Skip to main content

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 …

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Kindly CM

When I reported for duty in Himachal Pradesh, for the first time in my life I came face to face with politicians – from the lowly village ‘Pradhans’ to Members of the Legislative Assembly (MLAs) to Ministers. Prior to joining the Forest Service, I had no idea what a politician was and how much nuisance value one wielded. I had grown up in Army cantonments, where the most important person we saw was the Station Commander, a Brigadier, or, on very rare occasions, a Major General. Yes, I had heard about Presidents and Prime Ministers, but had absolutely no idea about the political hierarchy prevailing at the ground level. So, it came as somewhat of a shock when, at a Van Mahotsava (tree planting festival) at Rajgarh I was confronted by a diminutive individual wearing khadi pyjamas and kurta, and a Gandhi cap, who imperiously asked me where my DFO was. When I asked him who he was, a bulky, uncouth looking person by his side said “You seem to be new here. Don’t you recognize Mr. ZS, the MLA...
5 comments
Read more

The Real Boss

Taklech, as I have already said, was a small village with some 20 odd houses, a solitary grocery shop, and a Middle school. On days when I was not on tour, I would go down to the village and play volleyball with the two teachers and a few village boys. One day I invited the two teachers and the Principal of the school, one Mr. Pathania, to share a meal with me the coming Sunday, at the Forest Rest House. On the appointed day, I asked the FRH chowkidar, who was also the cook, to prepare a meal for four and sat in the verandah, waiting for my guests to turn up. When they did not turn up till 4 pm, I went down to their lodgings to see what was wrong. I found them preparing their evening meal, with Mr. Pathania stoking the fire, and one of the others kneading the dough. When I asked why they had not turned up for lunch, they confessed that they thought I had been having fun at their expense. They really did not believe that a senior officer, even one under training, would ...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Fearless Crusader

I have just heard of the demise of Mr. B S Chauhan, the gentleman who was the DFO at Rajgarh when I joined there in February 1974. I have already mentioned how much in awe of him I was. He was a towering personality both literally and figuratively. Well over 6 feet in height and sporting an imposing moustache, Mr. Chauhan instilled ready respect amongst his juniors and subordinates and fear in minds of wrongdoers. His tours of inspection were awaited with dread by the field staff. Many a story was told of his long walks in the forests and his keen eye for detail. He had the nasty habit of stopping the jeep and getting off where he was least expected, hopping over the fence of the plantation, and then taking a tour of inspection, with the Range Officer and other staff trailing behind him. Needless to say, the area near the entry to the plantations was always well looked after with the grass and bushes kept in check and the saplings well looked after. The far corners of the plantati...
3 comments
Read more