A Bridge too far...(I)
Raj Kishore Mishra (Note: This was one among several articles written by officers of the 1976 batch for a now aborted project to be undertaken by a prestigious educational institution in London which sought to present a comparative study of the socio-economic background of such officers and how it impacted their eventual success in cracking the examination) Gobindpur is a nondescript village in Kendrapara district of India’s eastern State of Odisha. Situated on the banks of the river Kharasrota, it was ravaged till the late 70’s by annual floods which left most of its inhabitants struggling to make both ends meet. It was here that I was born into a large and lower middle-class joint family. The patriarch was my father’s elder brother, a widower. His brood included a son, daughter-in-law, and seven grandchildren, while we were six brothers and four sisters. Though the family possessed a fair acreage of homestead and tilled land, this amounted to very little due to the floods. My father, who had studied up to class V, the maximum that the village school offered during his childhood, was a sculptor and a painter who, along with his nephew whom he had tutored, made images of gods and goddesses out of hay and clay, painted those with colours and sold them during the festival seasons. Both were rather good at it and people from nearby villages came to buy these images. In addition, father was called by the erstwhile royals of Ali and Kanika to make the images of Goddess Durga, which fetched a higher earning. The income from this was what sustained the family and our initial education. Semi-literate he might have been, but my father was passionate about giving his children the best possible education, particularly the sons, since the daughters had to be married off early as per the prevailing social custom. The eldest led the way: It was our late revered eldest brother who had to bear the burden of the family, including the marriage of all the girls, and the education of the first three brothers who followed after him. After his upper primary education from the village school, he had to leave home to finish his middle and high school education before proceeding to Cuttack, then the district headquarters, for his graduation. Braving numbing physical and financial hardships, he stayed in the house of a noble benefactor and in return tutored the children of his host. Despite an Honours in graduation, he had to abandon his studies for a while and take up a job with the All India Radio, Cuttack to supplement the family’s income and save up for his Master’s, which he eventually topped with a gold medal to boot. This landed him a lecturer’s job in one of the prominent government colleges of the State. My three elder brothers stayed with him to pursue their own higher education. Childhood and career path: My first childhood recollection was the devastating floods of 1955-its surging waters rising up to our front courtyard as my mother desperately tried to retrieve the mat on which par-oiled paddy grains were laid out for drying in the sun. As the old part of our mud and thatched house crumbled under the fury of the floods, we, the children, cowered in the attic of the newly built part with prayers on our lips. Ironically as it may sound, annually, the receding flood waters, however, were an object of fun and frolic for us-taking unusually long baths in its swirling waters, navigating in rafts made of banana tree trunks and catchingfish throughmakeshift fishing nets. The memory of my village primary school is hazy, but I can still remember its thatched roof and mud floors partitioned to accommodate the three classes from class I to III. On its left was the residence and clinic of the only homeopathic practitioner of the village, while on the right were a couple of guava trees we loved to climb onto and pluck the fruits even before they were fully ripe. Memories of two of the teachers-one of them a lady- stand out even now. The other is of my being detained in class III in spite of topping the class! The reason, I was too puny and young, and an additional year would prepare me better for the Block level scholarship test which sadly I failed. So much for wasting a year! It was soon after I had finished my primary school that news came of my immediate elder brother topping the 1959 High School Board Final Examination in the State- a rare academic feat in our part of the district. I was too young to comprehend its significance, but the family was overjoyed and kept on encouraging me to follow in his footsteps. I was generally proficient in all subjects, but arithmetic was my Achilles heel. To improve my ability, the elders despatched me in class V to another middle school some 3 miles away, which then boasted of two of the best teachers in mathematics. To them I owe a debt of gratitude for honing my skills with the numbers, which helped me to win a scholarship at the end of the Middle School. It was, though,a hard and lonely stay of one year, in completely unfamiliar surroundings andwith an aunt I hardly knew.Back on the familiar turf of the Middle School in our village, life was once again like a lark’s, amongst known friends. The teachers, too, were competent and affable. Studies apart, there were adventures galore. The one that I remember was sneaking in to a mango grove nearby and practicing our throwing skills at felling a few, both green and yellow. High School: After middle school, I shifted to the High School next door, which arguably had the best reputation in the Block drawing meritorious students from a number of neighbouring villages. The teachers were highly regarded but my folks felt that I should go to a city school if only to emulate my elder brother’s achievement. So, after class VIII, in the year 1964,I was sent to the P.M.Academy in Cuttack, one of the best in the State, churning out top ten rankers in the Matriculation examination at regular intervals.The year was significant in another way when my elder brother cracked the Indian Administrative Service while still in the first year of his Master’s. A year before, he had also topped his graduation in Political Science Honours from the hallowed Ravenshaw College in Cuttack. His two successes certainly inspired me to do well in the Matriculation examination and possibly repeat his feat of 1959. The school hostel was my abode for the next three years. Its strict but benevolent Superintendent made sure that I felt completely at home. Every morning at 4 o’clock, while passing by my room for his ablutions, he would call out my name to make sure that I was up for studies! During this period, I also experienced, for the first time, the pain of death in the family with the passing away of my father’s elder brother. ‘Bada Bapa’ had a benign shadow over the fortunes of the family and was particularly fond of me. It was the calming influence of the hostel Superintendent which helped me pull through this emotional catharsis. As far as studies went, all my teachers were equally supportive, offering free coaching at their homes as and when I required. Soon, the school final exam came in the early summer of 1966 after which I left for home. The results came out two months later. Much to the delight of my family and my teachers’ expectations, I repeated my elder brother’s achievement and stood first in the State with a new record. Still, a career in the Indian Administrative Service at that stage was not even a distant dream. Summer breaks from school were what I looked forward to most during this phase. Back in the sylvan surroundings of the village, time was spent with friends playing cards or an occasional game of ‘kabaddi’; visiting each other’s home or simply roaming the streets. Once in a while, during autumn breaks, a group of us would hire a boat for an evening cruise in Kharasrota’s placid waters shimmering on a moonlit light. Indeed, a divine experience to savour! Graduation and Ravenshaw’(1966-70): Ravenshaw College(now a University) is to Odisha what Presidency College has been to Bengal. Established in 1868 by Thomas Edward Ravenshaw, the acting Commissioner of the Odisha Division of the undivided Bengal Province, it has a storied history that boasts of an illustrious list of alumni- virtually the who’s who of the State-freedom fighters, politicians, administrators, and academia. It was into its hallowed portals that I entered following the footsteps of two of my elder brothers. The four years I spent while staying as a boarder in two of its famed hostels-East and West- were arguably the best of my youth. The financial hardships of the past few years had eased somewhat. Apart from the scholarship I was getting, my late third elder brother who had landed a job with the Indian Railway came forward to support my education. Life in the hostel was a lot of fun with some lasting friendships forged.It was not so much the thrill of academics but a lot of extra-curricular activities that kept oneself busy and happy. Like editing the hostel magazine, taking part in intra and inter-college debate competitions and winning most of them and, above all, embracing a new passion in athletics. In the latter, not only did I sweep the hostel-level competitions but also won a few at the college and inter-college levels. Three University-level examinations spanned the four-year period. The Pre-University after the end of the first year; the First Year Degree after the second and, finally, the Bachelor’s in Arts (with Political Science as Honours) after the fourth. It was a privilege and honour to top the University charts in all these, and being declared the Best Graduate of the University in the Humanities stream. (The author is a retired Indian Administrative Service (IAS) Officer )
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21 Jul, 2026
12 hrs ago