Mr.Shaibal Kumar Mukherjee

27.4.1941 -
28.01.2023

Om Shanti

My dearest Baba, Mr. Shaibal Kumar Mukherjee breathed his last at 2:30 PM on the 28th of January in Indore, Madhya Pradesh a year ago.  Baba had retired from the IAS (Uttar Pradesh cadre) after serving the nation for over three decades with great distinction and honour. On the solemn occasion of his first death anniversary, a special prayer ceremony and feast for the underprivileged was organised to pray for the continued peace of the departed soul. The famed Shree Rameshwaram Jyotirlinga Shivam Temple in Rameshwaram, Tamil Nadu was a very appropriate venue for this event.

    I have penned a long form tribute to celebrate as well as critically reflect on the life and personality of   The Talented Mr. Mukherjee, as I would like to fondly call my Baba. I have attempted, as best as my memory would allow, to weave a narrative containing some of the anecdotes from his life with which I can claim a passing familiarity.  I am sharing this essay with all of you for your reading pleasure.

    Finally, I would be eternally grateful if all of you could keep my Baba in your thoughts and prayers today.

Baba, Ma, Thakurda and I.
Shaibal Kumar Mukherjee, Jayashree Mukherjee, Himanshu Ranjan Mukherjee and Bappaditya Mukherjee

About The Author

PROLOGUE: THE MEGHAN McCAIN PARALLEL

My name is Bappaditya Mukherjee. I am the only child of Mr. Shaibal Kumar Mukherjee and Jayashree Mukherjee. My father was in the Indian Administrative Service (IAS) and was allotted the cadre serving the Government of Uttar Pradesh. He completed his foundation course and training in 1971. He was given seniority in service in accordance with the 1965 batch due to his short service in the military. His unit saw action during India’s war with Pakistan. He served the state and people of UP with great honour and distinction for nearly thirty years. After retiring from the IAS in 2001, Mr. Mukherjee settled in the Rajajipuram locality of Lucknow along with his wife.

His wife, and my beloved mother, Mrs. Jayashree Mukherjee was a home maker.  She was a singer trained in classical Hindustani music, with a special  interest in Rabindra Sangeet. Unfortunately, she was afflicted
with severe asthma soon after I was born. This impacted her ability to pursue a public singing career
on a sustained basis. She did sing for the Gorakhpur station of the All India Radio as an ad-hoc artist.
My mother was a very bright student. She completed a BA (Honours) in Mathematics prior to
her marriage. Thirteen years later, she acquired a MA in History from Agra University where she
secured a first division. She passed away in 2015.

Two years after my mother’s demise, I came back to Lucknow to stay with my father. I was based in the US at the time where I was teaching at a college (State University of New York, Geneseo) after acquiring a PhD in International Relations from University of Maryland near Washington DC. Baba was showing early signs of neurological disorders and was struggling to take care of himself in that large house in Rajajipuram, Lucknow. So, inadvertently I became his primary caregiver for the next, and as it turned out, last six years of his life.

MOTIVATION

It was serendipity that brought about my forthcoming essay to commemorate the first death anniversary of my father on January 28, 2024. My father had been suffering from various ailments for several years prior to his demise. I thought I had ample opportunity to emotionally prepare myself for his inevitable passing. I was wrong.
For almost nine months following Baba’s death in late January 2023, I remained holed up in my apartment in suburban Indore. I did virtually nothing except watch a variety of content on OTT platforms on my mobile and cricket matches on TV. I didn’t read or write a single word. The only human contact I had was with Savan Vansh, my all-purpose handyman and driver, and Varsha, whom Savan had roped in as a maid. Varsha was very bad at her job. She would try to cover up her inefficiency by wishing me a robust “Good Morning, Sir” every day. When confronted with the shoddy quality of her work, she volunteered that cooking and cleaning are not her primary occupations. She used to work in a needle factory but became unemployed, like so many others, during the lockdown. Her lack of experience with household management clearly showed in the lack of upkeep in my apartment.
Varsha’s awful cooking gave me a pretext to order most of my meals from restaurants in the neighborhood. All I had to do was message Savan, and he would deliver. After almost twenty years, I resumed drinking beer and white wine. Thankfully, at the age of 50, my capacity to consume alcohol had significantly declined compared to my late twenties. Following a few enthusiastic solo drinking sessions to accompany the major matches of the Cricket World Cup, I ceased. Inevitably, all this consumption of unhealthy food and drink caused me to gain weight. I also started to feel rather morose.

DIWALI EVE 2023: THE REVIVAL OF HOPE

On Diwali eve, the excited shrieks of kids enjoying the festival season were the dominant sound in my apartment complex. A number of these kids rang my doorbell and warmly wished me Happy Diwali in unison. Then they demanded sweets from me, just like American kids do on Halloween. I asked them to return a couple of hours later. I sent Savan to Bhanvrilal Sweets in nearby Mhow and ordered 5 kg of their famous rabdi, the favorite sweet of my late father and me. Later that evening, a grand old time was had by these kids in my apartment, in which I had been living like a recluse. This brief exchange with these cute kids triggered a wave of emotions in me. I thank those kids for teaching me a valuable lesson: I needed to let go of the pain associated with the dead and explore happiness among the living. 

On the spur of a moment, I decided to surprise my uncles son, Shantanu, in Pune. I looked up the nearby coastal areas of Maharashtra as potential spots to visit with my cousin and his wife. 

I booked a flight and messaged Shantanu about my impending visit. To my disappointment, he told me he was out of station visiting his parents in Merrut. Since I had already purchased the ticket,I decided to take a solo trip from Pune to Daboli and Diveagar. 
I hired a cab with a good Bluetooth system. I was armed with four playlists titled “Travel English,” “Travel Hindi,” “Travel Bengali,” “Travel Latin,” and “Travel Gazals” on my phone. These contain songs downloaded from Amazon Music, making them impervious to the variability in internet connectivity. 
Once I left Pune city limits, I was immersed in the stunning beauty of the Western Ghats. For the next five days, I stayed in various places in this region with low internet penetration.
This proved to be a blessing in disguise. I didn’t realize it then, but I had unintentionally enrolled in a digital detoxification program. With non-refundable hotel bookings in advance, I had no choice but to spend five days without access to OTT platforms and YouTube reels to keep me distracted. Sitting in the elegant restaurants of these hotels, with nothing to do but stare at the beautiful environs, I began writing random observations about the upwardly mobile Indians patronizing these businesses.

UNABASHED SOCIABILITY OF INDIANS

One thing that characterizes Indians more than any other members of a national political community is the ease with which they can start conversations with each other in random places. Having lived in the US for 16 years, I had become accustomed to public places in which strangers do not break the ice that easily with each other. In India, a request by one to pass the salt or the sauce from a neighboring table can very easily generate a volley of questions being fired at you: one question more intrusive than the next. Predictably, I was confronted with these questions as well. The order of such questions would go something like this: 
1. Where are you from?
2. What do you do?
3. Where is everyone else that is traveling with you? (Traveling solo for leisure is still rather uncommon in India)
4. Are you married? If the answer is yes, then the next question will be
5. Where is your wife?
If the answer to question number 4 is no, then you will be asked,
6. Why are you not married? Were you ever married?
If you were to answer, to the second and third parts of question 6 as “Yes, I was married but later divorced, and no, I don’t have any kids”, then all bets are off.
Offers to set up your profile at marriage websites like www.bharatmatrimony.com or www.shaadi.com are likely to be followed. 
In any case, you get the picture.
In my replies to these interrogative sessions at these hotels in coastal Maharashtra, I began noticing a pattern. I was talking a lot about my relationship with my father and what it was like growing up as the only child of an IAS officer in Uttar Pradesh. The nuggets of information narrated by me in these interactions were utterly fascinating for the random strangers I was encountering during this trip. In the evenings, when I retired to my room, I recapitulated all that I had narrated and recorded on my mobile.

WHY RECALL MEGHAN McCAIN?

This brings me to someone called Meghan McCain. If you do not know who she is, you have not missed anything. Nonetheless, let me introduce her to you. Meghan McCain is a dim-witted nitwit who can be charitably described as a US political commentator. She is sufficiently credentialed, having acquired an undergraduate degree from the prestigious Columbia University. However, her primary claim to fame and access to US public discourse comes from the fact that she is the daughter of the US Senator, Vietnam war veteran, and US presidential candidate, the late John McCain. She is routinely mocked by her ideological rivals as well as her political allies for incessantly talking about her father. The video sharing channel YouTube is full of videos of her doing this tiresome routine, most infamously during her stint on the popular US daytime talk show The View. 
As you would have guessed by now, I am not a big fan of Ms. McCain. However, I am self-aware enough to be wary of the possible parallels between Ms. McCain’s daddy issues and my voluble narrations about my father to all these strangers in coastal Maharashtra. Ms. McCain’s crass misuse of her father’s name and connections should be viewed as a cautionary tale for other children of privilege like me. While it is critical that people like me and Ms. McCain honor their father’s legacy, we must also maintain our own dignity while doing so.

THE BLACK NOTEBOOKS

In the weeks that followed, I travelled to the Andaman and Nicobar Islands and to Bengaluru. The above pattern of conversations focused on my father’s life kept recurring in various touristy places I visited. My black notebooks gradually filled up with all the stories and observations about my life with my father. The forthcoming essay to be shared on January 28th is drawn from the contents of these notebooks. 

Commemorative Essay

By

Bappaditya Mukherjee PhD(Department of Government and Politics, University of Maryland, College Park, USA)

My Baba: A "Sakth Jaan" with a Kind Heart

As a young officer in the Army Corps of Engineers
Baba Completes College
This was taken in February 1965 in Jhansi, few months prior to India’s war with Pakistan

Introduction: What is a “Sakth Jaan?”

         My late father, Mr. Shaibal Kumar Mukherjee, or Baba as I called him, passed away on 28 January 2023, after a prolonged battle with multiple health issues. He was a distinguished member of the Indian Administrative Service (IAS). He was allotted to the Uttar Pradesh cadre and he completed his foundation training course in 1971. When the news of his demise broke, tributes poured in from extended family members and erstwhile colleagues in the IAS and the Indian Army.

       The essence of Baba’s personality was best summed up by one of his Army colleagues. He revealed that Baba had earned the sobriquet “Sakth Jaan” which loosely translates to “Tough Man” while rising up the ranks during his short stint in the Army. This honorific is apt for Baba, as I can vouch for his unbelievable willpower and high tolerance for pain, both physical and mental.

       Those who encountered Baba in his professional life were a source of great solace to me at this moment of grief and ennui. It gave me a much clearer appreciation of the amazing arc of Baba’s life and career. It is my wish that Baba’s first death anniversary becomes a celebration of his life. In this commemorative essay, I reflect on my personal experiences growing up as his son. I will share my recollections and observations of his public service to India as a civil servant for over three decades. I would have also liked to honour his valorous stint in India’s armed forces. However, since the phase of his life in the Army was prior to my birth, my commentary on this phase of his life will be sparse.

Ascribed and Achieved Status

       My earliest childhood memories are heavily influenced by my father’s exalted ascriptive and achieved status in India’s social hierarchy. My father’s ascriptive status came from being born into a Bengali-Brahmin family in Kolkata on April 24, 1941. His gotra is Bharadwaj giving him the privilege of belonging to one of the higher-ranked caste groups in the Hindu system of social stratification. On the other hand, Baba’s achieved status came from clearing the extremely competitive examination to enter India’s elite bureaucratic service, the IAS.  Suddenly, Baba had access to untrammelled state power at the relatively young age of 30. If that were not enough, he was allotted the coveted cadre of the northern state of Uttar Pradesh (henceforth UP). It is well known that the route to political power in India runs through UP, primarily because of its geographical location, population and culture of political mobilisation across various community groups.  Although greater research on this question is required, most of the higher echelons of the mandarins of Government of India appear to be drawn from the UP cadre. As Baba’s progeny, I had won the Indian social lottery. The lottery winnings were immediate in terms of social prestige, but did not translate into access to disposable wealth. More on this later in this essay.

Child of the Emergency

            I was two years old in 1975, when India was beset by the chaos of the emergency imposed by Mrs. Indira Gandhi’s government. My father was posted as District Magistrate (DM) in Ballia in eastern Uttar Pradesh, during the two years of the emergency (1975–77). In the US city administration, he would be equivalent to a city manager of sorts, but with much wider executive authority in managing various developmental tasks and power over local law enforcement.

           The region of eastern Uttar Pradesh was and continues to be among the most infamous badlands in India. Its social milieu is rife with caste and religious polarisation, extreme poverty, and gangsterism. The criminal social character of this Bahubali (strongman)-infested region has been accurately depicted in the webseries Mirzapur, which can be viewed on Amazon Prime. If you want a real-life example of a Bahubali, you need not look any further than Brij Bhushan Sharan Singh, currently a member of India’s parliament belonging to India’s ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). He is currently facing a charge sheet in a case of repeated sexual harassment filed by several champion female wrestlers of India.

             During his tenure as DM Ballia, Baba had the unpleasant task of implementing the highly condemnable programme of forcible sterilisation, a pet project of Sanjay Gandhi, the erratic and autocratic son of Mrs. Indira Gandhi, the then Prime Minister. As a government servant tasked with its implementation, my father became an avid advocate for the one-child policy. As a man of unimpeachable integrity, it is no surprise that he practised what he preached. Despite my mother’s repeated entreaties for another child, preferably a girl, Baba stood steadfast in his commitment to the one-child norm.

       Overnight, my idyllic childhood in this small sleepy  town was rudely interrupted by larger political forces. As my mother told me later, gangsterism in the district had already triggered a serious threat of kidnapping and bodily harm to me from various criminals and their political masters. The declaration of an emergency further accentuated these dangers.  I went from walking alone to the nearby kindergarten as a toddler to being escorted there by a posse of armed police constables.

       With the benefit of hindsight, I have to face the uncomfortable fact that my father had also become an instrument of political repression launched by the Indian state during the emergency. Among the politicians opposing Mrs. Gandhi was a rising local Congress leader called Mr. Chandrashekhar.  As DM Ballia, Baba put many of the opponents of the Gandhi regime like Mr. Chandrashekhar behind bars.  As the vagaries of Indian politics would have it, Mr. Chandrashekhar would later rise to become the Prime Minister of India for four months in 1991.

Dickensian Life in Lucknow

        After the emergency ended in 1977, Baba was posted for the first time in the capital of UP, Lucknow. For my family, this was a massive change in lifestyle. In Ballia, we lived in a palatial bungalow with a retinue of servants and police constables at our beck and call. In contrast, in Lucknow, we found ourselves in a small, two-bedroom flat in the Ram Sagar Mishra Nagar (RSMN) locality. The DM’s bungalow in Ballia had been designed for the comfort of our former colonial masters. Consequently, it was one of the most spacious and comfortable accommodations in the district. In stark contrast, the RSMN flats were neither spacious nor comfortable.

        In Lucknow, we had no domestic help, and the small flat on the first floor was mightily impacted by the extreme weather conditions prevalent in northern India. Given its location on the first floor, the flat would turn into a furnace during the brutal North Indian summer months and transform into a cold storage during the chilly winter season. Due to his advancing age, my 78-year-old grandfather joined us in this tiny flat. Although not properly diagnosed at the time, it is obvious in retrospect that he was suffering from some sort of neurological problem like dementia, Alzheimer’s, and Parkinson’s disease. Similar health issues also consumed Baba in the final stage of his life.

       My mother also started having serious health issues arising out of her asthma. She would get recurring asthmatic attacks and have several near death experiences. Unfortunately, this chronic health problem afflicted my mother for the rest of her adult life until she passed away at the age of 65 in 2015.

       As an only child, I went looking for friends among the children of my father’s colleagues in the IAS who were allotted similar accommodations in the neighbourhood. I distinctly remember wonderful playdates with the children of the late Mr. R.S. Toliya and Mr. Kamal Taori during our three-year stay in the RSMN locality. In particular, Taori aunty was a calming presence for me as a young boy with a sick mother and a busy father. Taori aunty later revealed to me that I used to come to her in tears and say, “Meri mummy mar jayegi”. (“My mother will die”). Taori aunty exhorted my mother to fight for her life as her son needed her. Perhaps it was Taori aunty’s exhortation that helped my mother stay with us until 2015.

       In 1977, RSMN was clearly a mofussil area near Lucknow and considered too far from where most of the state government offices were located in the city. I look back in amazement at the parents of that generation who let us fend for ourselves in an area with such low inhabitation. Our group of tiny tots, the proverbial “baba log” of post-colonial India would walk to the Carmel Convent School that was a fair distance away. We would walk alongside the main road linking downtown Lucknow with this newly settled suburb. I can somehow vaguely recall the numerous adventures of our kids group while commuting by foot to school everyday. Our biggest goal in life was to climb up the trees that dotted our route. Thankfully, none of us received any serious injuries although scrapes and bruises were quite normal.

       It was during our stay in the RSMN neighbourhood that I had the first inkling that my father’s elite status did not correlate with a high disposable income. By 1977, Baba had been elevated to the rank of Special Secretary. Despite the comparatively lower cost of living at that time, his pay scale was abysmal. The extent of our lower middle-class penury can be gauged from the following: For three years, I was witness to a raging and recurring debate between my parents on whether to acquire an air cooler for their bedroom. Every year at the start of summer, this debate would spoil the family environment. No cooler was forthcoming, and every year Ma and I just spent the summer months looking skyward for the rain. I distinctly remember those awful summer vacations in our RSMN flat, constantly flitting from the drawing room to the balcony and back again. My six-year-old self had developed his own unique way of coping with the searing heat!

1980-81, Agra: Opulence, Riots, and Disco

       However, our lives took an exciting turn when Baba was posted to the high-profile city of Agra as its DM in the middle of 1980. I can clearly remember Baba, Maa, and I alighting at the Agra railway station all those years ago. We were met by a large group of police and civilian officers standing in attention with bouquets and garlands. This was followed by a ride in a white ambassador car with a flashing red light on the roof, a blaring siren, and a flag with the UP government logo of two fishes of the flapping vigorously.

       We proceeded to the Agra Circuit House, which was no less than a luxury resort. There, a guard of honour was accorded to Baba by the local police. Given his Army background, Baba smartly saluted the police constables that went through their routine of flexing their guns clockwise and counter-clockwise. I now wonder how my seven-year-old brain processed this sudden exposure to the trappings of state power. It clearly left an indelible impression on my young mind, as I can remember that day as if it were yesterday.

      My mom and I later discussed how our lives changed overnight, after we moved to Agra. Like Ballia, we were again being served by innumerable people who were trained to be as deferential and servile as possible to the three of us. The DMs bungalow was obscenely palatial, with a lawn in the back that stretched as far as the eyes could see. There were peacocks and other birds running around in gay abandon, making different types of noises.

       Little did we know that the serene and beautiful environs in which we found ourselves at the DMs bungalow masked the ugly underbelly of Indian society: communal strife between Hindus and Muslims. Our arrival in Agra coincided with the outbreak of serious clashes in the neighbouring district of Moradabad. This communal conflagration in Moradabad is one of the most significant episodes of Hindu-Muslim violence in modern Indian political history. Its significance can be gauged from the fact that it has its own Wikipedia page.

       The 1980 Moradabad riots, also known as the Moradabad Muslim Massacre, refers to violence that happened in the Indian city of Moradabad during August–November 1980. When a pig entered the local Idgah during the Eid festival prayer on August 13, local Muslims asked the police to remove the pig, but the police refused to do so. This led to a confrontation between the police and the Muslims. The police responded with indiscriminate firing, which led to over one hundred deaths. This was followed by a series of violent incidents that became religious in nature and led to arson, looting, and murders.

       On the sixth day after Baba took charge as DM Agra, the contagion of communal violence had inevitably spread to his district as well. The causus belli of the communal strife in Agra at that moment was the stabbing of a young Hindu boy following a wrestling match with a Muslim competitor in the old city area. Consequently, the law-and-order situation in Agra deteriorated. After a few hours, the Hindu boy passed away. As news of this fatality spread, mobs began clashing in some parts of the district. A repeat of Moradabad was feared in Agra as well. From what I have gathered from eyewitnesses, Baba took up position along with Agra’s Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP), Mr. B. P. Singh, atop a bridge overlooking the locality where clashes were occurring. He was constantly chuffing at his cigarettes, as he was a chain smoker at the time. Baba ordered the police to open fire. As a result, one young Muslim girl was killed. Numerous other civilians from both communities received non-fatal gunshot wounds. The clashes were soon brought under control, and a curfew was imposed. In a few days, normalcy was thankfully restored. Years later, Baba opened up a little bit about his fateful executive decision to fire on this riotous mob. As many of his friends from his Army days and early bureaucratic career have shared with me, Baba could turn into a wonderful raconteur after a couple of pegs of his favourite Johnny Walker Black Label whiskey.

Bharat Prasad Singh

       Bharat Prasad Singh, a native of the Bihar district of Munger, is recognized for his fearless and exceptional policing. He served as SSP for important Uttar Pradesh districts like Varanasi, Agra, and Aligarh. BP Singh also served as Gorakhpur’s DIG for almost 7 years, and his work there is still highly regarded. 

     In August 1980, Mr. B. P. Singh was the Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP), Agra when my Baba, as DM, ordered the police to fire on mobs clashing with each other. This resulted in the death of a young Muslim girl and nonfatal gunshot injuries to a number of people.

       Apparently, when Baba got back to his home office later that night, he received a phone call from R.K. Dhawan, the all-powerful advisor to the then PM, Mrs. Gandhi. As was his wont, Mr. Dhawan began to berate Baba for the incident. After receiving a earful from Mr. Dhawan for a few minutes, Baba told him, “Please put the PM on the line. I am not answerable to you.” Unfortunately, Baba never revealed the contents of his conversation with Mrs. Gandhi following to his spat with Mr. Dhawan. Whatever Baba said  seemed to satisfy the PM because he continued as DM Agra for the next year. During Baba’s tenure as DM Agra, there were no more communal riots, which is incredible given the recurrence of such clashes in several other districts of UP during the 1980–81 time period.

       The Congress-party government was in power in Uttar Pradesh in 1980. To pull back from the brink of incessant tensions between Hindus and Muslims, a large-scale cultural festival was organised in Agra in the winter of 1980 under Baba’s tutelage. It was modelled on the Mughal emperor Akbar’s policy of Sulh-i-Kul. Sulh-i-Kul means absolute peace, or peace for all. This policy was devised by Abu’l Fazl and implemented by Akbar during his reign. Such symbolic exhortations of the syncretic aspects of India’s cultural traditions were a central element of the Indian state during the “Congress system” of governance during 1947-89. This kind of exercise would be dubbed pseudo-secular pandering in the political climate of today’s India.

       On a personal level, as a seven-year-old I couldn’t be happier with the move from that hellish flat in RSMN, Lucknow, to Agra. When I look back now, it is very obvious why this was the case. Being the child of the DM, I was being pampered silly by everyone around me! My new school in Agra was St. Johns, an excellent colonial-era institution designed to reproduce an endless stream of Macaulay’s children. However, this was still Western UP, the land where physical altercation is an everyday occurrence. On the first day of my academic year as a student in Class I, a boy sitting next to me suddenly, and without provocation, stabbed my right knee with a sharp object. I immediately began bleeding profusely from the point of impact. However, I didn’t tell the teacher, and no one took notice. I carry that mark to this day. Of course, my seven-year-old assailant was not aware that I was the DM’s Son. After  classes ended that day, a police constable assigned to pick me up from school inquired about my blood-soaked right leg. I am now ashamed to admit that I ratted out my assailant to the police constable right away. The police constable then proceeded to give a solid thrashing to the poor boy, showing little mercy. Looking back on that incident, I wonder if it was’t  inappropriate on my part to have used my privilege so blatantly. I think, given that I was a mere toddler, I couldn’t be expected to react with a woke perspective! Unsurprisingly, once everyone in school learned of this incident, all the prospective bullies in the school backed off.

       During Baba’s posting in Agra, I was also introduced to a beast known as the five-star hotel, with the Maurya Sheraton and Holiday Inn being the most luxurious. Baba was the DM of a district that houses the world-famous monument called the Taj Mahal. Agra is an essential stopover for almost all visiting dignitaries in India. Hence, a major focus of Baba’s job was to keep in touch with the management of these luxurious properties.

       Thanks to Baba, I got a chance to rub shoulders with an endless stream of celebrities in Agra. If it was Prince Charles of Great Britain one day, it was Mother Teresa the next. However, the most exciting thing that happened for me that year was the arrival of the crew of the Subash Ghai film Vidhata, starring Dilip Kumar, Sanjay Dutt, and numerous other leading lights of early 80s Bollywood. Being of a stoic nature, Baba was uninterested in these glamorous people. I remember having to beg to go watch the shooting at Maurya Sheraton.

The Bollywood movie, Vidhaata (The Creator) that was shot in Agra when I was living there in the early 1980s.

       We must also reckon that 1980 was the epitome of the licence-permit raj in the Indian economy. Hoteliers, in particular, were very keen to remain in the good books of the local district administration. Since Baba was incorruptible as far as direct monetary gain was concerned, the local hoteliers found a novel way of trying to stay on his right side. It became widely known that Baba was a foodie and enjoyed a couple of drinks after his working hours. There were persistent invitations to parties of some kind from all these fancy hotels. I was given an all-access pass to all the swimming pools of all the 5-star hotels in the city. These favours, such as they were, didn’t yield any quid pro quo from Baba. However, as a seven-year-old I was thrilled to bits with the dinners and functions at these five-star hotels and the chance to learn swimming in their massive, luxurious pools.

       1980 was also the year that the disco revolution reached Indian musical shores, although it had begun waning in the West. If there was a theme song for the year 1980, it would have to be Aap Jaisa Koi Meri Zindagi Mein Aaye To Baat Ban Jaaye by the ravishing Pakistani singer, Nazia Hassan. In 1980, this song would be playing everywhere, from the paan shop to elite gatherings in five star hotels. Even today, when this song from Firoz Khan’s film Qurbani (Sacrifice) tracks up on my Amazon music playlist, I am transported back to that magical year in Agra, circa 1980. Here are the lyrics for all those who haven’t had the pleasure of listening to this song.

आप जैसा कोई मेरी ज़िंदगी में आये
तो बात बन जाये हाँ हाँ बात बन जाये
आप जैसा कोई मेरी ज़िंदगी में आये
तो बात बन जाये हाँ हाँ बात बन जाये
फूल को बहार बहार को चमन
दिल को दिल बदन को बदन
हर किसी को चाहिये तन मन का मिलन
काश मुझ पर ऐसा दिल आपका भी आये
तो बात बन जाये हाँ हाँ बात बन जाये
हाँ आप जैसा कोई मेरी ज़िंदगी में आये
तो बात बन जाये हाँ हाँ बात बन जाये

आप जैसा कोई मेरी ज़िंदगी में आये
तो बात बन जाये हाँ हाँ बात बन जाये
मैं इनसान हूँ फ़रिश्ता नहीं
डर है बहक न जाऊं कहीं
तन्हा दिल न सम्भलेगा
प्यार बिना ये तड़पेगा
आप सा कहाँ है दिल आप को ही पाये
तो बात बन जाये हाँ हाँ बात बन जाये
हाँ आप जैसा कोई मेरी ज़िंदगी में आये
तो बात बन जाये हाँ हाँ बात बन जाये

हो आप जैसा कोई मेरी ज़िंदगी में आये
तो बात बन जाये हाँ हाँ बात बन जाये
हा हा हा हा बात बन जाये
हो हो हो हो बात बन जाये
हा हा हा हा बात बन जाये

       In Agra, Baba’s office was part of his official residence. For the first time in my life I became aware of the challenging nature of his profession. Baba seemed to be awfully busy with mountains of paperwork from early in the morning till late at night.  I also got to witness how Baba would deal with the members of the general public, carrying pieces of paper dealing with some catastrophic problem or another. Every morning as I headed to school, I would see a motley crowd of people filing into the main gate, all wanting an audience with Baba. They were my fellow citizens who would have travelled long distances from various parts of the district to interact with Baba – the premier representative of the so-called “steel frame” of the Indian state.

       Baba had a skeletal secretarial staff of four persons led by an elderly and portly gentleman who everyone referred to as Chaubeyji.  Baba was not one to be easily impressed but he was genuinely appreciative of Chaubeyji’s understated efficiency.  In turn, Chaubeyji was equally in tune with Baba’s style of functioning. In later years, whenever we were in Agra we would partake in at least one meal at Chaubeyji’s modest home.

       To cope with the extraordinary demands on him as DM Agra, Baba took up gardening with full gusto. Due to the discipline inculcated by his stint in the Army, Baba was able to get by with much less sleep compared to lesser mortals. However late he might have gone to bed the night before, he was always up before dawn. As I was being dressed by my mom for school, I distinctly remember watching a bare chested Baba watering the lawn and planting trees in the vast backyard lawn of the DM’s bungalow. With the exception of the winter months, the only item of clothing he liked to wear while gardening would be hideous-looking yellow shorts!

       The  Diwali celebration in my household in the year 1980 was also diametrically opposite to what I had experienced before up until that point in my short life.  That year, I remember that on the eve of Diwali, a steady stream of people began arriving at our place of residence carrying gift boxes of various shapes and sizes. As I would later realise, these were representatives of the creeme de la creeme of the business community of Agra. As had become customary by then in the state of UP, the leading business families would deliver gifts on major festivals like Diwali and the New Year to all the major civilian and police officers in the district. From 1980 untill Baba’s retirement in 2000, it became normal in our household to be filled with the fanciest of gift boxes containing everything from dry fruits to expensive sweets. As I later observed, several of Baba’s colleagues made a big song and dance about not accepting such holiday gifts. It was a cost-effective mechanism to signal to the world about one’s incorruptibility and probity in public life.  However, Baba’s moral red line was drawn further upstream in the policy making and implementation process (i.e acquiring pecuniary gain by an officer in exchange for granting regulatory favours). As all of his former colleagues in the IAS may attest, this was his Laxman Rekha and he never crossed it in his bureaucratic careerwh

A Tale of Contrasting Experiences: Agra and Varanasi

       In 1981, Baba was moved from Agra to the temple town of Varanasi. He was elevated to the post of Divisional Commissioner with charge of five district headquarters. This included Mirzapur, made infamous by the Amazon Prime webseries of the same name. However, even as a child, I could sense that Baba sorely missed the executive role of DM Agra that involved considerable public interface. After all the hustle and bustle in a prominent district of the state like Agra, Varanasi was a huge let down. My superficial understanding of the post of Divisional Commissioner in the Indian bureaucratic setup of UP is that it is mostly supervisory in nature, with much less to do with daily administration.

       One of the notable incidents that occurred during Baba’s three-year stint was the theft of the gold-plated covering of the Shiv Ling at the famous Kashi Vishwanath Mandir in 1983. Although the police establishment in the Varanasi Division claimed that the stolen gold had been recovered within three weeks, my Baba privately maintained that the real perpetrators of this dastardly defilement of a holy shrine had gotten away.

       The other notable issue that sticks to my memory is the curious case of the hanging pots. Baba’s colleague, Mr. Devi Dayal was the Chief Administrator of the Varanasi Development Authority (VDA).  He proposed that the beautification of the main thoroughfares of Varanasi must begin by installing “hanging pots” with plants in them on the road dividers.  Baba, as I vividly recall, was totally against the idea. He said that given the law-abiding propensity of the denizens of Varanasi these hanging pots would be carted off as soon as they are installed. My father was proved right. Soon after these hanging pots were unveiled with appropriate fanfare, they began disappearing from these road dividers. In the pre-security camera days, the criminals could not be apprehended?

       Socially, things couldn’t have been better for me.  The kids of the Varanasi DM, and SSP were of around the same age as me.  Mr. Devi Dayal also had two children who became close friends of mine. My closest friends were Vivek and Swati, the children of Mr. Shree Narain and his irrepressible wife, Uma Aunty. Shree uncle was my father’s classmate in his MA History course at Meerut University.  Since he was posted in Varanasi as part of his job at the SBI, his family and ours became really close. The fact that they lived close by was an added advantage.  Uma aunty took up a job as an English teacher in the school that her children and I attended. Since my father curiously refused to allow me to take his official car to go to school, I joined the Narain family in their rickety family car, UPH-3790 Fiat 1967 model.  Uma Aunty must be given tremendous credit for driving us to school.

       I also fondly remember Mittal Aunty, the wife of DM Varanasi organising a video screening of Masoom at her residence. All the kids had a great time fiddling around with the newly arrived device called the Video Cassette Recorder (VCR). I somehow remember Uma aunty being the master of ceremonies at that gathering.  I remember all of us kids dancing to the song from the film, lakdi ki kathi. Of course, we kids understood the adult themes of marital infidelity, loss of a loved one and forgiveness only much later in life.

The first movie my friends in Varanasi and I watched on a video cassette recorder (VCR). 1983.

Mid-80s Lucknow: Growing gap in disposable income between Baba and some of his colleagues

       Following Varanasi, we moved back to Lucknow as Baba was appointed the Food Secretary of UP. The food department is well known in bureaucratic circles as a maaldaar mahakma (lucrative department). However, Baba’s posting in this supposed den of graft did not bring any significant changes in our lifestyle. I did get a massive advantage from Baba’s new posting when I was admitted to the most prestigious school in Lucknow, St. Francis’ in the middle of the school year. Unlike others who had to take an entrance test, I got in based on an essay I wrote. It was a travelogue of a recent family trip to New Delhi where we had interacted with the family of Baba’s course mate in Indian Customs, K. P. Singh uncle.

       During Baba’s tenure as Food Secretary, I observed that the arrangements at various district guest houses were much more lavish than even during the heydays of Agra.  As I began approaching young adulthood, the expectations of my peer group and their families began to create problems for me. Given the massive discretionary powers of senior IAS officers in 1980s India, mired in socialist red tape and scarcity, I was often confronted with requests from the parents of my schoolmates for special favours.  It was very common for them to expect me to approach Baba on their behalf to get access to essential commodities like wheat, gas, and telephone connections.

  This culture of sifarish (Italicized) is pervasive in UP. The Collins dictionary explains sifarish as follows: “If you approach someone about something or if you make an approach to them, you speak to them because you want them to do something for you”. Sifarish permeates the relationship between the family members of IAS officers and their friends and acquaintances in UP. A small example will illustrate this point: In 2016, I reconnected with Mohit Seth, my best friend in St Francis’ College Lucknow. One of the first things he said to me was, “Mujhe IAS ke bete ke saath dosti karke koi faida nahin hua.” In translation, “I got no benefit from having a childhood friend who is a son of an IAS officer.” My initial reaction was laughter because I thought he was joking. It took me a couple of seconds to realise that he was serious. I don’t blame Mohit for thinking the way he clearly does. This is just the milieu in which IAS officers and their families in UP have to exist.

       Baba’s ‘by the book’ working style was anathema to people who were lobbying a 12 year old to help them get out of turn favours. One such request came from my principal at St. Francis School, which Baba promptly declined by quoting the rulebook. I am not aware of the details of what occurred between Baba and my school principal. Suffice to say, my school principal was deeply offended that he didn’t get any significant advantage from having the son of UP’s Food Secretary in his school!

      This brings me to another aspect of Baba’s legacy. He was extremely reluctant to be seen as abusing his discretionary powers as a senior bureaucrat to give favours to his immediate or extended family. So, there were no instances of him putting in a “good word” for either his or my mother’s relatives for any work. Of course, this definitely negatively impacted his popularity  among our relatives.

      In the latter half of my sixth grade, I began hearing about three boarding schools: Doon School in Dehradun, Lawrence School in Sanawar, and Mayo School in Ajmer. In the social class I was in at the time, these were all the rage among parents. The children of my father’s colleagues started leaving their homes to join these institutions of the supra-elite.  While Baba was very keen for me to join their ranks, Ma was unable to cut the symbolic umbilical cord and let me go.

E.M. Forster, Baba Log and Cricket

       Baba’s batchmate, Nilu Banerjee, was just another non-resident Bengali like him. His son, Raja, was a year older to me, and I found him to be quite friendly whenever our paths crossed in Delhi when Nilu Uncle had gone on deputation. Like me, Raja was also an only child. I guess at that young age, that was enough for us to relate to each other.

       A very memorable day that both our families spent together was at the lush green grounds of the circuit house at Bareilly. It was one of those typical days in the North Indian winter when the fog and mist of the morning made way for bright sunshine to come through. Raja was playing age-group cricket, such as it was, and claimed to be in contention for the UP junior team!. Raja’s makeshift room had all the latest imported cricket equipment, including professional spikes, gloves, and the like, which quite piqued my interest. Raja and Nilu uncle immediately challenged me to a one to one cricket match the next day!. By the time this mini- clash of the titans took place between me and Raja, my interest in cricket had waned. My sporting interest had diverged from cricket to tennis. I did not play cricket regularly at all. Following the toss, Raja chose to bowl first. He took a very long run up that sent a slight shiver down my spine. However, surprisingly, I was easily able to hit him quite ferociously back over his head several times, much to the budding junior cricketer’s chagrin and embarrassment. It was the first time I had worn a professional cricket kit, including the abdominal guard. We had several police constables serving as fielders while we took turns batting and bowling at each other. When I picture that scene in Bareilly, I can barely restrain a chuckle. It was a scene straight out of an E.M. Foster novel. The only thing different was the colour of the skin of the two main players and their families. The fielding was probably done by the descendants of those who served the original “baba log” .

Lucknow, 1985: Boris Becker, Babu Ram and a "Smuggler" Uncle from Calcutta

By the time I entered my teenage years in the late 1980s, Indian markets had begun liberalising gradually. In Lucknow, at the IAS officer’s club called the Civil Services Institute (henceforth CSI), I began noticing more and more of my friends sporting foreign brands of shoes and sports equipment. A hilarious incident occurred in 1986 at the officer’s club, the CSI. That year, a young Boris Becker had caused an upset at the Wimbledon tennis championships by beating Ivan Lendl. Inspired by Becker and access to the tennis facilities at CSI, I decided to take up tennis. My father bought me an Indian made tennis racket from a shop in Hazratganj, Lucknow. I had previously known the son of Baba’s colleague, Mr. Babu Ram. I learnt that he was a tennis enthusiast as well. However, when I met Babu Ram uncle’s son for a match, I was stunned by his imported tennis equipment and kit bag. It was the brand Puma that had been endorsed by my tennis inspiration, Boris Becker. The following conversation took place between two 13 year old sons of IAS officers at the CSI tennis court soon after we had played our first match:

Me: Where did you get hold of this imported tennis equipment that is endorsed by Boris Becker?

Babu Ram Uncle’s Son: I have a “smuggler” uncle in Calcutta. He gifted it to me.

       In the evening, I narrated this incident to my father and politely requested him to contact this smuggler uncle from Calcutta and ask him to give me a similar kit bag and tennis equipment as well. Needless to say, my dad did no such thing. However, what he need not have done is to reveal this private conversation with his teenage son to all his colleagues. This created an awkward situation for me at CSI, to say the least!

1990s: UP in Communal and Caste Flux

       As Baba began approaching the last decade of his service in the early 1990s, UP was beset with the twin phenomena of mandal (caste) and kamandal (communal) political mobilisation. Of course, this had to have an effect on the politics of bureaucratic appointments in the state. Blatant caste and communal politics became the order of the day. As a student of political science, it is quite understandable to me now why this was happening. A sustained system of universal adult franchise had been guaranteed by the Indian constitution and implemented, to varying degrees, by the first generation of post-independence Indian leaders. This system of mass politics had to eventually unleash the latent capacity of previously discriminated groups to mobilise to compete for political power.

       However, Baba was a complete misfit in this emerging political environment in UP in the early 1990s. Baba was proud of his Bengali heritage and could speak and write the language fluently. However, temperamentally, he was a cosmopolitan liberal at heart. He never uttered a casteist or communal remark in my presence in his life. That is quite remarkable, given the social conditioning that Baba would have received as a young adult in Meerut. I am guessing that growing up, as an ethnic and linguistic outsider in western UP, would have made him more empathetic to people who face discrimination. Although born a Brahmin, he was not part of the so-called Brahmin lobby in the corridors of bureaucratic power. He continued to behave like the ideal type of bureaucrat envisaged by the notable German sociologist, Max Weber. Weber conceived of a bureaucrat as someone who would be an unbiased purveyor of the rational-legal authority of the state – the sole repository of the monopoly of force in society.

       As caste and communal mobilisation began taking centre stage in UP’s political and bureaucratic establishment, my father’s straight-shooting approach brought him into repeated conflicts with his seniors and the key figures in the political executive.  One such clash occurred with Mr Raj Bhargav, Chief Secretary, UP, during Mulayam Singh’s first term as CM.

     Following this clash, word got to Baba that Mr. Bhargav was going around saying “Mukherjee always carries a big chip on his shoulder”. I clearly remember this because that was the first time I had heard that expression. Baba and I discussed at length what it meant and how it could be applied for him. According to the Collins dictionary, this phrase implies the following: “…to seem angry all the time because you think you have been treated unfairly or feel you are not as good as other people.”

1990 -1992, Gorakhpur & Thriveni Academy, Chennai: Moving away yet getting closer

       Given the deteriorating law and order situation in UP and my decision to shift to the Arts/Humanities stream, I took the initiative to convince my parents to send me away to boarding school. In 1990, Baba had been transferred to Gorakhpur. It is there that I learnt about Thriveni Academy near Chennai. After some toing and froing, Baba agreed.

       I can remember my first day at Thriveni Academy like it was yesterday. Baba, Ma and  I took a three day train ride. Although it was tiring the excitement of going to boarding school more than made up for whatever fatigue the journey caused.

       After spending the night at night at a private guest house in Chennai the three of us proceeded towards Sriperumbudur where Thriveni Academy was located.

       En route we passed by a large campus that resembled a military cantonment of the type that I had seen previously in Agra, Varanasi and Lucknow.

       Baba casually mentioned that this was the Officer’s Training Academy and he had trained there during his stint in the Army.

       When I recall the three of us having that family moment, what strikes me is how humble Baba was about his achievements. He just started them in a matter of fact way with absolutely no sense of arrogance. There was never any preening when he mentioned his academic or professional achievements.

       The two years that I spent in Thriveni Academy were the most enjoyable and memorable of my life. Baba took enormous interest in my studies, regularly writing to me about his juniors in IAS, current affairs and life in general. I think we communicated more openly and frequently than any other phase of our intersecting lives.

       One memorable instance of me being too smart for my own good comes to mind.  I requested Baba to write a letter to Thriveni Academy authorities to excuse me from attending the Sunday bhajan session. I wanted to attend the Sunday mass organised for the Christian students. My father, thought that I was going through a spiritual crisis. He promptly gave me a book that had Bertrand Russell’s famous essay, “Why I am not a Christian.” He instructed me that in the coming months he and I will discuss its contents via written correspondence.

       The only problem was that my reasons for attending the Sunday mass with my Christian school mates had little to do with a spiritual crisis. It had more to do with a hormonal/psychological/biological crisis. I was completely smitten by a classmate from the north east, who happened to be Christian.

       Ianosha Majaw first caught my attention when she surprised everyone by winning a school-wide essay competition. This competition was organised to reflect on the 200 year anniversary of the French Revolution of 1789. Thereafter, I wanted to do anything and everything to get into her good books. This included asking my father all he could find on John F. Kennedy Jr.  Ianosha had a habit of going up to the drawing board and write in her beautiful handwriting: I ❤️ JFK Jr.!

       Imagine my surprise when I got to know who Mr. JFK Jr. was and more importantly, what he looked like.

       John Fitzgerald Kennedy Jr. (November 25, 1960 – July 16, 1999) or simply known as JFK Jr., was an American attorney, businessman, journalist, and magazine publisher. He was the son of John F. Kennedy, the 35th president of the United States and First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy.

       In any case, the only outcome of my infatuation for Ianosha was that I thoroughly read the book by Bertrand Russell given by Baba and sent several of my thoughts on it to him via postal mail. Thanks to Baba’s letter, I was also spared the rather dissonant bhajans and found comfort in the relatively mellifluous hymns and carols at the Sunday mass, which I attended with full gusto for over a year.

       This experience had a very deep, albeit temporary effect on my relationship with God. I became a champion of atheism and in the farewell function gave an impassioned speech in defence of atheism and attack against institutional religion. I have since become a nominal practitioner of Hinduism.

1994: The Career Ending Seshan Fiasco

       His last hurrah in a major policy implementation role in the IAS was as the Chief Electoral Officer of UP in the state elections of 1993. After the election was successfully completed and results declared, the media-savvy Chief Election Commissioner of India, Mr. T. N. Sheshan, visited Lucknow in the summer of 1994. This meeting was attended by UP’s Chief Secretary, Mr. T.S.R. Subramanian, and Baba. The meeting was ostensibly called to review the recently concluded state elections. The details of what occurred at this meeting were revealed to me a few weeks ago by someone who was in the know.

       There was an acrimonious exchange between Baba and Mr. T.N. Sheshan at the airport over the way Baba had presented a set of papers to him. He wanted them bound in a file while apparently Baba had given him a sheaf of papers to peruse.  In the meeting that followed, Mr. Seshan created a fuss over the presence of press camerapersons. He demanded that Mr. Subramaniam, the Chief Secretary hold someone responsible for this enormous breach.  If my memory serves me right Mr. Seshan is supposed to have said, I will hold Mukherjee responsible. After initially attempting to reason with Mr. Seshan, the Chief Secretary caved and stated that Mukherjee is currently attached to the Election Commission, so technically Mr Seshan can remove him.  As soon as Baba heard this, he walked out of the meeting and wrote a note immediately stepping down as the Chief Electoral Officer of UP.

       I happened to be home in Lucknow from Hindu College in Delhi as it was my summer vacation. I was surprised to find Baba back home in the middle of a working day. However, being the stoic that he was, he did not say anything to either Maa or me as to what had transpired with Mr. Sheshan. Meanwhile, the events at this meeting had created a media sensation. By all accounts, the 1993 state elections in UP went off smoothly. It didn’t make sense to anyone as to why the man (i.e., Baba), who was responsible for this successful exercise, would quit in a huff after a meeting with the indomitable T.N. Seshan. Later that day, I realised something had gone wrong as the phones in our home began ringing off the hook. One journalist after another kept calling our home to get Baba’s reaction to his sudden departure from the election department. It was my one and only brush with a sort of media trial. Thankfully, there were no major private TV channels in 1994. Otherwise, Baba would also have undergone the Rhea Chakraborty treatment, with reporters camping outside our home. However, Baba was nothing but calm and well-humoured under all kinds of stressful conditions. He just had lunch, changed into his dhoti, and went off to sleep that afternoon. Once he woke up, he asked to disconnect the phone, went into his study, and began re-reading some books by one of his favourite authors. It always amazed me how he could “switch off” at will and relax at a moment’s notice. I guess this is what the motivational speakers dub “emotional intelligence.”

       A few days following the contentious meeting with Mr. Seshan, a major headline in the Lucknow edition of The Times of India quoted Baba as saying, “I have a tremendous capacity to suffer fools.” I had heard that line from him a million times since my childhood. It was his favourite thing to say, and he would casually drop it in most conversations. However, saying it in a private social gathering is very different from saying it in the media in the context of the aforementioned meeting. This would surely have rankled Mr. Seshan and his acolytes no end. Following this episode, Baba was reassigned to one of UP’s administrative backwaters (i.e., the Board of Revenue), where he worked as a member until his retirement in 2000. He was later given additional charge as Chairman of UP’s State Vigilance Commission, another department of the state’s bureaucratic structure that is toothless by design.

Baba’s interests

       Baba’s professional life was only a minor aspect of his awesome personality. He was an avid reader who was genuinely curious about the world around him. When he was in the Army, he became interested in the US war in Vietnam. He had a vast collection of books on the subject. He had written several drafts towards pursuing a PhD in history on this topic. Unfortunately, he could not find the motivation to complete this task. He was an avowed atheist and always spoke of pursuing a scientific temper and rejecting superstition and blind faith. In an act of private defiance against bigotry and support for freedom of expression, Baba brought back Salman Rushdie’s controversial novel, Satanic Verses, from a three-month training trip to London in 1989. I fondly recall the wonderful reading sessions that Baba hosted at our Lucknow home for his colleagues and friends to discuss the contents of this book. Since Satanic Verses had been banned by Rajiv Gandhi’s Congress government, the only physical copy of this novel in Lucknow was probably in our house. He was a devoted student of the scholarship produced by the famed British philosopher Bertrand Russell, management guru Peter Drucker, and the French thinker Jean-Paul Sartre. He had the complete collection of their works, and his favourite pastime was to read and re-read them.

      As a generalist, Baba was always very deferential towards specialists like medical doctors and engineers. He was always curious about their educational background and professional experiences. God had gifted Baba with such a brilliant mind and strong work ethic that he could have excelled in whatever profession he chose to pursue. For his tribe of bureaucrats, Baba sought to generalise by saying that memory is our only premium. Of course, Baba was being his usual witty self when he said this because people who qualify the civil services exam can and do display multiple talents. What he perhaps meant to say was that a good memory could be the most common trait found among Indian civil service officers.

       Baba had absolutely no patience for mass entertainment like movies, songs, and TV serials. The only concession Baba made to something light and fun in his reading diet were the works of the leading light of British humour, P. G. Wodehouse. When Baba became Secretary, Secretariat Administration, in the late 1980s, I discovered that the UP Secretariat had a wonderful library. I remember devouring their entire collection of P.G. Wodehouse over one of my summer vacations. They also had a great collection of books on cricket. The most memorable book that Baba and I read together was the Ashes tour diary of Bob Willis, the late British fast bowler and captain of the England cricket team.

Baba’s early years

       Baba clearly performed like a gifted child at his alma mater – the Government Inter College in Meerut (Western UP). I have seen Baba’s  report cards from his school days. The scholastic performances recorded in these reports are simply stunning. He seemed to have scored cent percent marks in most of his subjects.

      I wish I had asked Baba the secret of his high proficiency in the English language given that he attended a UP government school unlike the extraordinarily expensive schooling that I was privileged to have.  Let me clarify that products from Government schools can be as smart or dumb as those from private schools in India.  With the caveat that this observation is not meant to be classist, it can be safely generalised that poor instruction and lack of exposure  among students of government schools tends to negatively impact their command over the English language.  That was definitely not the case with Baba. The way he spoke and wrote English, one could be forgiven for thinking  that he went to an elite private school like the Lawrence school in Sanawar or Doon. He was not a naturally gifted mathematician but he more than compensated for it with his phenomenal memory.

How to read a newspaper: Baba's amazing mentorship

       He finished his newspaper within 30 minutes in the morning in one sitting. You could literally set a timer to this.  His daily allocation for this activity was exactly 30 minutes, no more no less. Following this, you could quiz him on any  of the newspaper’s contents and he would deliver the correct answer. I first discovered this as a teenager when Baba began pestering me – like any well-meaning parent – to develop the habit of reading the newspaper everyday. To be honest, I would start with the sports pages, move to the glossy supplements focusing on style and glamour if there was any, and then finally move to the more serious section. Baba soon caught onto this habit of mine and he was genuinely upset that I would be lingering with the newspaper all day. We had a big debate that the whole newspaper cannot be consumed and absorbed in one sitting.  Hence, the next day he pulled me out of bed earlier than usual and showed me how he did. I still didn’t believe what he was saying so in my teenage angst I challenged him to a pop quiz. I began asking him obscure facts from various sections of the newspaper that he had just put down. To my amazement, he calmly answered all my questions correctly putting my impertinent self firmly in place!!! When he discovered that I was not as gifted as he was he devised another plan: to have me copy the entire editorial page of the newspaper in my notebook. This would be followed by me making a list of all the words I found unfamiliar. Next, I was to open the large dictionary in my home and write down and memorise these words and their meanings.  In the evening, when Baba would return from the office, I had to be ready to get tested.  This became my routine for several years, especially during summer vacations until I moved out to a boarding school in Chennai to complete the last two years of my schooling. This was an incredible act of parenting by my father and I will forever be grateful to him for caring so much.

Baba as a child prodigy

      Baba did so well during his school career that he was permitted to skip his class level twice. He completed a Bachelor’s degree in Science and followed it with a Master’s in History. He often expressed disappointment that he could not secure a first division in either degree. He once shared with me that he had to work very hard as a private tutor to support his college expenses. His first major purchase from his earnings as a tutor was a bicycle. He was a free spirit and would cycle all the way from Meerut to New Delhi, a distance of nearly 50 kilometres. Once, a group of his college friends came to visit.  All those years later, they were completely in awe of Baba’s cycling adventures! It continued to rankle him all his life that this bicycle was stolen from the Meerut university hostel where he had gone to meet one of his friends. There were so many incidents of petty and major crimes that have been inflicted on me and people close to me while living and growing up in UP, that it has coloured how I view this blighted state.  I strongly believe that when the story of India’s inevitable emergence as an economic powerhouse will be written, UP’s crime ridden society and polity will be cited by scholars as a major dead weight in this transformative process. Baba used to always joke that the actual full form of UP should be Ulta Pradesh rather than Uttar Pradesh!

Selection in IAS

       Nonetheless, Baba more than made up for the unexpected dip in his academic performance in college by qualifying for the Short Service Commission in the Army. Following his discharge from the Army, Baba’s first attempt in the civil service exam resulted in his qualification for the Indian Police Service (IPS). He was allotted the Madhya Pradesh cadre.In his second attempt, he succeeded in entering the IAS. Baba once told me that he took a total of 18 competitive exams on the path to becoming an IAS officer.  Baba often lamented that he missed qualifying for the Indian Foreign Service (IFS) by a whisker. He often used to joke that his first preference was to join India’s diplomatic corps and travel the world at the government’s expense. By extension, I would have grown up very differently had I been born to a father living abroad most of his life.

Post-Retirement Life

       After retiring from the IAS in the year 2001, Baba and Maa settled down in the locality of Rajajipuram in Lucknow. This was a wrong move in retrospect as this area is very far from the cultural and social centres of Lucknow.  Most of Baba’s colleagues in the IAS had rightly chosen to build their respective homes in Gomti Nagar, which was closer to the heart of the city and received greater state attention in terms of civic services.

       Unsurprisingly, my father was not granted any of the post-retirement sinecures that come the way of most bureaucrats.  Many people who have occupied high positions of power in a hierarchical society like India tend to struggle to cope with retired life. This was not the case with Baba who kept himself busy by finding things to do to maintain his house, read the innumerable books in his study and watch news channels and cricket matches.  From 2006 onwards, he and Ma began spending the four months of the Indian summer (June-August) with me and my ex-wife in the US. Baba felt right at home in the US as he had access to the local public library thanks to my ex-wife who happened to be a librarian.  He would accompany my ex-wife to her workplace and ensconce himself in one of the spacious and comfortable study rooms with a book on any subject that caught his fancy! In the evening, he would excitedly tell me what all he read during the day. US public libraries also host book discussions and interactive sessions with authors. Attending such events was a source of great joy for him. He would diligently read the book that was the subject of an event and be ready with very trenchant comments and questions for the author as well as for those in the audience. I particularly remember one such meet the author event as I attended it as well. The author was a young African-American professor of English literature who had published a set of poems on the “Little Rock Nine”. These were the first African American students that were chosen to begin the process of school  desegregation in the US.  These African American students were the first batch to be admitted to a whites-only Little Rock Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas in 1957.  It was hilarious to see Baba turn into a fearsome literary critic during the Q and A session and interrogate the hapless professor! Baba was perhaps the only one in the audience that had read all the poems in the professor’s book and made a critical appraisal of each one.  Baba also accosted the professor in the reception that followed for further conversation on the historical, political and societal context of his poems. I am sure the professor’s PhD thesis committee would not have grilled him as thoroughly as Baba did that day!

       One of the first subjects that elicited his curiosity was the vast US interstate highway system.  From the moment he got off the plane for the first time in the US, Baba could not stop marvelling at these structures.  He became curious about the constellation of political forces that pushed these massive public works projects from conceptualisation to implementation.

A Special Association : Baba and K. P. Singh Uncle

My late father, Mr. S.K. Mukherjee IAS along with his friend Mr K P Singh.
My late father, Mr. S.K. Mukherjee IAS, along with his friend and coursemate from the National Academy of Administration (later renamed Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration, LBSNAA) in Mussoorie, Mr. K. P Singh during the Asian Games in New Delhi (Nov. 19–Dec. 4, 1982), Mr. K. P Singh was an officer in Indian Customs and posted at the very high-profile Palam Airport in the capital of India during this period. My father was Commissioner of Varanasi Division (1981–84) at that time. The trip from Varanasi to New Delhi for the 1982 Asian Games was very memorable for our family. I would like to thank Mr. K. P Singh for sharing this image from his personal collection.
Tribute by Mr. K. P. Singh Chief Commisioner, Customs (Retd.)
I have a fleeting memory of my association with Shaibal at the National Academy of Administration in Mussoorie in 1971. thereafter, we missed the connectivity for a long time. Later, he was posted in Agra as DM after the transfer of Mr. NR Banerjee. Our connectivity with Shaibal has become stronger and further cemented. We used to frequently meet each on numerous occasions and developed great liking for each other. What I found in him, as an officer, was his clarity of mind. He was not a confused officer, and what he did was full of logic. Later, in 1981, I was transferred to Palam airport, where we met 3–4 times and always had a wonderful time together. When he was posted in Varanasi as Divisional Commissioner, I visited there, and he came to the station to receive me and took me to his official residence. I was very touched by this gesture. I stayed with him and enjoyed his hospitality. Later, I, along with Manorama, my wife, and my two children, visited Varanasi for certain ceremonies. We met again and enjoyed his hospitality. Mrs. Shaibal was very hospitable to us. I remember meeting him when he was Food Secretary in the Lucknow Secretariat in the room of Shri Yadvendra Singh, Food Minister, with whom I had a close association and who was known to me. Thereafter, my memory fails me to recall anything because I was transferred to Bombay and he continued to be in Lucknow. Out of sight. Out of mind. Later, I learned from Bappa about his severe ailment when I called him. I also renewed connectivity, although not a happy one. I was shocked and pained to learn about Shaibal’s demise. I was stunned. He was a jolly good fellow. Very normal and down-to-earth gentleman. No arrogance. I always admired his earthly qualities. I pray his noble soul rests in peace. We cherish his fond memories. 
My college years:Hindu college(1992-1995)
October 1993 -Me, Math tutor, Diju and Rajiv Pramanik at Bada Imambada, Lucknow
Hindu College, Founders Day, February 15, 1993. I am on the extreme left.
We were preparing for CAT exams for 1994 December
In front of Hindu College Hostel November 1993. Diju and I

The always smartly dressed Diju with the efficient Pradeep. November 1993. Diju’s apartment in Mukherjee Nagar, Delhi.

Pradeep and I enjoying our youth together at Diju’s apartment in Mukherjee Nagar, Delhi. November 1993. Diju hosted Pradeep during the latter’s visit to Delhi from Mumbai. I was at Hindu hostel but moved in with Diju to keep Pradeep company. It was a marvellous hosting job by Diju and I. The three musketeers travelled extensively across the length and breadth of Old and New Delhi with Pradeep paying the auto fare!!!
June 1993. Somewhere in the mountains of Uttarakhand. Summer trip with my parents. It was on this trip that I had a serious quarrel with my Baba. Baba’s parting shot in that duel between father and son rings in my ears to this day!
November 1992. Rohit Jhunjhunwala’s rented apartment in Lajpat Nagar, where I stayed for the first three months of my BA (Hons.) in Political Science. Probably the first time I am drinking alcohol. (With me and Rohit are most of the Thriveni boys who had joined various colleges in Delhi University after their 12th board results.)

September 1992. Hindu College leisure trip to Dehradun & Mussoorie. I am the one with the purple cap.

Presenting a research paper on police reform in India

Niharika, Rupali, Nonika and I representing Hindu College September 1994 at Hindu College Auditorium.

My school years:Thriveni Academy(1990-1992),
ST.francis ‘ College(1984-1990)
The comfort one finds in interlocked arms of one’s mates can compensate for the most desultory of circumstances !Thriveni Academy. March 1992. This was taken during the board exams.
The parting note to my friend, the competent and intelligent Pradeep. This was right before we left for home for the summer vacations after finishing 11th standard.
The two “good” boys of the combined Arts & Commerce section, Diju and I with the two “Dadas” of our dormitory! Our Geography and Commerce teachers right there with us to save the good from evil! – Post-Board Exam March 1992
Boyish camaraderie at full display. 1990-91 in 11th standard. From left, Sanju from Bokaro, Diju from Imphal, Rajib Saha from Kolkata and me representing the peaceful and docile city in Eastern UP called Gorakhpur!

The arts/humanities group at the beach just after the 12th board exams. I am on the extreme right looking forlornly in the distance.

Sanjukta Chatterjee and Ianosha Majaw. The two girls in my class for whom I expressed an interest. However, my proposals were firmly turned down by both these lovely young ladies!!!
Ianosha and Sanjukta…years later. Perhaps discussing how they dodged a bullet called Bappaditya Mukherjee!

Ianosha Majaw on the left with her friends

1987-88 Class 9 D St. Francis’ College Lucknow.
Mrs. Nishi Pandey Class Teacher (English)

Dr. Nishi Pandey

Nishi Ma’am went on to have a stellar career in higher education and public life. She has recently retired from the Department of English and Modern European Languages at Lucknow University. She is one of the most important formative influences in my life. She not only acquired a PhD from Lucknow University after leaving St Francis but also got the prestigious Fulbright scholarship.
Mrs. Sanjukta Chatterjee-Maitra
Sanjukta Chatterjee Maitra is a native of Kolkata. She is a daughter, wife and a mother. She has extensive experience in the corporate world with stints in firms like the Tosahali Sand Field. As a young entrepreneur, Sanjukta founded a teacher recruitment firm called Mayajukta Teachers Placements in Kolkata. Through her persistent efforts, candidates were placed in a number of prestigious colleges including St. Xaviers. She was an educationist that appeared in different media outlets on the theme of teacher recruitment, training and professional development. She has also extensively coached prospective candidates for various corporate and public sector positions on grooming and business communication. She also has experience as an audio-visual anchor and dubbing artist.
Phone – 9433025462

“I won’t let you down
I will not give you up
Gotta have some faith in the sound
It’s the one good thing that I’ve got

I won’t let you down
There’s something deep inside of me
There’s someone I forgot to be
Take back your picture in a frame
Don’t think that I’ll be back again“

Relatives
Baba and Ma being fed by our relatives in Shithi, Kolkata
My mother, Mrs. Jayashree Mukherjee at a function.

Baba and Ma being fed by our relatives in Shithi, Kolkata

Baba and Ma being fed by our relatives in Shithi, Kolkata

Sh Swapon Kumar Mukherjee,Smt Krishna Mukherjee, Shantanu Mukherjee,Atanu Mukherjee
(Baba’s younger brother and his family)
Sithanshu Mukherjee s/o Late Nirmalendra Kumar Mukherjee
(Baba’s older brother who died at the young age of 35)
Smt Krishna Mukherjee

Tribute by Shantanu Mukherjee, my cousin

       Sh. Shaibal Kumar Mukherjee, my Jethu and elder brother to my father, served as a continual source of inspiration throughout my formative years. His life stood as a testament to the idea that one, with unwavering determination, strict discipline, and a strong will, could rise from humble beginnings to achieve great success. Jethu exuded positive energy, and during our family visits to his Lucknow residence in my childhood, I cherished moments spent listening to his conversations with my father—be it at the breakfast table or during the evening drink sessions before dinner.

       Our favorite discussions ranged from literature to politics, all conducted in impeccable British English. Both brothers were well-versed in the language, providing me with a rich experience as a child listening to their debates on various topics. Jethu, an eloquent speaker and adept moderator, skillfully navigated the sometimes heated discussions between the brothers. I also had the privilege of joining him on his morning walks, engaging in casual conversations despite the age gap.

Shantanu and Preetha

       Jethu was not only a captivating conversationalist but also a gracious host. Despite his numerous responsibilities, he ensured that our visits to his house were met with warmth and care. My most recent memory with him dates back to my Lucknow visit in 2019 with my wife, marking a reunion after 17-18 years. Despite his ailing health, upon learning of our presence in Lucknow, he extended an invitation to his flat. Concerned about our accommodation at a hotel, he accompanied us in the evening to verify our safety, emphasizing his characteristic thoughtfulness.

       I feel fortunate to have spent time with him after so many years, and these memories from my childhood days now hold even greater significance. May Almighty God bless his soul with peace in the afterlife.

THREE FRIENDS WHO MATTERED IN BABA’S CARE
With Prof. Venkat Raman of IIM Indore at NIMBA Nature Cure, an Ayurveda-based health resort in Mehsana, Gujarat. Dated May 2019.
A former classmate of mine from Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU), Professor Venkat, surpassed my expectations of a typical friendly obligation toward an old acquaintance. Alongside his delightful wife, Rama, and their two charming children, Nachiketa and Anvita, they seamlessly integrated into my family in Indore.Without him, I do not know how Baba and I would have survived the period, October 2019–January 2023. This period included the horrible global pandemic and Baba’s repeated hospitalizations due to his degenerative neurological disorders and hip fracture. Even I was hospitalized once, as I just couldn’t handle the stress of my situation. Through the good offices of Venkat, I was reconnected with my other mates from JNU, Dr. Ashish of the Indian Police Service (IPS), an MP cadre, and Gaurav Trivedi, an educationist in Mhow, MP. All these three individuals provided access to invaluable resources for me. Both Baba and I were very vulnerable to a number of exigencies and in need of extraordinary care.
The batchmate of Prof. Venkat, IIM Indore and I from Jawaharlal Nehru University, Dr. Ashish of the Indian Police Service (Madhya Pradesh cadre). He was extremely helpful in helping me care for Baba over the May 2020-January 2023 time period.

Dr. Ashish of the Indian Police Service(Madhya Pradesh Cadre)

Prof. Venkat, Baba, me and Gaurav Trivedi on the occasion of my birthday in September, 2020.

PROFESSIONAL colleagueS

With Mr. K. L. Gupta Director General of Police (DGP) Uttar Pradesh
With Mr. Arun Kumar, Chief Engineer (Irrigation). Mr.Arun Kumar was a close friend of Baba during the 1990s. He is best remembered for rescuing my parents and taking them to Civil Hospital in Lucknow, after they had met with a serious car accident one night in May 1996.
Baba with Mr. Banerjee IPS, UP cadre. The sign of “Non Veg” on the wall and an alcoholic beverage in hand is an apt characterization of Baba’s culinary preferences and nodding acquaintance with drinking whisky!
Kabza (Usurping) groups in Ulta (Opposite) Pradesh

Kunwar Fateh Bahadur IAS UP cadre ’81 batch. It was because of his intervention that a pesky tenant in my Baba’s Rajajipuram residence was successfully evicted. After my mother’s demise in June 2015, my father’s health deteriorated and his mannerisms became very child-like. My parents had rented out the first floor of their Rajajipuram home. The tenant turned out to be a very nefarious character. Due to my father’s neurological problems, he was clearly in no position to recognise the dangerous situation that this tenant presented to him. I decided to take matters into my own hands and have this tenant evicted. However, Baba was curiously lackadaisical. I contacted my relatives and his old friend Dr. Manohar Das Shukla. No one was willing to help. The only person in Lucknow who saw the problem and gave a solution was Kunwar Fateh Bahadur. He personally ensured that the then Deputy Inspector General (DIG) Lucknow led a team of 20 constables and evicted this tenant and his family. Prior to Mr Bahadur’s intervention I went to meet the incharge of local police station to complain about this tenant. The Thana in charge told me, “Rajajipuram ke 70 percent gharon ki yahi samasya hai. Kanoon ke haath bandhe huye hain”. In translation, “This (squatting by tenants) is the problem in 70% of houses in Rajajipuram. The hands of the law are tied.” In 24 hours, thanks to the assistance of Mr Fateh Bahadur, the hands of the law became untied. This episode is a small illustration of the horrible law and order situation of Uttar Pradesh, which is appropriately also called Ulta Pradesh.

Kunwar Fateh Bahadur IAS UP cadre ’81 batch

Mr. Chopra was the Chief General Manager, Samaj Kalyan Nirman Nigam Lucknow

A family friend and former colleague, Mr. Chopra was the Chief General Manager, Samaj Kalyan Nirman Nigam Lucknow.

A Special Association : Baba and Viswanathan uncle

N.A Viswanathan IAS UP Cadre ’72 Batch Former, Chief Electoral Officer, India

Extremely saddened to learn of the dad demise of your dear dad Sri Shaibal. I have had close association with him both at the personal and personal level when he was CEO UP and I was Dy Election Commissioner in Delhi. Always warm friendly and unflappable ,he had a legion of friends and well wishers as colleagues in the Service and we all cherish our association and friendship with him . We know he had been keeping unwell during the pandemic but due to all your support looking after I thought he had come out. It is as much a personal loss for me .Our Prayers for sadgati to the departed and strength and forbearance to you and family to bear this irreparable loss. Take care and draw strength from the fact that you have done all that one could to keep his last days comfortable.

A Special Association : Baba and Taori uncle

Dr. Kamal Taori IAS (Retd) ’68 UP Cadre

Dr. Kamal Taori IAS (Retd) ’68 UP Cadre. Now known as Kamalananda. Currently very active in contributing to national rejuvenation through his “Marketing the unmarketed” model, proposing and implementing sustainable alternatives to the current developmental paradigm.

Publications of Dr Kamal Taori IAS RETD '68 UP Cadre

Baba's Medical and Home Care

Baba being cared for by his able nurse, Mr Narayan
At the age 81, Baba was doing children’s puzzles to keep his awesome brain from degeneration Kindly shared by his patient and hardworking physiotherapist, Varsha who works in Indore.
Baba doing postoperative physical therapy, albeit reluctantly. October 2021.
This picture was taken in December 2021, 13 months prior to Baba’s passing. The location is NIMBA nature cure centre in Mehsana Gujarat. Baba and I visited this excellent health resort thrice between 2018-2021.
Baba undergoing physiotherapy in our Indore home
Mr. Narayan Prajapati
Full time nurse of Mr. Shaibal Kumar Mukherjee IAS Retd. (September 2021 – January 28th 2023
Narayan has recorded a voice message describing his experiences.
Savan Vansh. Has worked as the driver for Baba and I since December 2020.

In Loving Memory Offering Heartfelt Condolences

Mr. Kishore Kumar Sinha IAS UP

RIP Sri Shaiwal Mukherjee. I worked with him as RFC Agra in 1984. Travelled all the way from Lucknow to Agra in his car, with him and Mrs. Mukherjee. A not so attractive Food Minister landed in Agra with him and we had quite an adventure of sorts. Lots of memories. RIP. Deepest condolences to the family.

Mr. Sanat Anil IAS

Very sad news. My heartfelt
condolences to the bereaved
family. May God help them to
bear this irreparable loss and
may his soul rest in eternal
peace.

Mr. Rajive Kumar IAS UP '81

Our heartfelt condolences. He was Commissioner VNS. when I was a probationer in Mirzapur. A very pleasant and relaxed personality who put even juniors at ease. A great sense of humour. Om Shanti.

Mr. Kush Verma Delhi IAS

Heartfelt condolences. May his soul attain Sadgati. Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti!

Mr. Anuj Bishnoi EKN IAS

Deepest condolences! I was DM Mau and he was my Commissioner at Gorakhpur. By far the best boss I have ever had. A rare honour and privilege to work with him. Always so pleasant, positive and supportive. A huge loss, so very personal. May his soul rest in peace and may God give the strength to his family to bear this huge loss. Om shanti.

Mr. Devendra Chaudhry IAS UP '81

What to say of him. A bundle of joy, mirth. Intellectual integrity, informal to the boot, yet firm in his belief system A great great boss and warm mentor. How can I forget him. Except to feel sad of not meeting him in fact after Gorakhpur i guess except maybe once.
Sir Pardon this humungous misdemeanour now from Heaven where you may rest in peace.
My spouse joins me in paying our respects and regards to the departed soul.

Mr. Avinash K Srivastav IAS UP '82

Late Mr Shaibal Mukherjee was my Commissioner in Gorakhpur when i was DM in Siddhartha Nagar in 1991- 92. He was extremely warm, royal yet hospitable and a great bureaucrat. May the divine soul rest in peace in Heaven and be one with Him. May the Almighty give strength to the family to bear this irreparable loss. Varuna and Avinash.

Mr. N .A. Viswanathan IAS UP '72

Sri Shaibal Mukherjee was an extremely amiable person with a friendly disposition. He was Chief Electoral Officer of UP when as Dy CEO I had v close association.A personal loss, indeed. Heartfelt condolences to the bereaved family and prayers for Sadgati to the departed. N A VISWANATHAN.

Mr. Devendra Chaudhry IAS UP '81

What to say of him. A bundle of joy, mirth. Intellectual integrity, informal to the boot, yet firm in his belief system A great great boss and warm mentor. How can I forget him. Except to feel sad of not meeting him in fact after Gorakhpur i guess except maybe once.

Mr. Subhash Sharma IAS UP '96

My heartfelt condolences . May god rest the departed soul in eternal peace. Om shanti.

Mr. Bachittar Sinah IAS UP

Extremely sad to hear this shocking news. May the Almighty rest his soul in peace and tranquility and provide strength to bear the irreparable loss.

Mr. Naresh Dayal IAS

Very sad news of Mr Shaibal Mukherjee passing away. Our heartfelt condolences to the bereaved family. May God give them the strength and forbearance to bear this loss. May his soul rest in peace. Naresh & Pratima Dayal.

Mr. Mukul Singhal IAS UP '86

Sincere condolences for the Mukherjee family. That he was a warm and encouraging officer is clear from the writings on this group. I never worked with him but had met him at Lucknow a few times. 0m Shanti.

Mr. N S Ravi IAS

Our condolences to the bereaved family. May the departed soul find sadgati

Mr. J S Mishra IAS UP '80

Extremely sad news. Heartfelt deep condolences . Pray for eternal peace to the great departed soul . Om Shantih.

Mr. Desh Deepak Verma IAS

Our heartfelt condolences to the family of Shaibal Mukerji Sir. Let his soul rest in peace.

Mr. Rakesh Garg IAS UP '80

Oh! so sad! He was my divisional commissioner in Varanasi where I was posted as ADM (development). A very upright and bold officer. I really enjoyed my interactions with him and learnt a lot. I pray for sadgati to his departed soul and strength to his family members to bear this great loss.

Mrs. Seetha Ramani IAS

DC has summed up his personality very well. I was Special Secy Agriculture when he happened to be one of my several Secretaries. He gave full freedom of operation to his subordinates & when things went wrong used to strongly defend them in front of his bosses. Soldier like as he happened to be an Ex Army officer. I would like to salute him. Let his soul RIP. R.Ramani.

Mr. Subodh IAS

A very huge loss.A banian
of the Service.A real officer
with steel frame . Heartfelt
condolences to the family
and pray to God to bless him
sadgati.
Om Shantih Shantih Shantih

Mr. Rajendra Bhonwal IAS UP '79

Feeling very sad to hear the news of passing away of shri Mukherjee. I had an opportunity to work with him during early days of my carrier as RFC when he was Food Secretary. Very fine officer and a caring guardians. His passing away seems to be a personal loss. Our heartfelt condolences to the family of Shri Mukherjee.

Mr. Anuj Bishnoi EKN IAS

DC, Fateh Bahadur and I were DMs with him as Commissioner Gorakhpur. We three may not agree on many things but one thing we agree on. That we were blessed to work with him! Wish we had more time with him.

Mr. Vishwanand IAS

Sad to hear the news about the demise Of Shaibal.He was a fine gentleman with a very calm demeanour.Deepest condolonces to his family.May his soul rest in peace.Om Shantih

Mr. Sanjay Agarwal IAS UP '84

My Heartfelt Condolences May the departed soul rest in peace Om Shanti.

Mr. Alok Sinha IAS

Shaibal Da was a real “hands-on” officer…rarely seen in the system…. Great guy….RlP.

Mr. Deepak J S Deepak IAS

Heartfelt condolences

Mrs. Chanchal Tiwari IAS UP '83

Heart-felt condolences to the family of Sri SK Mukherjee Sir!

Mr. K CHANDRAMOULI IAS UP '79

Heartfelt condolences.

Mr. Jagan Chamber IAS UP '79

Heartfelt condolences.

Mrs. Monika S. Garg IAS UP '89

Om shanti

Mr. A K Jain IAS UP '79

Heartfelt Condolences.

Mr. Sanjiv Saran IAS

My deepest condolences.

Mr. Nitin Rames IAS UP '90

Deepest condolences Om Shanti

Mr. Sanjiv Nair IAS UP '79

Very sorry to see the sad news. Our condolences to the family. RIP

Mrs. Archana Agarwal IAS UP '90

Sincere Condolences. Om Shanti.

Mr. Devraj IAS UP '96

Sincere condolences

Mr. Ajitseth Residentcomm IAS

My deepest condolences.

Mrs. Kalpana Awasthi IAS UP '88

Deepest condolences Om Shanti

Mr. Veena Upadhyaya IAS

Heartfelt condolences. May Mr. Mukherjee Sir’s soul rest in peace!

Mr. Devendra Chaudhary IAS UP '81

Good Lord
Oh my God
Shocking
Moreso I had been wanting to meet him for last two months and somehow as bad luck would have it I couldn’t

In fact I was mentioning it to Mr VN Channa sir the other day in the Golf club and Harish Chandra sir also.

In fact had I known he is in Indore I would have met him as I was in Indore three days back

Good lord
I may not see his remains also. Too bad too bad
Was one of the most AFFCTIONATE PERSON I have met in my Life.

Never one his equal do I know

I join with Anuj in grieving his loss to us

Baba's Medical Team

Doctors

Dr. Rashid Hasan

MBBS, Diploma – Orthopedics, DNB – Orthopaedics
A Consultant at the department of Orthopaedics in Bombay Hospital, Dr. Rashid Hasan has over a decade of rich professional experience in his field. His a interest lies in primary and revision hip and knee replacement, arthroscopic reconstruction and complex fractures of upper and lower limb. Dr. Rashid Hasan has treated several patients suffering from bone disorders in India and gives every patient the best of medical care. Dr. Rashid Hasan has published several papers in India and abroad and is a member of prestigious medical associations. He believes in promoting health awareness and following a healthy lifestyle.

Dr. Alok Mandliya

MBBS, MD – Internal Medicine, DM – Neurology
Neurologist Dr. Alok Mandliya has 13 years of expertise and is quite talented. He works as a consultant in the neurology division at Bombay Hospital, one of Mumbai’s premier multi-specialty hospitals. With his MBBS, MD Internal Medicine, and DM in Neurology, Dr. Mandli qualified to treat a range of neurological problems. Treatment of individuals with stroke, mobility difflculties, and neuromuscular illnesses are of particular concern to him. Dr. Mandliya has helped many people overcome their neurological disorders and lead healthy lives thanks to his vast knowledge and experience. His patient- friendly demeanour and empathy have earned him a reputation as one of Mumbai’s most sought-after neurologists.

Dr. D K Vatsal

MBBS, MS and MCH
Dr. D K Vatsal is a renowned Neurosurgeon in Lucknow. He is an MBBS, MS and MCH. Some of the neurology diseases treated by him are muscle weakness, paralysis, head tumor, epilepsy, neck pain, stroke, brain tumor, sclerosis, Alzheimer, Parkinson’s etc. He is available for consultation at Icon Hospital located at Public School, Sahara State Road Near, Sec-F, Jankipuram, Lucknow. Dr. D K Vatsal, top Neurosurgeon in Lucknow is available at Doctoriduniya.com, so you can book an online appointment and consult with him.

Physiotherapists

Dr. Viplav Mishra

I am Dr VIPLAV MISHRA, physiotherapist by profession and running my own clinic named SWASHRIT PHYSIOTHERAPY AND WELLNESS CENTRE located at 115 Brajnayani colony Limbodi Khandwa Road Indore, Madhya Pradesh since past 3 years.
I have done my Bachelor’s in Physiotherapy from Shri Aurobindo Institute of Medical Science Indore. I also have certifications on Nutrition and fitness training. I have also worked as fitness consultant for Healthifyme Pvt ltd. I also have hands on experience and certification on CPR&FIRST AID and I am also Certified Advanced Cardiac Life Support Provider from American Heart Association.
During the Pandemic, I have also worked as an active Covid Warrior at Shri Aurobindo Institute of Medical Science Indore.
I have also delivered lectures on CPR, fitness training, food and nutrition at SAGE UNIVERSITY INDORE.
Till date, successfully rehabilitated more than 700 stroke patients and several orthopaedic patients.
I believe majority of the patients who deal with some kind of pain get treated with just a proper counseling and correct guidance at correct time. My main aim is to help as many as patients to live independently and that is one of the main reason behind name of my clinic i. e SWASHRIT. It means to stay independent which gave a slogan to my clinic i.e “Be Healthy, Be Swashrit “
My experience with Late Mr. SK Mukherjee sir:
It was around the end of September 2022 when I took his case and was there till his last day. I still remember and often share this with some of my friends that how he used to refuse to go out to the passage for walk without his Cap, trousers and watch. So whenever he refused to do his exercises, I used to give him his cap and watch and then he used to be very active. Initially he showed such a wonderful recovery that within few days he was able to walk in a straight line and could do sit ups. But this condition got deteriorated at peak of winters..
I have worked with a number of civil servants and it was a great pleasure for me to be a part of his treatment. It was a also a great learning experience as I believe every patient teaches us something or the other.

Dr.Varsha Birla

Physiotherapist
I am Dr. Varsha Birla, a physiotherapist by profession. I completed my Bachelors at Choithram College of Paramedical Sciences in Indore. Currently, I work at Aarogyam Physiotherapy and Rehabilitation Centre in Silicon City, Indore. I would like to share my experience working with Mr. SK Mukherjee sir, whom I affectionately call “Dada ji” because he reminds me of my grandfather. I began his case on January 22, 2022. At our first meeting (1st day session), he greeted me with a warm smile and happiness in his eyes. When I asked for his name, he was unable to speak, and his son informed me that he is my baba. My overall experience has been incredible. Mr. Mukherjee is exceptionally polite, and after each session, I always give him chocolate, which he eagerly awaits. When I started his physio sessions, he was bedridden. However, with gradual progress, I managed to improve his condition. Within 2-3 weeks, he could stand on his own feet, leaving both his son and caretaker pleasantly surprised. He always blesses me like his own daughter. I have two video clips documenting his sessions that I can share. Throughout my career, I have had the privilege of working with various civil servants, and being part of his treatment has been a rewarding and enlightening experience. If you have any inquiries, you can reach me at 7470929993.

Dr. Hetal thakkar

Physical therapist
(MPT- msk) (MA yoga)
Aerobic instructor
Certified manual therapist, practising in osteopathy chiropractic Dry needling
10 years experience
Email – hetalthakkar556@gmail.com
Instagram – hetalthakkar4546

The Two Knights in Shining Armour

These two individuals alerted me to Baba’s deteriorating health condition in his home in Rajajipuram, Lucknow. Without their intervention, I would have lost my father 6 years earlier. I owe them a tonne of gratitude
Rajesh Kumar

UP State Vigilance Commision

Rakesh Kumar

UP State Election Commission

KEY BOOKS IN MY RELATIONSHIP WITH BABA

A small contribution to the marriage of these two underprivileged girls was made in the name of Baba in Kolkata 27.01.2024

Subhendu – Sangeeta
Srabani- Niranjan

Puja Ceremonies and Feasts for the Underprivileged: Baba's First Death Anniversary

I would also like to share with you that on the solemn occasion of the first death anniversary of Mr. Shaibal Kumar Mukherjee on the 28th of January 2024, a prayer ceremony and feast for underprivileged persons is being planned by me to pray for the continued peace of the departed soul. The famed Shree Rameshwaram Jyotirlinga Shivam Temple in Rameshwaram, Tamil Nadu will be the venue for this event.

A similar ceremony and feast was organised in Indore Madhya Pradesh.

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Dear Bappa, I am Shaibal’s childhood

Dear Bappa,
I am Shaibal’s childhood friend at Ganj Bazar Meerut along with Vijay Chaturvedi .I just discovered your website just now. I had last seen him when he was at VNS as commissioner and you were also a small child. I had a number of shared memories as
close friends and I was loved by all your family members particularly by your affectionate grand mother.Your writeup revoked memories o how Shaibal became engrossed with History while studying Science and Maths . In fact in my 84 years journey of life Shaibal’s friendship and close association during our growing daya s always remains the most chrished phase of life.I hope I may be able to put many cherished memories in words sometimes later. I am currently puting up with my son Vivek Mathur who is a senior Software Manager with GE at Hyderabad.
I am also keen to know about both of your younger uncles and also abou Nirmal Bhaisahebs family who were earlier at Banaras. Shaibal bought these History books by L Mukerji while visiting Calcutta for Didis’ weddings.

Harish Chandra Mathur
8800971518

Dear Bappa, Your messages inspired me

Dear Bappa,

Your messages inspired me to explore the website you’ve created in memory of Uncle. As I delved into its content, I discovered the depth of your writing skills and learned more about the intriguing life of a bureaucrat’s child, along with the associated challenges and experiences.

I must say, you embody the qualities of a true Sravan Kumar, and I am proud to know you. The narratives on the website provided me with profound insights into Uncle’s remarkable personality. It’s unfortunate that I never had the chance to meet him personally, despite our acquaintanceship. Nonetheless, the website allowed me to grasp the essence of his personality and the impact he had on those around him.

Your thoughtful gesture of acknowledging and valuing every person who played a role, directly or indirectly, in Uncle’s life is truly touching. It has also provided me with a deeper understanding of who you are as an individual.

Take care, and may you continue to be blessed!

Rajesh Dubey
+91-9818022199