The Trial By Fire: Memoirs Of A College Principal

By G. Ramachandram

This autobiography is a rare story of the courage and conviction of a person holding a position of power and authority, taking on the high and the mighty, refusing to buckle under pressure and commit acts which are unethical and illegal, risking his career time and again in the process. The author had a journey in defiance, fighting relentlessly against the corrupt system. During his tenureship of two decades, he had to often face ‘the trails by fire’, in order to secure his college with a solid foundation of perennial values, transparency and commitment to truth. This is a tale of that journey.

The autobiography is in four parts.

Part: Blissful ignorance- narrates the life of a rustic village boy and his journey of transformation.

Part II: Awakening- is about the author’s struggle to find meaning and purpose for existence and the story of how he became a teacher, quite by chance.

Part III: Rise – is regarding his appointment and role as the Principal, the conspiracy to scuttle the appointment and his legal battles.

Part IV: Turbulence- is about his uninterrupted nerve-racking duel with multiple authorities to reinstate the truth and justice and protect the institution of a Principal. It is also about how by taking a high moral ground and displaying a young, prompt and agile frame of mind, he weathered a turbulent period of calculated verbal assaults, aimed at making him dispirited and crippled. Needless to say, the truth ultimately triumphed. This is the first time that such an autobiography has been penned by the Head of any educational institution, giving a gripping account of his torrid time. A story of grit and determination through personal and professional set-backs which have not been able to deter him from his mission. The book makes an interesting and inspirational read. It is rich, engaging and extremely truthful.

The head of educational institution, particularly the future generation of academic administrators will definitely profit by it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Jun 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9789352018642

G. Ramachandram

DR. G. RAMACHANDRAM, moulded in Nehruvian and the Gandhian ideals and values, is a man of deep convictions and impeccable personal integrity. He holds a first-class Master’s Degree in Political Science from the University of Bombay. A student of Jawaharlal Nehru, he was awarded a PhD by the University of Bombay for his thesis: ‘Jawaharlal Nehru: His contribution to world peace’. It was the first time that any scholar undertook a full-fledged research on Pandit Nehru, covering the entire period of his Prime Ministership, for a comprehensive assessment of his impact on the world. His research work was published as a book, ‘Nehru and World Peace’. He also has to his credit the book, ‘Quaid-e-Azam: Muhammad Ali Jinnah‘- a translation of biographical novel ‘Pratinayak’, based on the life of the founder of Pakistan.A Professor of Political Science, he has a distinguished teaching career spanning over three decades. He had been a Visiting Professor for thirteen years at the All India Institute of Local Self-Government, Mumbai, where he delivered lectures on ‘Public Administration’ to the trainee officers from Municipal Bodies.He has to his credit 185 research papers and articles published in leading journals and newspapers. He has participated in around 150 states, national and international seminars and conferencesand presented papers on issues ranging from academic, to administrative to socio-economic and political.As the first Principal of the Kandivali Education Society’s Shroff College, Mumbai– a State aided ‘A’ Grade Institution affiliated to the University of Mumbai, for eighteen long years, he laid its ethical foundation, nurtured and guided the College with far-sighted vision, exceptional courage and integrity and turned it into a first-rate institution in the city. He is an expert on College administration and campus discipline, a resource person for the Executive Development Programme (EDP) for College Principals.He has been the Founder Secretary, Association of Indian College Principals-- the first registered national organization of its kind in India. He was elected unopposed as its President for a term of three years. Presently, he is the Convener of its Board of Trustees.He can be contacted at: [e-mail]

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PREFACE

I feel inclined to say that mine has been an extraordinary journey – full of difficulties, challenges and adversities. Right from the childhood until I retired, I faced numerous challenges. The option was always open before me – to either quit or accept the challenges. A strong desire to be honest and truthful to myself and live up to the ideals that moulded me remained within me throughout my journey, backed by a firm will power. I am a self made man, who endured pain and learnt to overcome personal misfortunes, without getting overly sensitive and emotional.

My story is an experiment with truth – of facing life as it came with grace and dignity, without compromising on moral and ethical values. To me, it was simply a question of practicing what I believed in. Given the choice again, I would not deviate from the path I chose.

It was my cousin G. Srinivas, who made me make a public commitment a few years ago that I would write my story one day. But I wasn’t sure how to go about it as I found it too complicated. However, after my wife Vani’s sudden and untimely tragic demise in 2015, the resolve to write my story grew stronger. Rev. Fr. Joseph Dias, retired Principal, St. Xavier’s College, Mumbai, who closely observed my trials and tribulations as the Principal, in one of his most generous and gracious letters had described my career as ’The trials by fire’. In early 2016, I met him at Snehasadan, Andheri, Mumbai, and shared the idea of penning my story. He said mine was an inspiring story that must be told. I adopted his words as the title of the story. And with all humility, I would say my life has indeed been a ‘trial by fire’. I never understood why it was so difficult to lead a truthful life. Then I realized, I had to convey the fact, that with rugged determination and perseverance one could overcome hurdles in life, however insurmountable they might sound, and lead an honest and truthful life.

After all, what is the meaning and purpose of life?

In narrating my story, I had to take the names and connect the events that impacted me in order to ensure that the inferences drawn in the story do not sound fictitious. I have no other motive. I am grateful to the people whom I have had the privilege of meeting, working and interacting with during my turbulent journey. I do not carry any animosity. Though I fought many bitter battles in the long caravan of life, I never entertained any ill-will or malice towards anyone.

I have tried to narrate the events as they unfolded, in a chronological order, as far as possible, rather than narrate the story event-wise, to ensure continuity. Looking back, sometimes I wonder how I survived all that. I do believe it is a rare story of extraordinary courage, guts and gumption ever heard in the academic circles.

I express my profound gratitude to Professor P.Shekhar for his invaluable inputs, taking the trouble of going through the whole manuscript minutely, making corrections, giving very positive and encouraging feedback and rendering logistical help in writing the story.

Mumbai,

Vijayadashmi,

October 11, 2016

G.Ramachandram

PART I

Blissful ignorance

1

A RUSTIC VILLAGE BOY

I was born on May 10, 1949 in a small non-descript village Sunkanpally, Taluka Ramannapeth in Nalgonda District of the erstwhile Nizam State of Hyderabad, about 70 km from the city. The feudal State of Hyderabad was socially, educationally and economically very backward and culturally stagnant. The village of around hundred households had no school, no post office and no connecting road. Most of the households were mud-houses. The village was surrounded by paddy fields, hillocks and rocky barren land.

My mother Narsamma died when I was eleven months old. I had no memory of her. I was an only child to my parents. My father Ganduri Hanumantaiya had remarried a girl Anasuya, from another village Palivela. He got involved in the anti-Razakar movement. He was opposing the Razakars- the armed bandits of Nizam- who were fighting against the merger of the State of Hyderabad into the Union of India. The Razakars had unleashed a reign of terror, resorted to arson and looting and even murdering the people opposing the Nizam rule. Somehow, my father escaped the arrest. Soon after his second marriage, he left for Bombay in search of a job. His wife Anasuya had joined him later. They had four children–two sons and two daughters – Sudarshan, Govardhan, Laxmi and Sushila. I was cut off from my father and the family.

I was brought up by my paternal grandmother Kanakamma. To me, she was Amma. I grew up in the village with paternal uncles Satyanarayana and Laxminarayana-younger brothers of my father. My paternal grandfather Ganduri Ramaiah, in spite of not having much formal education, was a very knowledgeable person. Most of my understanding of the epics Ramayana and Mahabharata was through the oral narration and recitation and the folk lore songs and the street plays such as Harikata, Yakshagana and Puppet shows that the nomadic artists used to perform those days.

We had no particular religious traditions to follow. Though there are many superstitious practices, rites and rituals performed by Hindus, Hinduism, being an unorganized religion, accommodates in its fold everyone born in a Hindu family. To practice the faith or not is the choice left to the individual. I had grown up without any religious dogmas. That way I am a Hindu by birth with no strings attached.

I would do all sorts of household chores to help my grandmother as there was no other female member in the family. My paternal uncles had married much later when I was in my mid-teens. My grandmother was too harsh and demanding. She would not allow me much freedom to go out and play, leaving the household chores. If I ventured out to play, leaving the household chores, she would often chase me and bring me back to the house and beat me up with a cane. And if I cried, she would beat me again until I stopped crying.

Sometimes, the nomadic drama troupes that moved from one village to another, camping on the outskirts of the villages, used to visit our village and give street performances depicting the stories from the Ramayana and other mythological stories. These used to attract the villagers. I would never miss them, as that was the only entertainment in an otherwise listless village life.

In those days, Dussera used to be a very big festival in the village. It was celebrated as Vijayadashmi. In the evening, elders and prominent people would assemble at the village Kachari and walk in a procession, singing bhajans, particularly Gandhiji’s favourite bhajan – Raghupathi Raghav Raja Ram-marching towards a tree, that is believed to have protected the armaments of the Pandava brothers in the last year of their exile-on the outskirts of the village, take a few rounds and then pluck some leaves and greet each other. I would wear new clothes on that day and join the procession. Later in the night, my uncle Laxminarayana would take a portrait of Lord Rama in a ‘palkhi’ and carry it in a procession across the village, singing bajans in chorus, with the people forming circle, singing and dancing in a rhythm. I used to participate in that. All these rituals were carried out with great gaiety and fervour. I looked forward to the Dussera festival and it continues to remind me of triumph of good over evil.

I had never ventured out of the village, except the times when I accompanied my grandfather two or three times to visit some relatives in the nearby villages. The small village was my universe. I was a rustic village boy. It was a very hard life, with no escape route anywhere. My childhood was listless. It was too unkind to recall. At one stage the family even contemplated giving me up for adoption to a distant relative, who didn’t have a child.

2

SCHOOLING

I learnt Telugu from a teacher called Rangaiah Panthulu who used to conduct classes in a make-shift room of somebody’s house. Since my village had no school, I was admitted to the 1st standard in a primary school located in another village called Gundrampally. I, along with some other children would walk barefoot to the school – 2 km away – as there was no road connecting to Gundrampally. Particularly during the rainy season, the route we followed would get flooded at many places and we had to wade through the knee high water, with the fear of being swept away by the floods lurking in the back of our minds. We would reach the school very late and return home late in the evening. The school didn’t have its own premises and hence it was housed in some old house. I studied there till the IVth standard, which I managed to pass through a public examination.

One day I was playing in my village school with some children and was swinging from a height when a boy pulled my legs very hard I lost my grip and fell down, and landed on my right hand. My right hand got fractured so it was bandaged with some herbal plants prescribed by an Ayurvedic doctor who treated me. For a few months, I missed the school. The village was famous for its Ayurvedic doctors and people from Hyderabad and other faraway places used to come to our village for Ayurvedic treatment.

After completing the primary education in Gundrampally, I was out of school for about two months because joining upper primary school would mean going to another big village. At the end of July 1959, when I was around ten years old, I was taken to the village Velminedu and admitted to the Vth standard.

Velminedu was located at a distance of 6 km from Sunkanpally and had no road connecting it to our village. We were around five or six children and I was the youngest amongst them. The route that we followed to reach the school was through paddy fields, barren lands and sand, which often resulted in me getting hurt by stones and thorns on the way as I had to walk barefoot. The older children would bully and stop me from going to the school, resulting in either my missing the school altogether or reaching very late, hence inviting the wrath and punishment from the teachers. We would leave our village early morning for school and return by late evening, extremely hungry after covering the distance of 12 km to and from by foot every day. I carried no lunch box, which meant going without lunch during the lunch break in the school too.

During the summer months of March and April, the school observed half days, and luckily used to get over at noon. We used to start walking back to the village in the hot scorching sun and walking on the sandy barren lands, used to be like walking barefoot on fire. I would run to the nearest tree and stand under its shadow for some time and then run towards another tree. I used to get headaches and fever and fall ill frequently, hence missing school for days at a stretch.

The school had a huge playground, with facilities for sports like football, volley ball, kabaddi, Kho-kho, carom, etc. I was eager to take part in the sports. At times I used to stay back after the school hours to play the games, but hardly got the chance, missing the company of boys on the way back home. The other children from Sunkanpally would leave the school as soon as the school hours were over in order to reach home before the sun set. I had to suppress the instinct to stay back and participate in the sports, for the fear of being left alone. Sometimes, I used to walk alone, which was rather scary.

The school had a healthy practice of celebrating Independence Day and Republic Day, by holding sports competitions for the children. I would take part in the flagrance and being so frail and weak often fall on my face midway. The school used to have a cultural programme on Republic Day. After attending the programme in the evening, some of us would stay back in the school premises but I never got the chance to participate in any of the programmes.

I was an average student, and had serious problems in coping up with the studies. When-I-was admitted to the school, two months after its reopening, a few lessons were already completed in all the subjects. I had a serious problem particularly with English language. In Telugu medium schools, English as the third language was introduced in the Vth standard, Hindi being the second language. By the time I joined the school, the children in the class were already taught all the formats of English alphabet and a few lessons were taught from the text book. I was an odd boy in the class. I didn’t learn the English alphabet. And the English teacher Ram Reddy expected me to read the English lessons from the text book, like other children. He would thrash me if I didn’t read. He made no efforts to understand my predicament. Fortunately, I managed to learn the English alphabet from a lady- Sarojini- who happened to be the first from my village to have passed the Higher Secondary Certificate (HSC) Examination, conducted by the Board of Higher Secondary Education, Hyderabad Deccan. She tutored me and taught the lessons that I had missed in the School. After that, I stopped going to her. I never understood the lessons taught by Ram Reddy. The other subject that frightened me was Mathematics. I had no textbook and never practiced anything, nor could understand the explanations that the Maths teacher wrote on the blackboard, though he was supposed to be a good teacher of his subject. It was only when I entered the secondary section and reached the VIIIth standard that I began to fare somewhat better in the class exams, marginally improving in my performance. I was also weak in Science.

The ambience of the school was good and teachers in the school were sincere and committed to their profession. I particularly remember the history teacher Ganga Raju, who hailed from East Godavari District of Andhra Pradesh, and the Mathematics and Science teacher Shastry, also from the coastal Andhra region. —It was the Maths teacher who made us solve the previous question papers of the HSC exam and that helped me to improve my understanding of Maths, especially Arithmetic. This had ultimately rescued me in the HSC exam. The school Head Master Veeranarayana Sharma was a Telugu Pandit, holding a Master’s degree in Telugu literature. He would recite poems with appropriate gestures, raising the voice which often echoed through asbestos roof-tops. His voice was melodious and musical and could be heard in the neighbouring classes. It was a treat to listen to him reciting the poems.

I never had proper text books and note books. I used to buy the second hand text books of a few subjects, particularly the languages. There was no habit of reading the lessons at home or doing any homework as there was barely any time left after returning from school and doing the household chores. Whenever I did get a chance, I would quietly sneak out of the house, without my grandmother noticing, and play with the children. We played games like kabaddi, ghotis, spinning tops, gili-danda, kho-kho and sometimes even cards, with all sorts of denominations of empty cigarette packs, allotting points depending on rating of the brand- higher the brand more would be the points. And when I returned home my grandmother would get furious. I studied just a few days before the final school examinations; all it meant was mugging a few things here and there without much understanding. I studied under the kerosene lamp which we had at home.

Our house in the village was sort of a cultural centre and it attracted lot of people for different reasons. Some people would come to meet my grandfather to know the ‒auspicious time and day for undertaking family functions. He would consult the Panchangam and tell them what to do and when, based on astrology. Uncle Laxminarayana was a creative person. He used to write the script and dialogues and make the villagers memorize them to perform Ramayana as a street play and I used to be his assistant. The street play called Chirutala Ramayanam was performed with each character wearing the appropriate costumes and other accessories. My uncle played the role of Lord Rama, as he had a melodious voice, and I played the role of Akshay. He would recite poems and read the stories from Bhagavatam and other fairy tales, at the bidding of my grandfather.

I spent six formative years of my growing up period in the school at Velminedu, a Zillah Parishad High School. When I was in the IXth standard, the school; fortunately for me, was upgraded to Xth standard. Otherwise, my studies could have ended there as the only other High School those days was situated at Taluka Ramannapeth. And going to the Taluka HQs, staying there and attending the school to complete the Xth standard was out of question. That was a luxury only the rich, from well-to-do families could afford. Velminedu was the second High School in the Taluka.

I appeared for the HSC Examination in March 1965, and out of 24 students, who appeared for the exam from the school, only four had passed. I passed the HSC Exam in third class, while the other three managed to secure second class. The HSC examination was considered very tough, because it comprised of three years integrated courses of VIII, IX and X and a common public examination for the three major subjects- Science, Mathematics and Optional subjects. In all, there were seven subjects, carrying 700 marks.

I could pass the HSC examination because of the Board regulation. As per the regulation, any candidate having secured a minimum of 35 per cent marks in aggregate could be declared pass if he had secured a minimum of 25 marks in any two subjects. This Rule was printed in the Mark sheet. No grace marks were added to the subjects in which the candidate scored between 26 and 34 Marks. Most of the Boards, including the Maharashtra State Secondary and Higher Secondary Board, add up to 10 grace marks outright to ensure that a candidate secures the minimum passing marks 35 in all the subjects. Accordingly, no SSC or HSC mark sheet shows less than 35 in any subject. However, the HSC Board Hyderabad had carried in the mark sheets the actual marks secured by the candidate. So my HSC mark sheet shows that I had secured 27 and 26 marks in Hindi and English respectively. Having studied in Telugu medium, I was not good in Hindi and English. The language teachers never encouraged us to speak in Hindi and English. They would simply teach the Hindi and English lessons in Telugu. And consequently, the students could never learn these languages and acquire proficiency in them. This is a serious problem even now in the vernacular medium schools across the country, putting the non-English medium students at disadvantage when they pursue higher education or seek jobs.

However, passing the HSC examination was considered a big achievement in those days. In fact, in my own village, some boys belonging to the Reddy community had the distinction of failing at the HSC Exam several times and ultimately giving up studies. I was the fifth one in my village to have passed the most important prestigious pubic examination. There was an important satirical drama. When I was in the Xth standard, I played the role of a hero in a satirical play Yama Loka Yatra (Journey to Hell) performed in my village. The hero in the play fails at the HSC Examination seven times and unable to live the ignominy, he commits suicide. Then he was taken to Yama Lok (Hell) and presented before the Yamaraj. In the Yama Lok, Yamaraj grants him the wish to become a ‘Dilip Kumar ’- the famous Bollywood actor- and sends him back to Earth. The boy returns triumphant and becomes a famous Cinema actor. Incidentally, my seniors from the village, who used to torment me, had subsequently dropped from the school, unable to cope up with the studies.

All these years I didn’t step out of my village. Until I completed the HSC Examination, I stayed with my grandparents and uncles. I didn’t even board a bus, except taking a state transport bus for the first time to go to Taluka HQs to write the HSC Exam. I was a raw village boy – cut off completely from the society at large, blissfully ignorant about the outside world but passing the HSC Examination had changed all that.

3

A TURNING POINT

Sometime in June 1965, when I was sixteen years old, I boarded the Hyderabad-Bombay Express at the Hyderabad Railway Station, also known as Nampalli Station. My uncle Satyanarayana, under whom I completed the HSC Examination, was taking me to Bombay to join my father and the family. It was the first time that I was in Hyderabad city to board a train- also for the first time. This train route was to become a routine affair subsequently. My father worked in the folding department of Gold Mohur textile mill in Dadar. My brothers- Sudharshan and Govardhan and my sister Laxmi- were born by then. They were small children- the eldest among them Sudharshan being seven years old- nine years younger than me. And Sushila- the youngest- was born two years later in 1967. We stayed in Bhandukwala Building, Bhoiwada-Parel, close to the Tata Memorial Hospital.

My father used to visit our village every three to four years, while I was staying with my grandparents and uncles. He would stay in the village for a few days and return to Bombay. He was more like a stranger to me whenever he visited the village. I don’t remember him ever buying any gift for me. I had no contact with him or with my siblings. The purpose of taking me to Bombay was for me to help my father in running the family and not for pursuing my higher studies. Soon after I joined him, my father got me a job in his folding department. He declared that I was 18 years old. Being undernourished, underweight, thin and bony, I looked more like a TB patient.

When I was hardly 16 years old, I started working and supporting my father and the family. As a faithful son, I would hand over the monthly salary to my father. I joined the evening typing classes at R M Bhatt High School, Parel –opposite KEM Hospital, and later joined the short-hand classes in the same school. Being a raw hand, fresh from the village, not able to converse in English confidently, I had great difficulty in learning typing and the short-hand. I was a slow learner but both the typing and the shorthand instructors would take pity on me. It took me two years to acquire some proficiency in typing and short hand. I managed to pass the Government Commercial Diploma Certificate Exams for 50 and 100 words per minute in typing and shorthand finally.

After coming to Bombay, my father took me to the Regional Employment Exchange, Ballard Pier, and got my name registered. One fine day, on completion of 18 years, I received a letter from the Employment Exchange asking me to appear for an interview for the post of a clerk in the Office of the Regional Labour Commissioner (RLC), Wakefield House, Ballard Pier, Bombay, which was under the Union Ministry of Labour and Employment. By that time, my communication skills in English had improved considerably. There were some typing and short hand tests and a written test. I don’t recall how many candidates had appeared for the written test and interview but I was selected as a clerk-cum-steno. I joined the RLC Office sometime in the second half of 1967 and was attached to the Assistant Labour Commissioner (ALC).

Coming to Bombay became a turning point in my life.

4

HUMILIATION I

I studied in a Telugu medium school; I wasn’t proficient either in Hindi or in English, although I studied both the languages. Learning shorthand helped me somewhat as far as the pronunciation of English was concerned. I began reading extensively in English. I subscribed to The Free Press Journal and cultivated the habit of reading it and other English newspapers regularly. I would visit the Fort area and the King’s Circle, Matunga, and buy second hand books, mostly autobiographies and biographies of great people. I bought and read Jawaharlal Nehru’s An Autobiography and Gandhiji’s autobiography My Experiments with Truth, among other works, including the books by Radhakrishnan and other eminent persons. English novels didn’t attract me. My interest was more in the lives of great leaders who inspired generations of people. Soon I became a voracious reader. I was in quest of some meaning in life. And whenever I read Nehru’s Autobiography, I would get goose bumps. Even now when I read his classic Works — Glimpses of World History, An Autobiography, The Discovery of India — and A Bunch of Old Letters I get goose bumps

To me, there was some mystique about Jawaharlal Nehru. Pandit Motilal Nehru, one of the most successful and the richest lawyers of his time, was earning more than 100 rupees a day at the end of 19th century. He had some 100 servants looking after Swaraj Bhavan and Anand Bhavan. He led a very lavish and royal life and then he gave up everything including his legal practice to join the freedom movement on Gandhiji’s call. Nehru spent around ten years of his prime life in the British prisons. We do not find any parallel in history of a family sacrificing everything, facing the police lathi charges and going through the ordeal of prison life, for the cause of one’s country.

His words came from the depth of truth- reflecting ideals, vision and deep convictions. To me, his works remained a great source of inspiration throughout to draw sustenance and motivation, from particularly whenever in low spirits or faced with personal crisis. His idealism inspires me. After all, what is life without an ideal bend of mind? It was through his writings that I had developed a deep sense of patriotism and national pride — the pride of being an Indian and immensely proud of India’s rich culture and civilised history.

Later, I came under the spell of the writings of Bertrand Russell during my college days. I only discovered later that Nehru and Russell had mutual admiration for each other and held each other in high esteem. I read most of the writings of Bertrand Russell which helped me think rationally. From them, I learnt the value of being indifferent to personal misfortunes. It was the impact — of Nehru’s and Russell’s writings that liberated me from the prejudices of caste, religion, gender and ethnicity. Intellectually, I became a secular and liberal democrat. To me discriminating people on the basis of birth and religion became a sign of mental backwardness — absence of enlightened education. When the birth is accidental, why look down on fellow human beings?

Through Nehru, a strong message was instilled in me that if ever I got a chance to occupy any position of power and authority, I would use it for larger public interest and common good and not for personal aggrandizement and would have the courage to stand up against wrong doings. Though I consider myself a Hindu by birth, not by practice, and not an atheist like him, the religion has no role in my frame of things. Nothing matters in life except good