Foreign Pursuits-Varuna Verma

They are the movers and shakers of India’s diplomatic relations.  But that doesn’t stop them from crooning a tune or penning their thoughts.  VARUNA VERMA reports on the new-age civil servant

Conventional wisdom tells us that the Indian civil servant is neither civil nor a servant.  The bureaucrat has always been something like suspended particulate matter in the air-always around, but never to be seen. And somewhat irritating.

For most Indians, in fact, bureaucrats have been something of a recluse.  Little is known of them, and what is known is not quite the stuff legends are made of. They sit behind closed doors, guarded by liveried staff. There is a sofa set in one corner of the room, and in the other end, right in front of a quietly humming air-conditioner, the big babu sits, usually on a chair draped with a white towel.

The bureaucrats posted abroad, of course, are perceived as a breed that is even more reclusive. When they are abroad, they are nameless faces, and when they are back on their home turf, their names are clothed in coded abbreviations that mean little to those who have not haunted the corridors of South Block. The JS XP, for instance, is the short form of joint secretary, external publicity - which is the official name of the spokesperson of the foreign office as well.

But, change is in the air, for new-age civil servants are shedding the stereotype.  Diplomats are finding new reasons to be in the news.  And they are not breaking news as much as they are making news.

The post of a spokesperson has never been as high profile as it is today.  And never have spokespersons been culturally more prolific.  The present incumbent, Navtej Sarna, is writing books.  His predecessor, Nirupama Rao, is singing arias.  And their former colleague, Pawan Verma, is penning tomes on the history of Dilli.   And we are not even counting the academic volumes that foreign office bigwigs - J.N. Dixit, M.K. Rasgotra, Chandrasekhar Dasgupta, Arundhati Ghose, C.B. Muhammad et al - have been writing post retirement.

Quite possibly, it was the former foreign secretary, Kris Srinivasan, who set the ball rolling with his novel - a thriller called The Eccentric Effect - two years ago.  Now Sarna’s first novel- We Weren’t Lovers Like that - has just been launched.  It’s tale about human relationships and love gone awry.  “My novel is about what goes on in the head, rather than the world,” says Sarna.

Nirupama Rao - the public face of the Agra Summit for most television viewers in the subcontinent - sang opera, jazz, Broadway and contemporary music to a packed audience at New Delhi’s India International Centre last month.  And Verma currently Indian ambassador to Cyprus, has penned volumes on subjects ranging fro the life of Mirza Ghalib, Krishna, the havelis of Old Delhi to the great Indian Middle Class and translated the works of Kaifi Azmi and Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee.

Just as Indian authors writing in English fish in familiar waters, the Foreign Service wallahs are dealing with areas they are most familiar with.  Arundhati Roy writes about growing up in Kerala, Amitav Ghosh about life in Calcutta and Upamanyu Chatterjee about a young bureaucrat’s existence in back of beyond Madna.  So, not surprisingly; Rao sings a genre of music that she was exposed to during her stints abroad.  Sarna goes back to the town that he grew up in.  And Srinivasan writes about intrigues in the South Block.

“Diplomacy is like the mating of elephants,” writes Srinivasan.  “It is all done at a very high level, with much trumpeting and thrashing around, but the results are not evident for 12 years.”

For diplomats, even if retired, writing about sex and suspense was taboo a decade ago.  A foreign secretary in a sharp suit (or a silk saree), cologne (or light perfume) and stiff upper lip (or suitably glossed) could only hold forth on India’s superior foreign policy and Pakistan’s lack of one.

But then something happened.  And before you could say Panchsheel, our IFS men and women were picking up microphones and the pen.

It has been said - and seldom contradicted - that till a few decades ago, the country’s best students joined the services, and those who were better than the best opted for the Foreign Service. They were young men and women who were not just articulate and intelligent, but were culturally active as well.  Aftab Seth- a former spokesperson - did theatre, for instance. And Ramu Damodaran, at the United Nations, was an established media man and a gifted speaker.  And Nirupama Rao was one half of a group called The Menon Sisters.

But while the services always had more than their fair share of talent, the change in attitude came about with the easing of rules.  Globalisation blurred the hard contours of dos and don’ts that were once the gospel of bureaucrats.  Today, IAS men happily go off on deputation to non-governmental organizations, professors are encouraged to seek funds and holding two jobs is no longer the shortest route to premature retirement. In these changing days, if bureaucrats like to write, sing and act, they don’t have to wait till they retire to do so.  They can give wing to their cultural aspirations right now, and without fear of invoking the wrath of the bosses.

Then, dips have an edge over mere mortals because of the nature of their jobs.   Both Sarna and Rao stress that their professional pursuits have fostered their personal passions. “Thanks to my work, I’ve traveled to places I would not dram of visiting as a tourist.  It broadened by mental horizons”, says Sarna.

With a one-way ticket to the world, they remain permanent aliens - who move across cultures and countries with the ease and routine of a migratory bird. But what these official nomads imbibe is more than a bird’s - eye view of the world.  Take Rao, whose globetrotting job took her to the opera heartlands of Vienna and Moscow.  “I couldn’t get any closer to my favourite music,” she says.

Of course, many have been propelled by the global platform that television offers them.  Thanks to satellite television, MEA spokespersons are no longer behind-the-wings policy articulators.  Just a few years ago, nobody had seen a spokesperson. Who, for instance, knew J.N. Dixit when he occupied that exalted chair in the foreign office several years ago?  Today, Sarna and Rao are recognized faces, better known than most of the others in the legion.

But the arc lights of a high-profile office can be a heady addiction.  And it’s not easy to withdraw into the dimly lit wings once you have had your 15 minutes of fame.  There was a time when it was said, join the foreign service and see the world.    These days they say, join the foreign office and let the world see you.