Samir Varma

WHEN THE ADRENALINE DRIES UP: AN IAS PERSPECTIVE “What a fall was there, my countrymen!” Prabhu Dayal's delightful account in The Sunday Statesman of an Ambassador's descent from diplomatic grandeur to the gridlock of Gurgaon made me smile. But in the eternal one-upmanship—and downmanship—of the civil services, I cannot let an IFS officer ten years my junior steal all the thunder! Tehran, Rabat and Kuwait were privileged postings in a diplomatic fairyland which, alas, had to end. And retiring to Gurgaon's Golf Course Road is hardly exile to Siberia! For the IAS, the descent is rather different. The first decade after retirement may disappear into commissions, tribunals and advisory assignments. Some offer meaningful work. Others provide an office, a driver, a visiting card and precious little to do. The ultimate prize is often the government house that comes with the appointment. “Ghar toh rahega na?” is the question batchmates ask with unconcealed interest. Retaining government accommodation is the ultimate badge of continued importance. Eventually, most move to Gurgaon, NOIDA, Mayur Vihar, Vasant Kunj or DDA flats. Life isn't bad. There are helpful neighbours, old friends, lunches at the IIC and batch gatherings at the CSOI. A community that looks after its own, asks for help and usually gets it. But what does an IAS officer really miss? Retirement is a certainty, not an option, however many extensions are granted along the way. What does one miss? Not the bungalow, official car or personal staff who anticipated every need. One learns to buy vegetables from Safal, manage part-time help and occasionally take an Uber or auto when the driver doesn't show up. Everyone adjusts. What is harder to surrender is the ability to get things done. For decades, IAS officers have lived on the adrenaline of making things happen. Joining dots others don't see. Bringing institutions together. Cutting through obstacles, stopping nonsense, anticipating crises, planning something that might transform people's lives—and occasionally pulling it off magnificently. Not every officer succeeds. Some barely try. But exercising authority intelligently, turning ideas into action, is what makes the job absorbing. When the political executive trusts you and gives you independence, it is exhilarating. Wonderful things happen. Embarrassments are foreseen and forestalled. During the Vajpayee and Sheila Dikshit years, I saw political leadership set the direction while giving officers room to initiate, innovate and deliver and protect the government from criticism. It worked quite often- not always..From what one hears, nowadays officers perhaps implement decisions more often than spearhead reform. But even that requires ability and acumen. Governments may centralise decisions, but not the thousands of actions needed to make them work. Policies don't implement themselves. Someone must anticipate problems, coordinate departments, manage resources, persuade reluctant institutions and deliver results. A capable civil service remains indispensable, whatever the political dispensation. The IAS has glaring faults and itself needs reform. Twenty-two years after my own retirement, following several rewarding assignments, the distinction seems clearer than ever to me. The real loss is not of status or privilege. It is of the opportunity to be useful. An Ambassador may miss diplomatic grandeur and participation in transfirmative geopolitical negotiations. An IAS officer however misses something closer to his chest. It is the power to translate ideas into visible action. And perhaps the greater irony is that a country which spends decades developing administrative experience allows so much of it to acquire an expiry date. Irrelevance, not inconvenience, is retirement's most bitter medicine.