Srishti Singh

Bureaucracy is an interesting place to be. Ever since I became a part of it, it's felt like everything, everywhere, all at once. Firefighting has become a reality, sometimes on all fronts, yet I still walk in with prim clothing and polished shoes, my head held high every day, as the reality of the 'glass house' sets in. From the lush high teas and formal dinners to understanding the differences between ceremonial, formal, and smart casual attire, from presenting themes about which I had little to no idea to giving speeches in a language whose alphabets are still new to me, it has been like a swimming lesson with no trainer in the deepest end of the pool, clinging to just one floater. However, doing it all on your own and introducing your family to it are two very different challenges. My parents, like many first-time bureaucrats, knew about bureaucracy as much as an engineer knows about his course—he's supposed to understand it but keeps asking his classmate what

  “Let us make a special effort to stop communicating with each other, so we can have some conversation.” ―  Mark Twain Lately, life has been a lot about conversations. In the most bizarre ways, life has cornered me to actively try and build these bridges of conversations with new people. And though initially it felt like I was thrown in deep seas with no sense of swimming, I am slowly growing adept to this new change. I've even begun to enjoy it. And so, as always, I am writing to document my learnings and to maybe start a conversation about conversations. I recently moved to Delhi, for a shorter stint in my training, alongside the rest of my batch of officer trainees. In a strange way, the present setup of us all enjoying the stunner grandiose of 110001, having long walks on roads where the doyens of Indian history walked, has perturbed the usual scenarios. Since Delhi has something to offer to everyone, it has become difficult to catch up, and everyone ends up having multiple pl

  “ There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ― Maya Angelou   As I am entering the last month of my District training, there are stories which I want to carry with me for years and so we now are taking up this journey of story telling, straight from the heart of Assam.  It was my 2nd week of training in Assam, I was fairly new, both to the state and the profession. Being my first job, and the immense gravity attached to my profession, I wasn't dealing with things so easily. The first loss which came with me joining the leagues of my fellow compatriots was the sudden loss of right to complain or ask questions. No, it wasn't about the questions about work or about the day to day management of my district, but questions which would only pertain to me. My doubts, which I always thought, were quintessential for my progress. But suddenly, in a month or so, I was supposed to feel sorted in whatever I was doing, as if I had figured it out. And administratio

 “Folks are usually about as happy as they make their minds up to be.” ― Abraham Lincoln  I have a cloth hanger with MUSSOORIE inscribed over it in wood in my room. It is a priced possession of mine and was gifted by one of my batchmates when I was leaving the academy as a farewell gift. It hangs in my room on two nails, which are too long to be pierced into the wall. Thus every time I hang more than one piece of clothing on the hanger, one of the nail gives up and the hanger comes off. I take my hammer and fix it, making it sturdy enough for a week or so, but as soon as I hang some extra stuff there, it comes off again, making me redo the hammering again and again.  Life has lately been the same! And before you all jump to the conclusion that I am a young officer, making it into this premier service at a fairly young age and thus put all my complaints into the box of first world problems OR decide that I am probably unsettled in my present life and looking for a place to

  “And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.” ― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore   I just realized that half of my DPT is over, and contrary to what I thought, I have loved the past 6 months to bits. Assam has been too kind to me, I have met some beyond amazing people and adulting, has slowly grown on me. That being said, it hasn't been a cakewalk, there have been days filled with anxiety of what am I doing, the constant feeling of directionlessness, and extreme loneliness which denies to go away, even after hours of phone calls back home. Having said that, I have gotten some important lessons in this short span, which I want to share with all of you. You may or may not relate to them, but these are s

'' That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry; For having lost but once your prime, You may forever tarry … '' - Robert Herrick,  ‘ To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time’        Recently I came across a discussion with a friend on how time flies. How as young adults, it is infused in us to perform and attain all that we can, before we reach 30. As if a clock is ticking, as if whatever we need in life-be it personal or professional, has to happen now. As a young individual in services, which is arguably one of the most demanding jobs of this country, I have something to add to this. And I may or may not convince anyone reading this to my views, but yet again, it is only about starting a conversation. I am a person of varied interests. I like to see the world in every capacity I can. I am chatty to people who