I had mentioned in this blog, some time back in late August, that I had joined the Sinhgad Institute of Technology, Lonavala, in August 2008.
Well, my job, as a matter of fact, came to an end right after a couple of weeks, on Sept. 5, 2008—the Teacher’s Day in India.
What happened was at least mismanagement; but the matter, perhaps, goes much deeper than that. Though what I write below is not everything there is to it—not even if one were to stick only to the essential things alone—it still gives you some idea of what happened.
As I mentioned earlier, there was a daily bus commute from Pune to Lonavala. The buses and the estate property is managed by “professional” managers, not academic professors. For instance, at the Lonavala campus, the “CEO” is actually a career bureacrat who had, before joining Sinhgad, retired, on account of age, from the Secretariat of the Maharashtra State Government—one of the most red-tape-entangled places on the planet. Not even a shrewd CM like Vilasrao Deshmukh could possibly untangle it, not even for his own political ends. (If you wonder how, in a mixed economy, jobs in the private sector get landed, there might be something for you to think about.) Similarly, the person looking after the commute buses to Lonavala has estate office at Lonavala; he is a former Lt. Colonel retired from the Indian army.
The good office of the good Lt. Col. (Retd.) declined to issue me a commute bus pass despite (i) sending my application once via the office peon right on the day of the joining, and (ii) since the pass could not be sent via a peon, but would require my own signature in front of the good Lt. Col. (Retd.), my actually visiting the good Lt. Col. (Retd.)’s office not once, not twice, but thrice. (My notes and messages asking him to return my calls went unanswered. Why? I have no ideas.)
Thus, if I had to teach my classes (notes available here), I would have to travel without an official pass. I did. (After all, both the HoD Dr. Barve and Principal Inamdar were concerned about lectures being held.) But too many people traveling without pass meant that planning of the commute buses would be bad, and as a result, sometimes, professors would have to go standing—about 1.5 hours (or more) one way. Everybody (i.e. professors—not peons or the staff) put up with that. I did, too. Then, once, the second bus which would take us from the Highway over to the hill-top also did not arrive at all. So, everybody (i.e. professors—not peons or the staff) walked up the hill, caught the breath, and proceeded to teach classes. I did, too.
Then, one day, since there was some special function on the SIT campus, there was supposed to be a change in the regular timings for the return buses. I enquired around, and the informal information I got to know was that the bus would leave at a certain time, say X PM. (I got to know this from someone who was none less than a Dean—who, himself, also was not kept informed officially—it seems). However, all the buses left the campus 15 minutes before X PM. Thus, I was left stranded. Someone gave me a ride to the highway. Standing at the highway, waving at the vehicles going by, I finally managed a ride back home late in the evening.
Right the next day, something worse happened. I came to know that the buses would leave at Y PM. But the buses left at time Y – 30 minutes. Once again, I had to walk down to the Highway, wave at the random vehicles, and manage a ride back home.
Notice a few things:
This is a patch of the Highway on which armed robberies (including death of the victims) have happened for looting of as small a sum as Rs. 10,000/-. I was carrying a laptop worth Rs. 40,000/-.
Prof. Navale favors retired army (and other defence services) officers because, according to him, they maintain discipline. What kind of discipline does he see here? I fail to understand this now, and I failed then—on Sept. 5, 2008 evening—too.
Naturally, I got angry. I asked around in the administrative office of the SIT, took the telephone number they gave me, and expressed my anger to the person speaking at the other end. (It was a mobile phone.) That person, right in the middle of the conversation, without requesting me to hold the line, directly transferred the phone to the Lonavala Estate CEO (the same career bureacrat off Mantralaya-Secretariat that I spoke about above). I expressed my anger in no uncertain terms with him too. (That day, both the Principal and the aforementioned pampered Lt. Col. (Retd.) were absent from the Campus).
The CEO refused to give me assurance that he could arrange for the commute buses. (This, probably, was the first time that this CEO was talking to someone who was aware of his own proper rights and was refusing to buck…. The Secretariat jobs, after all, do encourage a lot of bad work-habits, whether you like it or not: you are endlessly and causelessly respected, nay, even adored, you are “salaam”ed, you are appeased to, constantly. That is, even if none were to bribe you….
Naturally, this guy (the “CEO”) thought it not necessary to assure his own faculty member the commute as advertised. This was on Teacher’s Day, i.e. Sept. 5, 2008.
(And no, this “CEO”, despite being told that I was an old friend of the Founder Prof. Navale’s, also did not have either the presence of the mind or the courteous frame of mental working to offer me a room in the otherwise empty guest-house of the Lonavala campus, now that there was no vehicle available from the campus to Pune… I don’t want to use the word “arrogance,” but don’t you think any other CEO who respects his professors would have thought of offering the guest-house to anyone like me?)
Over the next few days (and weeks), I wrote emails to: (i) The CEO of Lonavala, (ii) The general email ID of administration at Sinhgad, Pune, (iii) Two Principals—Arvind Deshpande from Pune campus, and Sandip Inamdar from Lonavala (both my past junior colleagues). Needless to add, not a single email was replied.
Principal Arvind Deshpande, in constrast, directly asked me over phone why I do not resign on my own, when the fact of the matter was that it was precisely because I knew him and Prof. Navale personally that once he (Deshpande) had promised me a Professor’s job in June, I had declined to pursue other engineering colleges (and had, in fact, declined an offer in hand). Principal Deshpande would know that I could not get another job in the middle of a semester, right? And, of course, he, too, offered me the same line on phone as others did: He never did receive any email from me, he said. (How people learn such tricks!)
Principal Inamdar (of Lonavala) also said the same thing to me: He never received the email, and so, the question of confirming or denying any assurances of arranging for official rides on commute buses, by email, never would arise!!
Since, in this process of lost emails and all, I could not be assured that commute buses won’t leave the SIT Lonavala Campus without taking me, and since there was no on-campus accomodation on the offer either, in the interest of my own safety, I decided not to continue hopping on the commute buses. I contacted other professors and requested them to complete the portion. I, of course, kept Principal Inamdar informed.
Principal Inamdar then, some time in October, confirmed (not on his own, but after my asking him by phone) that he had been asked to send a report from his side to Prof. Navale, and that I would be contacted about the decision taken soon enough.
I am still awaiting that “soon enough” action on the part of Prof. Navale—the top man in (and the Founder of) the Sinhgad Institutes.
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An Open Remark to Prof. Navale.
Regretable, of course, this is, Navale Sir. Given our past friendship, it took a personal loss of about Rs. 2 lakhs (my lost salary), and also a few months of time, before I could manage to bring myself to say what I wrote above and what I am about to say to you. (And I must say this publicly because I am certain all my emails to you, too, would get lost). And I must say it.
You have lost being a good boss, Navale Sir. Correct yourself in time, otherwise, the downward spiral is far too easy. … And be thankful to me that someone of my own achievements still talks to you this respectfully after losing his own money and his own peace of mind.
You no longer are a morally upright boss, Prof. Navale, and I have no desire left to work with or under you any more.
But if you wish to correct yourself, begin at the beginning. For instance, ask Principal Arvind Deshpande to stop spreading false reports about me to the effect that “he came to work with us and stopped coming after a fortnight, and he might have a temper, and he might do something similar with you if you hire him.” Start with that, Prof. Navale. Start by keeping in check rumours to begin with. … You are intelligent enough to know the rest of the steps you would have to take if you wanted to morally correct yourself, and your colleagues.
I will call Principal Inamdar today or tomorrow to take one ride last time (on the same commute buses) so that I could (i) collect my check for the two weeks of teaching that I did, (ii) collect my own books still left at the Lonavala campus, and (iii) return the SIT library books and the keys to my desk back to the SIT office people.
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Notes to the general reader
If you have heard, from Indians (in India and in the USA) that I have a hot temper, the above is a typical kind of background behind it. No systems exist, everything goes so long as you are a crony of the power-wielders, nothing objective is defined, none defends anyone for any rational stance, and everybody is free to call any upright man (or anyone who knows his own worth) as “He get too angry—might create problems in your “organization”.”
Enough said. I am sick of these people. And, do wish me better luck in my next job.
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BTW, there was a moment in yesterday’s Barkhaa Dutt Show on NDTV, a publicity stunt for Nilekani’s book, really speaking, where they, both, perhaps were hiding something. It was when Barkha asked the number of interview (or # of books read) before Nandan wrote his, and the answer was “126!” I think there was something shady in it—in that moment.
At any rate, my estimate of Padmashree Barkhaa did go down a couple of notches with that moment. I never did estimate Nandan Nilekani so highly that I would now have to consider anything going up or down with something like that particular moment. In any case, *he* sure knows how he has made his billions—and so do I. And *all* of it all is *not* bad. But then, credibility of a journo like Barkhaa is in a different class from the typical tunnel-visioned “vision” of businessmen like Nandan (who, at least, was honest enough to admit inability to deal with the issue when the discussion turned towards moral aspects).
Bad show! But then, not too unlike Prof. Navale’s Sinhgad either… They all three (Navale, Dutt, Nilekani) are going to grow in terms of both money and reputation no matter what I write here…
But, guess, one can always stay honest, at least for oneself.
(… Just look at the costs I pay to pursue CAE and engineering research, and something even more basic: just to simply stay honest… No, I don’t mean to praise myself—I rather mean to draw your attention to those two lakhs gone down the drain out of someone else’s moral compromises right at a time that one had gone without a job for some seven years… And all that I want to say is, still, that one can stay honest… I don’t know what I am saying, it’s not a “request” or a device for drawing sympathy or praise or whatever, but I thought there was something important about it. So I said it. That’s all… To repeat, one can, *indeed*, stay honest. It’s good to strive for moral richness… Perhaps that’s what I wanted to say, I don’t know… Let me stop… (I might revise this post a bit on second reading…))