New Report.
And then came they to the clearing in the Forest,
And, Lo! There is its midst
Didst sit the Prophet of Hardenahalli
Deep in meditation,
And they didst disport themselves around Him
And waited for His eyes to open.
And, behold, one eye didst open quizzically
And the Cabinet secretary didst answer:
"We be the Lost Tribe of the IAS,
Long have we wandered in the Forest of Tears
'Neath tangled boughs of Temptation,
By thickets of Corruption and Vice,
Stepping gingerly o'er tendrils of Nepotism,
Pursued by Fiends in the form of Politicians.
Come we now to Thee.
Speak to us, Master! Of Ethics."
And He raised His head,
And rubbed His eyes,
And stretched His arms,
Yawned,
And spoke He thus to his People.
"Remember thou art the Steel Frame.
Rusted thou shalt not be.
Thou wert born not of mortal woman's womb
But art twice-born of the UPSC."
"Yea, Master, " didst they reply.
And He spoke further:
"When thou receivest bread
Look thou to both sides of it
To see which side be buttered."
Heed thou with care the Merit List
For it containest the names,
Both 'fore and after thine,
Of thy Enemies.
For thou shalt be elbowed out
Not by One
Of an earlier Merit List
Not of a Later
But One from thine own.
"And look ye
To learn of the uses of
The Hammer
And the Stiletto.
And study ye Anatomy
And learn ye Protocol,
For when thou standest in queue
Take thou care to stand behind thy Rival
And learn where on the Head thou must
In due course hit him
And where on the Back thou must
In due course stab him."
And the People were moved.
And one more brave stirred among them
And said, "Speak to us of Transfers."
And the Prophet of Hardenahalli dist make reply:
"Not merely must thou know
Where the Pickings be Good
But also where they be Meagre.
And ask not only where thou wouldst go
But also where thou wouldst send the Other.
For when thou suckest up,
As the Bee doth,
From the Nectar of one Ministerial Cup
And every other,
Ask not for immortality for thyself alone
But morality for he who snappeth at thy tail. "
"Smile while harbouring hatred in thy heart
And learn thou to bow and bend and scrape thy brow,
And if thou were first born with bone in thy spine
Seek thou a transplant made of India rubber,
For forget not ever that thou be Twice Borne."
And wiping tears of joy from his eyes,
One more daring than the others said:
"Speak to us now
Of Promotions."
And the Prophet of Hardenahalli spoke:
"Thou started thy Journey
In a Train that deraileth not before its Destination.
Its stages are marked in advance
And none can halt thy progress,
Nor the timing of it.
But if thou wouldst get ahead,
List not to the Timetable of Destiny
But make thou thine own Timetable
Which will get you there afore your time.
Know thou then the whim of thy Minister
And cater thou to his fancy
And watch with beady eye the opening
That will accelerate the pace of thy progress.
And when opportunity doth knock
Hide thou this intelligence from others
And before the Other enters
Fawn thou and beg favour.
For remember
This the early Bird
That catcheth the Worm.
Be thou the first Worm
To catch the early Bird."
And they did bow and bend and scrape their brow
And asked:
"Speak now to us of Integrity."
And the Prophet said:
"Be gone you Fools
With your idle chatter.
We have work to do --
For it now be time to sleep."
And He closed His eyes
And sunk into deep reflection.
And one by one
The Lost Tribe of the IAS
Slunk back into the Forest of Tears
'Neath tangled boughs of Temptation,
By thickets of Corruption and Vice,
Stepping gingerly o'er tendrils of Nepotism,
Pursued by Fiends in the form of Politicians.
