This story is of an extraordinary person, the best that I have come across in my thirty nine years in public life. Since he has always been low key and shunned publicity, I would not like to mention his name. I also have to camouflage the identity of the other actors involved in this episode.
About fifteen years ago, we were in the midst of the aftermath of the Harshad Mehta scam. The times were in one respect very similar to, but in one respect very different, from the present. The media was screaming that the corrupt be punished severely and quickly, but there was no 24×7 news coverage, and outside the Government very few people had heard of the Central Vigilance Commission. Vigilance work could thus be carried on the way it was supposed to. Systems, when allowed to function, could still deliver. There is an important lesson in this story, for those who are looking for instant solutions to the problem of corruption.
I had joined the Central Vigilance Commission (CVC) as its Additional Secretary just two months earlier. My room was flooded with voluminous files, and I returned home quite late in the evening every day. Even so, I woke up one fine December morning feeling very relaxed. The sun was shining brightly and the air was very crisp. It had rained the previous night, but when I opened my bedroom window overlooking Delhi Haat, a clear blue sky greeted me. I had got through all the pending files the night before; for a change, I had a little time to myself, and I decided to wear my new suit. When I reached my office at Bikaner house, near India Gate, all hopes of being complimented on how smart I was looking quickly vanished.
“The CVC wants you immediately, Sir. The meeting he was to take in the afternoon has been advanced. He wants HA as well. I have already informed him; he’ll be with you in a few minutes.” my secretary told me breathlessly.
“Thanks a lot, S— sahib.” I said. “Do I have time for quick cup of tea or not?” I asked.
“No Sir. K, his secretary, said you should see the CVC as soon as you arrive.
In a few minutes, my colleague HA entered my room. He was looking after the All India services and the Home Ministry. He asked me “Sir, did you get time to read the case?”
“Yes; I did. I’ve already recorded my note and sent it to the CVC.” “I’m sure you’re aware of the complexities involved.”HA told me as we were travelling from Bikaner House to Jaisalmer House, a distance of about a kilometre. “The man we’re dealing with is honest. Do you know Sir, he has topped in every examination that he has taken. He has all the right credentials and many important people, including some of the CVC’s batchmates have spoken to him. So do be careful.”
I thanked HA for this briefing, but before we could carry on the conversation any further, we reached our destination. In the anteroom, we were greeted by a stout middle aged man who gave the impression of being very competent and in total charge of his little office. The moment he saw us he spoke on the intercom and smiled.
“The CVC is expecting both of you,” he said.
The CVC was a short, spectacled, fair complexioned person. He looked detached, austere and gentle, but when warranted could be hard as nails. He was also decisive and quick and brooked no nonsense from his subordinates. Every word he spoke was carefully measured. He never promised anything easily, but if he did, he made sure he delivered. Despite an enormous workload, he always had time at his hands and complete control over the organisation that he headed with so much distinction.
He looked at both of us. “Good morning. Do come in and sit down. Hardayal, I have been through your note and gather that both of you are familiar with the facts.”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied.
“So what is the case that the State Vigilance Department has made out?” “They have argued that the officer caused an undue loss to the Government, and an undue gain to a trust in which the then Chief Minister had an interest. He sold a plot of land at a very low rate. The organisation he headed sold the adjacent plot at about the same time at a much higher rate. So, I guess a case under the Prevention of Corruption Act has been made out. The State Government is seeking permission to prosecute him.”
“Do you see anything going in his favour?” he asked looking as detached as ever. “HA has more knowledge than I do, Sir; but I do sympathise with him. To be very honest, I don’t think he had much choice. He had to choose between the devil and the deep blue sea”. I said. “Given the circumstances, very few people would have been able to say no. The present Government is prosecuting the Chief Minister separately. They feel that this person also played a part in furthering his criminal design.”
HA then pointed out, “But for this case, we have nothing against him. As an officer, he is rated highly and is reputed for his integrity.” I nodded my head in agreement. I knew the CVC had read the file thoroughly himself. He was making me speak, to test out how much I had learnt in the last two months and get some inputs which he needed. But he had such a pleasant way of doing things that I was totally at ease. Then came the inevitable question:
“What advice should we give.” “I am afraid we don’t have much choice in the matter. We have to act according to policy. If we don’t advise prosecution in this case, we’ll not be able to recommend it in other cases, where power is misused to cause a gain to a private person and loss to the government. It will also be unfair to others in whose case we have already advised prosecution on more or less similar facts.”As I said these words, I wondered whether I had spoken too much.
“What about the extenuating circumstances in this case?”
“Those will have to be taken into account by the court, if it convicts him. I gather this has always been our policy, Sir.” He gave me piercing look. “It’s easy for us to sit in judgement and use the benefit of hindsight to judge his conduct. Can you imagine what he must have gone through?” I nodded in agreement.
He went through certain portions of the file; he was only refreshing his memory to see if any vital aspect had been lost sight of. He looked up again and said, “But I totally agree with you. There can be no relaxation of policy. These are professional hazards of being a civil servant, but we have to act correctly. Hardayal, the file will come back to you within an hour, please advise the Ministry today itself to sanction prosecution at the earliest.”
Before I got up, I realised how difficult it must have been for him to come to this decision. He may not have spoken much, but I could see that he could empathise with the plight of the officer – his excellent track record must have reminded him of his own career. Whether he knew him at all, I’ll never know. One doesn’t ask these questions. What weighed with him, in the ultimate analysis, was an important principle which he had sworn to uphold: the Commission can’t decide cases on the basis of its likes and dislikes. It has at all times to be fair, objective and consistent in its approach.
When we stepped out of his office, we found the weather had changed. The sky was overcast and it had begun raining again. Since my staff car was going to take a few minutes, we got tempted into accepting K.’s offer for a quick cup of tea. I was in the midst of sipping it, when the CVC opened the door and gave a few instructions to K. I immediately got up in respect as he was talking. Seeing my unease, he smiled and said: “I am glad K. is looking after you. I hope the tea is hot.”
Postscript: the officer was prosecuted and later sentenced to a term in prison. He took bail and then appealed to the High Court. The latter reviewed the evidence on record and came to the conclusion that the adjacent plot of land which was sold at a much higher price was qualitatively different from the plot under consideration; in other words, it could not form the basis for valuing the latter. He was honourably acquitted. His subsequent career was quite uneventful. He retired from a respectable position and rose as much in his service as he would have, had the incident not occurred. In other words, he did in the end get some justice.
The beauty of this case lies in the fact that, at every stage every functionary who dealt with it performed his duty efficiently and quickly. Contrary to what happens often with disastrous consequences, due processes were not short-circuited. As a consequence, the system delivered. Here is a lesson for all those who want a quick fix solution for dealing with the problem of corruption: there is none.
