Ramayan and the anatomy of governance: Leadership lessons from the shoreline

I come from a small town in Haryana called Narnaul. Every month of Sawan, my grandfather would read the Ramayan, and I would sit beside him, absorbing the great story as it unfolded. The moment that always held me the most was the debate on who should cross the sea to Lanka. Years have passed, but that scene, and that voice, still anchor me. In a world that keeps moving, those evenings taught me something quietly strategic: before the leap, there must be clarity, courage, and the right person stepping forward.

That beach meeting was not a ‘scene’. It was a high-pressure war room with sand under the feet and destiny on the agenda. Everyone had opinions, everyone had strength, and yet the air carried an awkward silence-the kind you see in a conference room when a file is marked URGENT, the deadline was yesterday, and the table waits for someone to say, “I will take ownership.” The Vanar Sena had muscle, courage, and numbers. What they needed in that moment was something more bureaucratic and more rare: role clarity.

Jambavan did not give Hanuman a pep talk. He did something far more operational. He diagnosed a capability gap that was not a skills issue, but a self-awareness issue. Hanuman, the most overqualified resource on that shoreline, was sitting quietly because he had forgotten his own mandate. Jambavan’s reminder was not praise; it was calibration. And in one conversation, the mission moved from debate to decision. That, for me, is where the Ramayan starts sounding like governance — not because it preaches, but because it understands how institutions and humans inside institutions actually function.

Hidden capability and the quiet art of mentorship Hanuman’s awakening is a reminder that ‘capacity building’ is not always a training programme with banners and folders. Often it is one senior who sees potential, calls it by name, and removes hesitation. In administration, the best seniors are not the ones who collect credit; they are the ones who unlock talent.

Modern public systems are increasingly designed to unlock capability at scale. UPI is a clear example. It did not merely digitise payments; it mainstreamed economic participation for citizens and small merchants with extremely low friction. NPCI reported around 20.47 billion UPI transactions in November 2025 alone.

That is Jambavan as infrastructure: a system that tells millions, quietly and consistently, “You can do this.” Once Hanuman remembers his strength, the story could have ended early. He could have gone straight for a dramatic win. Instead, he stays within scope. He conducts reconnaissance, finds Sita Mata, delivers Shri Ram’s message, offers assurance, gathers intelligence, and returns.

This is a masterclass in mission discipline.

In bureaucracy, the temptation to ‘solve it personally’ is constant, especially for capable officers. But institutions do not run on individual heroics; they run on repeatable processes, clear responsibilities, and coordinated execution. The mature choice is often to win correctly rather than win quickly.

That is why modern governance increasingly invests in coordination frameworks. PM Gati Shakti, for example, is framed as an integrated planning approach to improve multi-ministry coordination and reduce implementation friction by bringing stakeholders onto a common platform. In Ramayan terms, it is not just about building a bridge; it is about ensuring the bridge fits the plan, the plan fits the mission, and the mission fits the larger dharma.

‘Bhaya bina hoye na preet’

‘Bhaya bina hoye na preet’ sounds blunt, but it carries a governance truth: trust needs protection. A society that rewards honesty must also discourage dishonesty; otherwise, the incentives invert and the honest become naïve.

The Ramayan repeatedly shows this balance. Diplomacy is attempted, messages are sent, and persuasion is tried. But the duty to protect the innocent is not outsourced to goodwill. Deterrence exists so that peace can exist.

In recent years, citizen-facing enforcement has become more process-driven and technology-enabled. The National Cyber Crime Reporting Portal and the 1930 helpline are designed to help citizens report cyber fraud quickly so that action can be initiated faster. Similarly, ‘Chakshu’ under ‘Sanchar Saathi’ enables the reporting of suspected fraud calls and messages. This is deterrence done in a modern way: predictable, accessible, and rule-bound-not fear as theatre, but consequence as design.

Why files are moral documents

Dasharathji keeping his word, even when it costs him dearly, is one of the most administratively relevant moments in the epic, because governance is ultimately a credibility business.

States function on commitments: notifications, orders, citizen charters, contracts, affidavits, and assurances. A word recorded is not just language; it becomes an obligation. That is why drafting is not clerical; it is ethical. Any experienced officer has seen how one sloppy sentence can create years of litigation or confusion, and how one precise paragraph can prevent a hundred grievances. The Ramayan understands this deeply: speech becomes action when power sits behind it. It is also why reforms that standardise processes and reduce arbitrary variation matter. The Income Tax Department’s faceless appeal ecosystem is framed as a structured digital workflow to enable more consistent, system-driven handling of appeals, with defined exceptions for specific categories. clarity in process protects both citizen and state.

The ruler as citizen

Shri Ram accepts exile not because it is pleasant, but because the rule of law cannot be optional for those at the top. If the ruler can stand outside the rulebook, then the rulebook is merely decoration. This is the core of good governance: authority must be accountable.

Recent years have also seen efforts to reduce the distance between citizen and administration by cutting friction and increasing verifiability. DigiLocker is a strong example. It enables citizens to access and share verified documents digitally, supporting paperless verification and faster service delivery. That is not just convenience; it is state capacity expressing itself as respect for citizen time. That scene before Lanka stays with me because it captures the anatomy of governance in one tableau: capability that needs activation, power that needs purpose, trust that needs protection, words that need integrity, and authority that needs humility. The Ramayan does not teach administration through lectures; it teaches through situations. People hesitate, ego flares, duty intervenes, and then someone, quietly, does the right thing in the right way. Some stories do not age. They simply change the setting from a shoreline to a meeting room, and the stakes from Lanka to public trust.

(The writer is IRS, Joint Commissioner, Income Tax Department); views are personal