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Lesson Learnt

Rajgarh, as I said, was a large Division comprising eight Ranges. The DFO was assisted by two Assistant Conservators of Forests (ACFs), and I had arrived as the third, even though I was under training, so to say. The DFO, Mr. B S Chauhan, didn’t really know what to do with me. He had still not received any formal posting orders, nor had he received any directions regarding the training I was to be imparted.  One of the ACFs had been given the responsibility of supervising the plantation work in the Division, while the other was responsible for Resin Tapping in the extensive Pine forests in the Division.

A couple of days after I arrived, Mr. Chauhan summoned me to his office. On entering, I was introduced to a diminutive khaki clad individual, who was standing at attention in the middle of the room. “This is Banarsi Dass,” said Mr. Chauhan. “He is going to be your mentor and guide for the next one month. He will teach you all there is to know about nurseries and plantations. Follow all his instructions, and he will make a forester out of you.” The Deputy Ranger, for that was his rank and designation, saluted the DFO and walked to the door, motioning me to follow him. I bade good day to Mr. Chauhan, and followed Banarsi Dass to the Range Office close by. And then I literally followed in his footsteps for almost the entire day, over the next 30 days.

Banarsi Dass, as I have already mentioned, was a diminutive, wizened old man. He had risen from the ranks, and proudly wore the two stars, that depicted his rank, on his shoulders. He was of the old school and wore his uniform with pride. Unlike the other uniformed personnel, he sported a khaki turban with a ‘kulla’ at its centre and a ‘turra’ proudly jutting out on top. The ‘kulla’ was a stiff canvas cone around which the turban was wrapped, and the ‘turra’ was the stiff, starched, fan shaped end of the turban tucked into the centre of the turban. Like his turban, his uniform too was stiffly starched and I never saw a crease out of place when I reported to him each morning for the day’s work. He also carried a ‘ballam’, or short javelin, with a wooden staff and a steel tip. It was as much for protection as for helping him negotiate steep paths.

One day we were standing in the middle of a pine plantation and he asked me to lay out a plot 25 meters square, and count the number of healthy pine seedlings within. With a spacing of 3m X 3m, there should have been 70 odd pits in the area, but I could count only 50. I thought this was what I had heard about – an example of corruption in the Forest Department ! Charge money for digging 70 pits and planting 70 seedlings when, in actual fact, only 50 pits were dug and 50 seedlings planted! Before I could voice my indignation and anger, Banarsi Dass looked into my eyes and handed me his ‘ballam’. “Dig,” he said. “Dig where you think a plant is missing.” I dug the javelin into the soil and heard a ‘clang’ as it struck rock. Again and again I dug the spear into the soil, and struck rock each time. The entire area was rocky, interspersed with pockets of soil, and it was here that the plants had been planted.

Banarsi Dass, that wily old forester, had taught me an important lesson that day … never to jump to conclusions without first ascertaining the facts. It was a lesson that was to serve me well in the later stages of my career, when I made it a habit to carefully ascertain all facts before taking a decision, particularly in administrative matters. This habit saved me from embarrassment many a time …

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