Kerfuffle

Some days are good, and some days, I don't remember. I am sure all of them must have something of note, though. That's the district training in a nutshell.

Since I last wrote about my field training, a lot has changed globally. India crashed out of T20 World Cup, the central government presented its budget, and we even celebrated Pathan. However, the quaint town of Kakinada has taken a vow to stay within 20° C ± 1°. I have no complaints, in any case. It keeps me sane. Besides, some rants have to be left for the summer. 

In the intervening period, I have been trained in many departments. When I visit them, I usually invite two kinds of reactions. Few officials welcome me with open arms. They love sharing their wisdom and solutions to existing problems with me. They make an effort to ensure I actually understand the nitty-gritty. A few others hate that I disrupt their routines. They are set in their pattern, and any divergence makes them uncomfortable. Getting information out from them is akin to digging into the Sahara desert hoping to find water, except the latter is easier.

When I finally call it a day, there are again two kinds of reactions. The bunch of officials I could impress with some question or something I said in broken Telugu form a happy lot. In their happiness, they some time share some unique insight as if I had finally earned it. The grumpy lot finds me unable to handle the gruel of the department they have worked in for years. Either way, like the people on the footpath relieved at the sight of Salman Khan entering his house, both are happier when I leave.

I am still living out of a guest house. Our socialization has molded us to treat the guest house as a temporary stay. After all these months, I haven't yet unpacked all my bags; the photo frames which were going to be reminders of good times still lie in them. There is nothing personal to my room yet, and I have no heart to treat a guest house as home. Maybe I'll have that capacity a few years into the service. 

Or I may have already started accepting the nomadic life of the service. There were times when I would shudder at the thought of traveling from Gurgaon to Noida. Now I can travel from Kakinada to Vijayawada like an aspirant taking the metro from Patel Nagar to Karol Bagh. I have already identified suitable food joints on the way from Vijayawada to Kakinada and Kakinada to Vizag. 

Leo Tolstoy begins his "Anna Karenina" with a line I have grown fond of - "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." Dare I say, this applies to civil servants too. Would my way be unique or similar to the happier ones? I am yet to understand. To be able to write this makes me optimistic, though.