil construction, would often visit my father in law’s bungalow to meet me. He used to bring wooden village toys for my son.Ín front of the bungalow he planted a palm tree which he brought from his village. The time passed on I resigned from IOC in 1978 and lost touch with Arjun.

That day in 1996 that was after 21 years he was standing in front of me narrating his progress in life.

From a daily labor he became a labor supplier. From there he became a civil contractor. He got married and seen to it that his younger brothers got good education. His one younger brother joined refinery as operator. He constructed a double storied house in place of that thatched roof hut which I visited during my stay in Haldia, he was owning a car and a motor bike. Later on my attendant Subhash who stays near Arjun’s village told me that he was politically strong too.

I was impressed by his progress in life, his hard work and entrepreneurship took him to a different level. I was just an enabler; rest was his hard work and determination.

I had a chance to visit Haldia Refinery in connection with BHEL work in 1998, the bungalow where my father in law was staying is very close to the IOC,Guest House. In the evening I walked down to the bungalow and found that the palm tree planted by Arjun has grown tall symbolizing Arjun’s progress. All the memories connected with that bungalow started flooding in my mind, in the moonlight I could see the Haldi River behind the bungalow flowing quietly towards the sea reminding the flow of time.

Many young men in India like Arjun are waiting for just a break and then there is no looking back for them. Also there are those who are born in privileged family and got all right breaks but could not achieve much. Recently in the company with which I am associated now there were interviews for the recruitment of fresh engineers. All the candidates were from private engineering colleges and must be from fairly well to do families. Some of them had come with their mothers. The senior officers who took their interview informed me that they could not find a single one up to the mark so did not select any.Possibly some  of these rejected candidates may take up some other profession and shine, we know many of these are forced to do engineering by their ambitious parents whereas their calling may lie somewhere else.

I am still learning

I am still learning

……………………………

I read somewhere if an operating manual for human being is to be made then how many volumes would it be. We operate without any operating manual; we just pick up some wisdom on the go and tend to use those. Like they say if one is habituated in hammer then he sees every problem as nail jutting out and hammers it down, kind of same solution for all problems.

That is too simplistic, one solution for all problems !

While growing up we watch our parents operating and from there learning starts. I have watched my mother silently helping people without expecting any return…following the principle of “Karmanye vadhikaraste Ma Phaleshu Kadachana,”( You have the right to work only but never to its fruits)..tried to emulate her principles in life but I don’t know how far I could do that.

My father would often say in Hindi “ Na bahni na bhayeeya,subse bada rupayeeya ( most important is money and not brothers and sisters)….I used this operating principle as a caution against the bad influence of money or tried to make money as secondary goal, I always believed knowledge is power.

When we were passing out from IIT, Kharagpur we were cautioned by our professor of controls Mr.Gopalratnam about our approach to job. He said,” Now you all will be looking for job and many of you will not get the job what you want. Remember it is something like you may not marry the girl you love but you got to love the girl you marry. So whatever job you get you must do your best to do that job. Best of luck.”

That little bit of gyan helped me in adapting to all kind of situations and I am sure most of you out there must be doing the same.

While allotting work to my subordinates the word of our GM Mr.R N Bhatnagar in IOC,Barauni always rings in my ear. He said ,”If you find a man not suitable for his job then it is your duty to find a job for which he is suitable.”

That was the most important advice I ever got on job. Often we blame a worker not able to carry out a given task but have we ever tried to find out his strength area. This way we have forced many people to become useless.

My very first management book which i read was The Peters Principle.The Peter Principle is based on the notion that employees will get promoted as long as they are competent, but at some point will fail to get promoted beyond a certain job because it has become too challenging for them. Employees rise to their level of incompetence and stay there. Over time, every position in the hierarchy will be filled by someone who is not competent enough to carry out his or her new duties.  . The classic example is that when an expert is promoted as overall in charge then he may fail in taking work from a team, whereas individually he was excellent in his work. This book and One Minute manger series by Kenneth Blanchard and Spencer Johnson have been very useful in understanding the inter-layer of people management. I must admit I was introduced to The One Minute Management series by my colleague Jagannathan in Vizag.

The next book which influenced me most was “The seven habits of highly effective people” by Stephen Covey. This book grabs you by ball from the preface itself. I had gone to Hubara site in Oman where BHEL was carrying out a project for PDO. One of the British consultants of the customer was having some personal problem with his girlfriend back home. He started discussing that in the bar of the guest house in the oasis. He was seeking my advice, I gave him the book “7 habits…” and said, “ I think you will find answer to your problem in this book.”

Next evening he came excitedly to me with the book and said,” Mr.Roy I found the answer in the first chapter itself.”

I left the book with him and advised him after finishing the book he can handover that to my site people. After a few years Shankaranaryan one of the engineers working there informed me practically all of them have read the book. I felt satisfied and realized the far reaching power of a book.

Slowly Samaranandji started taking shape , postulation by my alter ego started coming as management principle.

Samaranandji would often say employees operate on two principles namely WIIFM and SYA.

WIIIFM; expanded as ‘What is in it for me’ ….if boss is shrewd then he will see through the game and will use proper administrative medicine to take work out of such person. Here the employee sees there is gain for him then only he acts. Sadly that is the story with most of the people because we don’t try to establish systems with date lines.

SYA; expanded a “Save your ass”…..these employees will not act. They feel if by chance they commit any mistake then they would be hauled up. So they are busy in passing on the buck.They avoid taking decision.

A good manager has to observe and classify his subordinates’ and then work out strategy to take work out of them.

Samaranandji’s most important lesson has been “Yes also suits me No also suits me.” This principle is based on magnetic lines of forces. I become iron filing and my boss or subordinate becomes magnet. If he takes the position of “Broad side on” then as iron filing I align accordingly. If he takes “End on” position then I realign myself accordingly. It simply means I am ready with multi option and will use those as per your position of “Yes” or “No”. Here i give the first choice to my counterpart who can be anyone...
You don't have to paint a man black but instead paint the background white....this means do a better job than other person instead back biting...
I was influenced by the books of Peter Drucker, the original management Guru, Tom Peters who wrote in Search of Excellence, Zig Ziggler the motivational writer from whose book many contents have been lifted by Shiv Khera...
Everyday is a learning day.....even after my retirement i am learning....i liked what our MD ,P P Gupta( owner of Techno Electric Engg Co, MBA from IIM,Ahmedabad) often says about engineers and managers.."woh language level mein hi reh jatey"....means people seldom go to the depth but do surface scratching, something like reading out the headlines without understanding the full detail, i guess this is the general malady which makes us more subjective than objective...
While playing golf i realized the importance of own limits and then trying to maximise the gain within those limits...3 Cs of the game..Concentrate,Control and Confidence....i started playing Golf at the age of 62 so the age is no bar to start..... 
In my part i tried to capture my experience in management by writing 2 Hindi books...'Management ke saral nuskhe" and "Management ke sabak"...the title of my  English books "Take it or leave it" and "Wide Angle".....well this article is also take it or leave it type for the readers...
You may agree or disagree the choice is yours ...as i wrote earlier both suits me "Yes" or "No"...after all it is a binary world...

My bachelor pad

My bachelor pad

As a bachelor staying in a company hostel, food was not a problem but once I was allotted a quarter organizing daily food became my biggest challenge in Barauni Refinery of IOC. For the last four years of my bachelorhood I kept servant who would cook food and maintain the house for me.

My very first servant was Hafiz , son of Haroon who was the helper in my electrical maintenance department of the refinery. He was an excellent cook of Moghlai dishes and South Indian delicacies like Idli,Dosa,Vada etc. Me being bachelor and with an excellent cook attracted all my friends to my flat, thus my dwelling was the natural choice for a place for adda. My brothers and sisters whoever had visited me those days still remember cooking of Hafiz. Hafiz was my longest serving cook ,he was with me for about two years.

For a short while I was without a cook when Hafiz left for a greener pasture. I was toggling between the  refinery guest house and a nearby Rajasthani restaurant for lunch and dinner, I was not happy with that arrangement so was in the lookout for a suitable servant.

It was a Sunday morning; I was in my drawing room when I heard the calling bell. I got up and opened the door.

“Namaste!” A well built young man older than me in shabby clothes greeted.

“Yes, what do you want?”

“Sir, I understand you are looking for a cook?”

“Yes.” I looked suspiciously at him because I was looking for someone younger and also he did not look servant type.

“Sir, I can cook and will keep the house clean. I need the job badly so please give me a chance.”

“Ok, I will try you for a month. Move in by evening, in the meanwhile I will do marketing for dinner.”

That was the entry of my second servant Raghav Singh. His cooking was no match to Hafiz’s cooking but at least his coming made my life smooth; I did not have to scrounge around for food. My life fell in old rhythm of refinery ,club, bachelor party and so on.

I was in the first floor and my ground floor neighbor was Yadav who was my batch mate but was the oldest in our trainee group, was married with a kid when he joined. His brothers were staying with him, they were ruffians. From my balcony I used to watch them play football in the ground in front of my flat. Very often both the brothers would pick up fight with other players, fights were pretty violent. I noticed Raghav too started playing football with them when I was away for work. When I first found him playing he was embarrassed, but I encouraged him to play. I did not mind as long as he did his duty. It was winter time so on Sundays they would play in the afternoon. Raghav after serving me lunch would join them. I found that Yadav duo was not meddling with Raghav much during the game. Raghav was a bully in the field and would dash forward with the ball by using his brute force. I could see the Yadav brothers got a taste of their own medicine from Raghav. Surprisingly they did not have the guts to complain against Raghav, I too felt happy that now instead of a good cook I had a tough guy in my house as my servant.

Life was going on like that for a while but then one day after return from my work I found Raghav was waiting for me with his luggage packed.

I thought he must have got some urgent message so leaving for his village temporarily.

He bent down to touch my feet, I stepped back. Outwardly he was looking radiant.

“Sir, I am leaving you.” He said with a bright smile.

“Did you get a better job? If you want we can consider a rise for you.”

“No sir during my difficult time you gave shelter, I had no place to go.”

“Then why are you leaving?”

“I did not want to tell you but as you are insisting so I must tell you.” He said conspiringly.

“I was absconding from police; some people lodged a false police case against me for robbery.”

“You mean there was a warrant against you?” I was shocked but did not show that.

“Yes, it is alright now, I got information that everything is taken care, it is safe for me to return. I must thank you again for providing shelter.” He picked up his luggage and left .

I was shell-shocked; I sat down in half stupor thinking about the whole affair. I never noticed any unnatural behavior in him during his stay; he did his duty diligently though his cooking was not of Hafiz’s standard. I was uneasy to think that he was masquerading as cook in my house when the police was looking out for him. Though he presented me with a story but where was the veracity of what he had said. I had unknowingly given shelter to a law breaker; he could have been a habitual one too though did not do any harm to me or indulge in any illegal activity during his stay with me. For a few weeks after his departure I was tense, waiting for a visit from the local thana. Fortunately nothing like that happened.

Begusarai ,the nearest town was a notorious area, the area was full of antisocial elements, looking back today I realize that it was foolhardy in my part to keep someone in my house about whom I knew nothing. Well that was the time of my bachelorhood; there was a streak of recklessness in me, many a time my seniors cautioned me about my carefree way of life.

Right Boss

Right boss

………

I knocked on the door of the chamber.

“Come in” I could hear Mr.Hajela calling out.

“Were you searching for me?” I asked with curiosity as I had just joined duty after spending 15 days of leave with my parents in Delhi.

“Bolt the door, I don’t want anyone to enter now.”

I was a bit apprehensive but as commanded I bolted the door from inside and sat down in front of his desk.

He opened his drawer, took out my leave application and said, “I have not sent this to the personal department yet. You said you don’t have enough leave so a part will be without pay.”

“Yes sir,” I said.

Then he did a surprising thing which I remember still to this date. He just tore off my application and said, “Now you have your leave and no pay cut.”

I became emotional by his that gesture and got up to shake his hand.

He said “I know I have called you in the dead of night to attend emergency in the plant and every time you have come willingly even leaving club parties. This is your reward, but then you know you have many types of friends so don’t share this with anyone.”

I thanked him profusely with tears in my eyes.

“Now go concentrate in your work.”

That was Mr.Hajela Deputy Chief in Electrical maintenance and my boss in Barauni Refinery, IOC. That action of his on that day made me more loyal to him. He was a flamboyant character and loved clubbing. In the club bar we were like friends, the barrier of boss and subordinate was breached there.

Coking unit was one of the vital plants of the refinery and I was responsible for electrical maintenance of that unit. I was often called in the night to attend failure of some circuit or of some drive motor. Due to some reason if I was not able to restore the fault quickly then I would find Mr.Hajela standing behind me to give moral support.

During office hours he would come by his official jeep and then would hand over it for our use. Kedar Singh, the driver will come to report to me with his log book. It was Kedar Singh who would pick me up from my quarter or from officer’s club in the night for attending emergency break downs.

I was confident that Mr.Hajela was there behind me always, a kind of blind faith. That faith gave me confidence to assure my technicians of me being there for their difficult times. That faith worked like magic, I could get their unadulterated loyalty.

For the sake of overtime payment often workers would delay the repair and put the plant on the edge. In such cases my pet rigger Tarachand would bargain with the workers on my behalf for completing the work as early as possible and he would make sure they get overtime of 5 hours for that day. This formula worked always, I could enter into such unholy nexus for the sake of completion of work because I had the blessings of Mr.Hajela. It was win win situation for both workers as well as for the organization.

On looking back I realize that much of my human engineering skill I learnt from him which I honed further by my diverse experience.

As I started climbing the corporate ladder in IOC and BHEL all those skill learnt in IOC,Barauni Refinery came handy.

The basic takeaway from Mr.Hajela was that the subordinate should feel that there is someone who looks after his interest. The boss is always there to help him with resources in work, in his difficult times, and makes sure that he gets his due appreciation.  I made it my job to align aspirations of my people with the goal of the organization. Finally it is the teamwork which produces the desired results. In short it is the empathy towards people which always gives rich dividend. The final result is mutual trust between boss and the subordinate.

I believe initial character building of an individual takes place by observing his parents and then comes teachers. Down the line somewhere friends play important role but the most important role in work life is played by the first boss. I was lucky that I could get Mr.Hajela as my first boss.

Many years later when I was heading BHEL,Eastern Region Mr.Hajela came to meet me , by that time he had retired as Director of HSCL and joined a private organization.

He was happy to see me in that position and I readily admitted to him that it was him who was responsible for my initiation in handling people and which had helped me to ascend.

Snore Signal

I Know That I Snore, It Is Proven ( Real Incidence)

I woke up with a start in the dead of the night, felt as though someone was there in my bed room. The room was semi dark with the moon light filtering in through the skylight. I was not fully awake but the sensation of someone there in the bedroom was playing in my mind and I fell asleep again.

I got up in the morning and freshened up. As my wife was away to her parent’s house in Haldia, I was alone in my quarter. I prepared tea and breakfast.

This happened in Barauni refinery. The previous night I had slept late so got up late after that eerie experience of feeling someone was there in my bed room. As usual I opened the outer door and found the newspaper tucked on the outside handle of the door .

Indian newspaper of any region gives priority to political news unless otherwise some natural calamity had happened. Those were the days of Jayprakash Narain movement and Bihar was the hot bed. As TV was yet to come so it was left to newspaper or pan shop gossip to cater the latest news, people seldom believed government controlled radio.

I was busy reading newspaper in my drawing room when I heard some commotion outside the gate of my bungalow.

“Mr. Roy” someone called out my name.

I went out and saw there was a policeman with a sturdy guy handcuffed and lot of curious crowd around.

“Yes, what is this all about?” I enquired curiously.

“Sir, this thief tells that last night he entered your bed room through the skylight.”

I looked at the skylight of my bedroom; it was visible from the outside gate.

“No it is not possible for him to wriggle through the skylight and also nothing has been stolen from my house.”

Then I looked at the thief and asked, “When did you enter my bedroom?”

“In the midnight I entered your bed room through that skylight and went near your dressing table. You were in deep sleep. I took your money bag but suddenly I found that you have woken up so I dived below your bed with the money bag.”

“Then?”

“I waited for you to fall asleep; I left the money bag below your bed and went out of the skylight after sometimes.”

I remembered to have found my money bag below my bed that day but nothing was missing from that bag. Any way those days there was hardly anything important in my money bag like credit card, PAN card, club card etc which are integral part of my money bag now.

Then I realized that the strange feeling of last night as though someone else was there in the bed room was true. The unconscious mind must have registered a signal of alien body near me and that premonition woke me up.

I started getting goose pimples then. Keeping an outward cool I said to the police, “Where did you catch him?”

“After unsuccessful attempt in your house he went to Mr. Tandon’s house through the same skylight. His wife is away. Mr.Tandon found him opening the steel almirah with a screw driver. When challenged he hid himself in the bathroom. Then Mr. Tandon locked him in and shouted for help. Thus he was captured.”

“Well I have no charges to press against him as nothing is stolen,” I said absentmindedly to the police man. I was totally unnerved, thanked god that nothing serious had happened to me that night. I replayed the incidence in my mind. There I was in deep sleep and the thief stealthily entered my bed room through the skylight. He told that he put his head first through the bars of the skylight and then the rest of the body. He looked at me with the screw driver and all other instruments in his pocket. He might have chuckled to himself seeing me sleeping helplessly on the bed. He went to the dressing table looking for the key of the Godrej cupboard but he found my money bag on the dressing table. Suddenly he could feel me waking up with my eyes half closed. His nerve cracked, he dived below the bed with the money bag. I was slowly falling back to sleep and that thief was waiting below my bed; he might be lying on his back. Me slowly falling in sleep and he widely awake waiting below the bed for me to fall in sleep. How did he know I fell in sleep, I guess he must have heard me snoring. Well that is it. When he was near the dressing table then he got the signal that I was awake because my snoring stopped. The sound of my snoring has been used as signal by that rascal to plan his actions.

The above incidence conclusively proved that I do snore but friends I keep on contesting this fact whenever my wife points this out to me...so please keep this secret between you and me..cheers