My scheduled journey from Bhubaneswar to New Delhi in 1966 could not have been more royal. Finally, the capital of the State of Odisha had only recently got a direct link to the national capital and the India Rail offered Bhubaneswar a whole coach that would carry the privileged passengers to Delhi without the demeaning de-boarding and waiting en route for a connecting train.
A word about how privileged the facility was needs to be said. The coach would get attached to the Puri-Howrah Express and detached at Khargpur, to be attached to a train up to Asansol and then from there the coach would move up to Mughal Sarai and then would get attached to the Assam Mail to reach New Delhi. And I was travelling First Class, at Government expense, to appear in the personality test of the Union Public Service Commission for the IAS/IFS/IPS/Allied Services recruitment Examination. The privilege was exciting till I got into the four-seated compartment after taking leave of my parents at the railway station.
Soon, I had my tryst with reality. I remained the lone traveller and felt somewhat disconnected. At Kharagpur, our coach got detached and shunted to an unknown corner of the station. No vendor selling samosa or alu chop or even chai would care to tread, off the beaten path, to locate the sole hungry man lying in a discarded coach. The feeling of a pariah pinched. But I had to move on. The experience at Mughal Sarai was even much worse. The coach would move in frightening darkness at a great speed for minutes without a sign of where it was heading to. I could feel how a shooting star felt after losing its path. The ignominy lasted too long for me to keep awake. Finally, the Assam Mail delivered me at New Delhi. It was a Monday.
I headed for the “Orissa Bhavan” -- “Odisha” by then had not arrived. Around seven thirty in the evening, I was in the dining room. There was no sign of activity. I sat alone for minutes. Finally, a terse looking lobo, the man in charge of the place, appeared and looked at me with some amount of scorn. I asked him for food. lal Bahadur Shastri had then urged people to voluntarily give up one meal a week to save food for the drought-affected people. The response to his appeal was overwhelming. Even restaurants and eateries downed the shutters on Monday evenings. Many parts of the country observed the “Shastri Vrat”. The Orissa Bhavan had fallen in line. lobo explained it to me. That meant there would be no food, not only at the Orissa Bhavan but in the neighbourhood as well. I must have looked forlorn to lobo. He, suo motu, brought a couple of Bhusavali bananas. His eyes told me that I soon got lost with the fruits. I complied.
Next morning I landed at the dining room, rather early. But the place looked more hospitable. I was enjoying a good breakfast when someone patted me on my back. I turned. The gentleman smiled and asked me if I was the son of Mr Somanath Misra. I was a bit surprised. “How did you know”, I asked in a tone of surprise. “You resemble him,” he said softly with a smile. He introduced him as the Resident Commissioner, Mr RC Pal Singh. I was impressed with his suave personality, soft voice and stylish articulation. He wished me well in the interview.
My interview was to take place on Wednesday. I had one day of rest and leisure. In the afternoon, I went up to the Dholpur House on a reconnaissance mission, to make an assessment of the time it takes to reach the place and to have an idea on the most convenient route. Next morning, before the excitement of facing the interview board would have a grip of me, I decided to walk the distance and left the Orissa Bhavan around seven thirty in the morning, alone, and, on foot. The walk was pleasant, a leisurely one that kept me fresh and my nerves in place. Around eight thirty, I was in a comfortable waiting lounge at the Dholpur House, alone. Other candidates called for the morning session, slowly arrived. None of them could have walked the distance as I did; I was sure. One of them told a friend of his before me how he had listened to music the whole of the previous night to keep his soaring excitement on leash. I kept watching and listening to them. It was good entertainment. I went into the interview hall in a state of bliss.
(The writer is a former IAS officer of the Odisha cadre)