From Fathery Hospital to Saloon-Salon >>>>> An Evening of Names, Memory, and Meaning >>>>> Twenty-First Friday Evening meeting: Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao

 From Fathery Hospital to Saloon-Salon

An Evening of Names, Memory, and Meaning

Twenty-First Friday Evening meeting 

(Press Club Hyderabad)

Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao (July 3, 2026)

            Twenty-one uninterrupted Friday evenings have now transformed what began as an informal gathering of like-minded professionals into a living chronicle of shared experience. Each meeting has drawn strength from its predecessors while contributing a fresh layer to an expanding repository of collective memory. The Twenty-First Friday Evening, held on July 3, 2026, continued that journey in the same spirit of curiosity, fellowship, and thoughtful conversation.

As like-minded members gathered one after another in the AC Room at the Press Club Hyderabad on July 3, 2026, for their regular Friday Evening Meeting, the Twenty First in uninterrupted succession, intermittent rain prompted many to remain indoors instead of occupying the usual open area. The resulting buzz of animated conversation created a lively atmosphere, with enthusiasm momentarily outweighing order. Sensing a trace of impatience among a few of us, Amar recalled an expression often used by his granddaughter, still in her early teens, yet familiar with concepts that, he smilingly admitted, had remained unknown to him despite his advanced age: ‘Read the Room.’

It was indeed interesting to learn about it. ‘Reading the room’ means adjusting our behaviour to suit the mood, energy, and unspoken expectations of a particular group or situation. It calls for emotional intelligence and situational awareness. Its essential elements are Observation, Adaptation, and Empathy: noticing body language, facial expressions, and the overall atmosphere; adjusting our tone, subject, and humour to suit the occasion; and understanding what others may be feeling without being told. That simple expression said it all. We quietly settled into the environment for the evening.

As has become the normal practice, some participants initiated the conversation by referring to the recent address delivered by Amar Devulapalli at the Telangana Saraswat Parishad Auditorium on his life's journey and five decades of experience in journalism. Instead of recounting the entire address, Amar shared a few interesting highlights. One of them was that he was born at the Missionaries Hospital in Hanamkonda, popularly known then as the "Fathery Hospital." From there, the discussion naturally moved to the terminology associated with different institutions, particularly hospitals.

Participants fondly recalled several such instances. It was observed that, in many parts of the erstwhile Andhra Pradesh, including Hanamkonda and Warangal, early missionary hospitals were popularly known as ‘Fathery’ hospitals or ‘Padri’ hospitals. One participant explained that this colloquial linguistic adaptation followed a pattern similar to the transformation of ‘Quarantine’ into ‘Koranti,’ a usage that can best be understood in its historical and cultural context.

The local Telugu and Urdu speaking population frequently interacted with Christian missionaries, whom they addressed as ‘Father’ or ‘Padri,’ a term for Christian priests introduced during the Portuguese and British colonial periods. In local dialects, adding a ‘Y’ or ‘EE’ sound to a noun to denote ownership or association is quite common. Thus, a hospital managed by Christian Fathers naturally came to be known in everyday parlance as the ‘Fathery’ Davakhana or ‘Padri’ Hospital.

In Hanamkonda, this specifically refers to the historic Baptist Mission Hospital, associated with the American Baptist Telugu Mission, completed in 1902 during the Nizam's rule. As the institution stood alongside the Centenary Baptist Church and was managed by missionary doctors and ordained ministers, the entire complex in Lashkar Bazar came to be popularly known among older generations as the ‘Fathery Hospital’ or ‘Padri Hospital.’

This naming convention was not confined to Hanamkonda. Across the Deccan region, whenever a Christian mission established the first modern dispensary or school in a district, local people usually bypassed the long official English names and simply identified the institution by the people who managed it. The conversation then naturally shifted to other hospitals in Hyderabad, their old and new names, and the evolution of those identities.

Almost all the participants, either born and brought up in Telangana or associated with the region for decades, readily recalled many of these interesting names. A broad understanding emerged from the discussion that, during the Asaf Jahi, or Nizam era, and for several years, if not decades, after the integration of Hyderabad State into India, many of the city's iconic healthcare institutions continued to be popularly known by their historical or colonial names.

A prime example is the Nizam's Orthopaedic Hospital, which later evolved into the Nizam's Institute of Medical Sciences, popularly known as NIMS. Like many other institutions of that era, its name reflected its founder, patron, or the locality it served. Several such medical institutions came to be identified by localized Urdu expressions, colonial titles, or the names of royal patrons. Established during the reign of the Seventh Nizam, Mir Osman Ali Khan, it eventually evolved into the present-day NIMS.

Similarly, the majestic Indo Saracenic structure of Osmania General Hospital, completed in 1925, was widely known as Afzal Gunj Hospital, after its original 1866 patron, Nizam Afzal ud Doula, or simply as Dar ul Shifa. In Secunderabad, the institution now known as Gandhi Hospital began in 1853, later became the British era Prince Edward Memorial Hospital, subsequently the King Edward Memorial Hospital, or KEM Hospital, before being renamed in 1956 in honour of Mahatma Gandhi.

Specialty care also gave rise to distinct colloquial names across the city. The Government Nizamia General Hospital, established near the historic Charminar in 1938 to provide Unani treatment, came to be popularly known as the Charminar Unani Hospital. In Yerragadda, the mental health institution, originally known in Urdu as Darul Majaneen or the Jalaluddin Lunatic Asylum, later became the Government Mental Health Centre.

The neighbouring Government Chest Hospital found its home in the heritage Irranuma Palace, originally built by the Paigah noble Vikar ul Umra, before being converted by the Nizam into a Tuberculosis, or TB, Sanatorium because of its elevated and breezy location. The participants then turned their attention to the tradition of localized names and royal patronage that shaped women's and children's healthcare, infectious disease control, and several other prominent hospitals across Hyderabad.

The Government ENT Hospital in Koti originally functioned in the private estate of the wealthy nobleman and banker Raja Pratap Girji, retaining his name for generations as the Raja Pratap Girji ENT Hospital. Maternal and child healthcare witnessed the emergence of Niloufer Hospital, initially established as the Nizam's Children and Women Hospital, with the support of Princess Niloufer of the Ottoman Empire in 1949 after she witnessed the tragic death of a maid during childbirth.

This institution was closely associated with the older concept of the Jajgi Khana or Zajgi Davakhana, the traditional Urdu expression for a maternity home or childbirth house. Originally, this term became synonymous with the Victoria Zenana Hospital, later known as the Victoria Maternity Hospital, a women's hospital established near the Musi River in 1907. Decades later, the historic premises became part of the Telangana High Court campus, now functioning as its H Block, while the medical institution was relocated nearby as the Modern Government Maternity Hospital. Even today, many locals and older auto drivers continue to refer to it as the Petlaburj Maternity Hospital or simply the old Jajgi Khana.

Likewise, the city's principal institution for combating epidemics, the Sir Ronald Ross Institute of Tropical and Communicable Diseases in Nallakunta, continues to be remembered by its simpler popular names. Established by the Nizam in 1915 as a Quarantine Facility during a cholera outbreak, the local adaptation of the English word "Quarantine" gradually gave rise to the familiar name Koranti Davakhana, or simply Couranty. Although officially renamed in 1997 to mark the centenary of Sir Ronald Ross's Nobel Prize winning research on malaria, it continues to be widely known as the Government Fever Hospital.

The conversation then moved to an interesting observation by an Indian journalist and writer who, while in the United Kingdom, discovered that a ‘Saloon’ referred to a bar and not to a barber's ‘Salon,’ as he had understood it in India before leaving for abroad. The discussion was initiated by Dr Bharatbabu, the only guest who participated in the Twenty First Friday Evening Meeting. Soft spoken Bharat recalled a book recommended by his father, Late Dr A P Ranga Rao, once a long-time resident of the United Kingdom and a member of the Press Club, where this distinction was clearly explained.

The conversation soon became even more informative as participants, step by step, recalled further details about the writer. It was Sasthi Brata Chakravarti, popularly known as Sasthi Brata, the fiercely provocative British Indian Indo Anglian writer and journalist. A brief clarification followed regarding his bibliography. My God Died Young, published in 1968, was in fact his debut work, a cult classic autobiography centred on youthful angst, alienation from his conservative Calcutta roots, and his eventual self-exile in the West.

 Sasthi Brata's later work, Confessions of an Indian Woman Eater, published in 1971, was a highly controversial, semi-autobiographical novel tracing the mischievous and often self-indulgent adventures of an Indian protagonist wandering through Europe. Brata's writing was marked by uncompromising honesty, sharp irreverence, and wit. He frequently employed this style to examine both traditional Indian social norms and the cultural shocks he experienced while adapting to life in the West.

The jocular confusion over the word ‘Saloon’ highlights the classic linguistic and cultural contrast that Brata so masterfully portrayed in his writings. In mid twentieth century India, particularly in local dialects, a ‘Saloon’ commonly referred, and perhaps still does in some places, to a modest neighbourhood barber shop or ‘Hair Cutting Salon.’ However, on arriving in the West, an Indian traveller relying on that usage could easily be confused, for there a saloon is a drinking establishment or bar.

Brata employed precisely such linguistic misunderstandings to portray the humour of the uprooted immigrant experience, illustrating how a naive traveller in search of a quick haircut could inadvertently walk through the swinging doors of a bustling pub. In this context, one of the Friday Evening Meeting participants referred to the recent book Avoid Blunders: Write Right English by Vinay Bhushan Bhagwaty, who aptly cautions that, ‘A Word can make a World of Difference.’

Elaborating on this, the author cites modern examples such as writing ‘Please ADVICE me’ instead of ‘Please ADVISE me,’ and the humorous anecdote, ‘Nun takes care of Monk's needs’ instead of ‘None takes care of my needs.’ Such examples are not merely amusing but also illustrate how a single word can cause confusion, embarrassment, or even reputational damage. ‘Saloon’ and ‘Salon’ present similar instances.

Had the discussion ended there, the meeting would have quietly concluded for the evening. However, an enthusiastic participant referred to the ‘World's Oldest Luxury Barbershop,’ which has served London's elite since its establishment in 1805. Another participant added that it is the world's oldest luxury barbershop chain, built upon British royal heritage and distinguished by its premium services. In Hyderabad, it stands in striking contrast to the modest neighbourhood salon, with branches in Banjara Hills and Gachibowli. Its name is ‘Truefitt & Hill.’

One or two participants shared their personal experience of visiting the establishment. Their observations suggested that the experience seemed carefully designed to shift attention from the cost of a haircut to the ambience and the overall grooming ritual, something they felt a neighbourhood barber could accomplish far more simply and economically. Those who had visited remarked, with a touch of humour, that the process resembled an elaborate forty-five-minute sequence of hot towels, pre shave oils, and badger hair brushes.

Although no participant recalled the exact charges, it was generally observed that the cost of a haircut varied considerably according to the services chosen. The discussion also touched upon the establishment's annual membership, said to cost around Rs 1.10 lakh, offering unlimited grooming services for a year with validity across its outlets worldwide. Rather than dwelling on the commercial aspects, the conversation examined how ambience, heritage, branding, and exclusivity together shape perceptions of value, often extending well beyond the service itself.

The Twenty First Friday Evening had, in fact, commenced quite modestly with Amar Devulapalli, one of the regular participants, responding to the request of friends to recount a few significant episodes from his remarkable life's journey, taking cue from the address he had delivered a few days earlier at the Telangana Saraswat Parishad. Speaking with his characteristic simplicity and humility, Amar briefly reflected on his evolution from childhood to becoming one of the most respected journalists, editors, trade union leaders, and media personalities in the Telugu speaking world.

As already noted earlier, his narration was not merely a personal memoir but also an illuminating account of the evolution of journalism, the media landscape, and the socio-political movements that shaped his five-decade long career. Since several participants had been unable to attend his earlier address, they requested him to share a few highlights. His reference to being born on June 10, 1956, at the Missionaries Hospital in Hanamkonda, popularly remembered as the ‘Fathery Hospital,’ became the point of departure for the fascinating discussion on historical names, linguistic transformations, and collective memory that unfolded through the evening.

As has become an enriching feature of these Friday Evening Meetings, thoughts that could not be shared during the discussion if not often, at times, find expression later. In that spirit, Bhandaru Srinivasa Rao, owing to paucity of time, could not speak during the meeting, but later communicated an informative message through WhatsApp. Being both timely and contextual, it is appended here as a fitting tailpiece to this week's narrative. ‘Every reform should be viewed through the eyes of the ordinary citizen. Millions of sincere voters have been faithfully exercising their democratic right over the years.’

‘This they do despite facing often, struggling with changing constituencies, polling stations, and electoral records. They seek neither privilege nor favour, only the assurance that their identity as voters remains secure and respected. Fear of losing an existing right, coupled with uncertainty about the future, breeds frustration and distrust. Governance earns lasting public confidence only when policies are designed with simplicity, accessibility, and the convenience of ordinary people foremost, ensuring every citizen continues to feel counted, valued, and heard.’

With yet another evening of shared memories, thoughtful exchanges, and enriching conversations becoming part of this continuing chronicle, the participants dispersed with the quiet satisfaction of having jointly learnt something new, looking forward to meeting again on the coming Friday, as usual.  

SIR Through the Lens of Sir Isaac Newton >>>>> Pondering Parakala at Ghanta's Democratic Platform : Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao

 SIR Through the Lens of Sir Isaac Newton

Pondering Parakala at 

Ghanta's Democratic Platform

Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao (July 2, 2026)

Sir Isaac Newton's three laws of motion, formulated more than three centuries ago: inertia, force or acceleration, and action-reaction, serve as a foundational framework for understanding physical systems. These principles offer a metaphor for democratic governance, suggesting that institutions and societies often display similar dynamics of resistance to change and reactionary forces.

They resist abrupt disruptions, respond to powerful interventions, and generate reactions outlasting the original action. This striking parallel emerged while listening to Dr Parakala Prabhakar’s PV Narasimha Rao Endowment Lecture at Dr BR Ambedkar Open University (On July 2, 2026), organised under Professor Ghanta Chakrapani's stewardship. Drawing upon Dr Parakala’s lecture, this article presents his arguments, offering an objective reflection on larger constitutional, electoral, and democratic questions.

At a time when university campuses face a perceptible decline in vibrant socio-political engagement, it is heartening to witness an academic initiative that revives informed public discourse. From the beginning of his tenure as Vice-Chancellor, Ghanta Chakrapani has sought to transform the university by creating platforms for discussion, debate, deliberation, dialogue, critique, and intellectual engagement on public issues. He has reaffirmed the historic role of universities as spaces where ideas are examined rather than merely applauded.

The PV Narasimha Rao Endowment Lecture is one such initiative. It is befitting that an institution named after Dr BR Ambedkar should honour one of India's most scholarly Prime Ministers through an annual lecture devoted to the Republic. This year's choice of Dr Parakala Prabhakar: political economist, public intellectual, and author, to speak on ‘SIR 2025-26: Dismantling the Idea of India?’ was highly contemporary. The lecture deserved careful attention because it invited the audience to examine the constitutional implications of an electoral process that ordinarily remains confined to administrative discussion.

Parakala commenced his lecture with an unmistakable note of concern. Democracies, he observed, seldom experience abrupt constitutional ruptures; rather, they undergo gradual transformations through seemingly procedural or administrative measures whose cumulative impact becomes evident over time. Against this backdrop, he invited the audience to look beyond the technical dimensions of the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls and examine its larger implications and ramifications for India's constitutional democracy.

He was careful to acknowledge that every democracy requires credible and accurate electoral rolls, as the elimination of ineligible entries is an objective no conscientious citizen would dispute. However, his concern centred on how the exercise was conceived and implemented, urging the audience to distinguish between an administrative purpose and its constitutional consequences.

Newton's first law finds democratic resonance in the idea that extraordinary institutional interventions must rest on compelling, transparent, and publicly defensible reasons. Parakala argues that when established processes are supplemented by exceptional measures, public confidence rests on providing clarity regarding necessity, methodology, and safeguards, as questions strengthen rather than weaken institutions.

Parakala questioned whether the official explanations surrounding SIR adequately addressed the concerns accompanying such an extensive electoral exercise. Referring to public debates on transparency and access to information, he argued that constitutional processes derive legitimacy from both statutory authority and public trust. Wherever opacity overshadows openness, suspicion naturally occupies the space left behind.

A substantial part of his address was devoted to the possible implications of electoral exclusions. His central anxiety was that even if a small proportion of eligible citizens were inadvertently left outside the electoral process, the consequences would extend far beyond election statistics. Universal Adult Franchise is not merely an administrative entitlement, but it is among the most visible expressions of equal citizenship in the Republic. Any process that raises apprehensions regarding inclusion, therefore, deserves the closest constitutional scrutiny.

At this stage, Newton’s second law offered another compelling metaphor. In physics, greater force produces greater acceleration. In constitutional governance, the wider the scope and scale of an institutional intervention, the greater the responsibility to ensure fairness, transparency, and accountability. Whether or not one accepts every inference Parakala drew, his underlying proposition was that large-scale administrative exercises inevitably demand proportionately higher standards of procedural integrity.

Parakala's lecture ultimately transcended the immediate issue of electoral rolls, evolving into a broader reflection on constitutional morality, institutional credibility, and democratic citizenship. His appeal was not directed exclusively at governments or constitutional authorities. Equally, it challenged political parties, civil society, universities, the media, and ordinary citizens to remain attentive to developments that may gradually reshape democratic institutions without attracting proportionate public debate.

Parakala's larger concern extended well beyond the mechanics of electoral revision. For him, SIR represented a point of departure to reflect upon the evolving relationship between the citizen and the State. He repeatedly returned to the foundational values embedded in the Constitution: justice, liberty, equality, and fraternity, not as abstract ideals but as practical assurances that every citizen must experience through democratic institutions. His argument, therefore, was less about numbers and more about principles, less about electoral arithmetic and more about preserving public confidence in constitutional processes.

Viewed through Newton's second law, the larger the institutional force exerted upon the democratic process, the greater the obligation to demonstrate fairness, proportionality, and transparency. Parakala's apprehensions and his central proposition deserve thoughtful consideration. Extraordinary administrative interventions must carry an equally extraordinary burden of explanation. Institutions inspire confidence not merely by exercising authority, but by demonstrating that such authority is exercised openly, consistently, and without leaving room for avoidable suspicion.

Parakala consciously differentiated between constitutional scrutiny and partisan contestation. He repeatedly reminded the audience that the right to vote transcends electoral advantage, belonging equally to every eligible citizen, irrespective of political preference, social identity, or ideological persuasion. This, perhaps, was the most enduring takeaway from his lecture. Democracies are strengthened when institutions remain above political contestation and when citizens perceive electoral processes to be impartial, transparent, and universally accessible.

If, as Parakala apprehended, large sections of eligible voters face exclusion, the responsibility to safeguard democratic participation cannot rest solely upon constitutional authorities. Non-BJP governments, opposition parties, civil society organisations, and voluntary citizen forums must remain equally vigilant. They must assist citizens in protecting their electoral rights and ensure democratic participation does not become hostage to procedural complexities. Constitutional democracy survives not by governmental action alone, but through continuous civic engagement.

The deeply personal note on which Parakala commenced his address was touching. His recollection of PV Narasimha Rao transcended public office or political accomplishment. He spoke with warmth about knowing the former Prime Minister closely, recalling conversations, travels, learning moments, and even badminton games that offered an intimate glimpse into one of modern India's most scholarly statesmen. That personal remembrance lent emotional depth to the lecture and served as a fitting tribute to the statesman in whose memory the Endowment Lecture has been instituted.

If Newton's third law teaches that every action inevitably evokes a reaction, democracies too possess corrective mechanisms. The most meaningful reaction need not be confrontation; it can equally be informed participation, public education, and constitutional awareness. Significantly, during the post-lecture interaction, in response to this writer's question regarding the way forward, Parakala did not advocate despair or passive criticism. Instead, he emphatically suggested forming dedicated citizen teams to educate people about the long-term implications of such institutional developments.

Hence, the ball rests simultaneously in several courts: the Election Commission, constitutional courts, Union and State governments, political parties, universities, civil society organisations, the media, and, above all, the vigilant citizen. Whether that ball is visible or deliberately obscured is itself a matter for public scrutiny. Democracies thrive not because difficult questions are avoided, but because they are confronted with reason, transparency, and constitutional fidelity.

Newton's laws have endured for centuries because every generation of scientists examined, tested, and refined humanity's understanding of them. Democracies deserve no less. Constitutional processes must withstand scrutiny, invite correction, and emerge stronger from informed public engagement. If Parakala's lecture serves a lasting purpose, it should not be to deepen political divisions but to stimulate constitutional introspection. His concluding response during the interaction was perhaps the afternoon's most constructive message.

Citizens must organise into informed teams, educate one another about the long-term implications of institutional developments, and participate responsibly in safeguarding democratic processes. That advice transforms anxiety into action. Perhaps the real democratic equivalent of Newton's third law is this: every institutional action should evoke an equal measure of informed civic participation. If that happens, optimism will always prevail over apprehension, constitutional values over transient expediency, and the Republic over every challenge confronting it. 

Sixth Job as Faculty in Dr MCR HRD Institute-2 >>>>> Systematic Approach to Training (SAT) Essential Principle >>>>> Professions, Checkered Career, and Lessons-11 : Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao

 Sixth Job as Faculty in Dr MCR HRD Institute-2

Systematic Approach to Training (SAT) 

Essential Principle

Professions, Checkered Career, and Lessons-11

Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao (July 2, 2026)

During the period, working in Dr MCR HRD Institute, I was closely associated with the training of nine consecutive batches of IAS probationers allotted to the (Erstwhile AP) State, coordinating their district training and institute attachments. Many of these officers now occupy senior leadership positions, and the enduring professional bonds formed during those years remain a source of quiet satisfaction. I was similarly involved in foundation and thematic programs for Group I and II officers, heads of departments, and even the entire State Cabinet, which underwent a three-day orientation program after the 1999 elections, an initiative of the then CM Chandrababu Naidu, that was unprecedented at the time.

Equally enriching was the opportunity to work with a constellation of distinguished administrators and training professionals, where hierarchy rarely overshadowed collegiality. The collective energy, intellectual openness and shared commitment to public purpose created an environment where learning was continuous and contribution was valued over position.

Looking back, my years at Dr MCR HRD Institute were far more than a job or an assignment. They were a period of sustained learning, purposeful contribution, and institutional belonging. I witnessed how vision, when matched with leadership, systems and trust, can transform an organization and the people within it. The Institute’s journey from an obscure administrative training center to a globally recognized apex institution mirrored, in many ways, my own professional evolution.

These memories are recalled not merely as a record of the past, but as a source of reassurance and encouragement, for myself, and for those close to me, in times of uncertainty as well as achievement. They reaffirm my enduring belief that institutions grow when people are trusted, learning is nurtured, and purpose remains larger than personal ambition. The lessons gathered during this phase continue to guide me, quietly and consistently, in every walk of life.

This narrative is a comprehensive, chronological, and institution-centric account of the Dr Marri Channa Reddy Human Resource Development Institute, consciously rewritten to strengthen structure, depth, sequencing, and clarity. It places the Institute at the center, highlights the decisive roles of PVRK Prasad, N Chandrababu Naidu, Urmila Subba Rao and M P Sethy, and situates my association only where contextually necessary, avoiding self-repetition. The intent is to present a full, flowing history of institutional transformation, free of redundancy, rich in programs and outcomes, and entirely positive in spirit.

The origins of the Dr MCR HRD Institute lie in the early national recognition that administration, governance, and development depend fundamentally on the quality of human resources. Acting on recommendations made at the national level to strengthen training for civil and technical services, the Government of India advised States to establish dedicated administrative training institutions. Accordingly, the Institute of Administration was established in March 1976 in the then undivided Andhra Pradesh.

In its formative decades, the Institute functioned primarily as a conventional administrative training center, organizing rule-based, classroom-oriented programs with limited infrastructure, modest budgets and no systematic linkage between training inputs and governance outcomes. By the mid-1990s, the need for a fundamental shift, from routine administrative training to structured capacity and capability building, was becoming increasingly evident.

It was during this period that the Institute entered a phase of gradual but decisive transition. When I joined the Institute on September 5, 1995 as Faculty, under the leadership of Dr V Chandra Mouli, it was still widely known as the Institute of Administration. Training programs were repetitive, participation was limited to familiar groups of officers, and the Jubilee Hills campus was relatively unknown even within government circles. Yet, this phase also marked the beginning of introspection and preparation for change.

A critical catalyst in this transition was the role played by Urmila Subba Rao, who, as Additional Director General and later In-charge Director General, initiated the earliest steps towards professionalizing training. She recognized that training could no longer remain episodic or ceremonial and began aligning the Institute with the emerging framework of the National Training Policy. During this phase, the conceptual groundwork for systematic training, training needs analysis and institutional expansion was laid.

Her engagement with the Chief Minister N Chandrababu Naidu, and always her meetings with the CM accompanied by me, reflected his growing interest in positioning training and capacity building as central to governance reform. The transformation acquired decisive momentum with the assumption of charge by PVRK Prasad as Director General in the late 1990s. PVRK brought to the Institute a rare combination of administrative experience, moral authority, and strategic vision. His career had already demonstrated his ability to leave behind strong, self-sustaining institutions, and Dr MCR HRD Institute became one of his most enduring legacies.

At the time PVRK took charge, the Institute was still functioning largely as a traditional training establishment. Within a short span, he re-imagined its role as the Apex Human Resource Development Institution of the State. One of his earliest and most consequential contributions was redefining the Institute’s mandate itself. The Institute was renamed as Dr Marri Channa Reddy Human Resource Development Institute, symbolizing a shift from administrative instruction to holistic human resource development, aligned with the present and future needs of the State Government.

This institutional redefinition coincided with the reform-oriented governance philosophy of Chief Minister N Chandrababu Naidu. A strong believer in systematic training, technology-driven governance and accountability, the Chief Minister took personal interest in the Institute’s evolution. As Chairman of the Board of Governors, he consistently emphasized that training must be purposeful, measurable, and linked to outcomes. His concept of SMART Governance, Simple, Moral, Accountable, Responsive and Transparent, found practical expression through the training architecture developed at the Institute.

One of the most path-breaking initiatives of this phase was the Systematic Training Needs Analysis of State Government employees using Optical Mark Reader technology. Conceived to operationalize the National Training Policy’s vision of ‘Training for All’ this exercise covered several lakh employees across cadres, from Junior Assistants to Heads of Departments. It was among the first such large-scale, data-driven training needs assessments undertaken in the country and marked a decisive departure from intuition-based program design.

The findings of this exercise became the foundation for the State Training Initiative (STI), an ambitious and structured program aimed at ensuring a minimum quantum of training, approximately sixty hours, for every State Government employee. The STI represented a fundamental shift from sporadic capacity building to sustained capability building. Training was no longer viewed as an event, but as a continuous process embedded within administrative life.

Institutional infrastructure expanded rapidly to support this transformation. The Institute’s thirty-three-acre campus at Jubilee Hills was developed into a modern, state-of-the-art learning environment. New floors were added, training halls and auditoriums were modernized, conference and mini-conference halls were created, and residential facilities, sports infrastructure and support services were strengthened. What emerged was not merely a training campus, but a comprehensive ecosystem for learning, reflection, and professional interaction.

A landmark achievement during this period was the establishment of the Centre for Good Governance within the Institute campus. Conceived as a hub for identifying best practices, promoting administrative reforms, and developing replicable governance models, the Centre soon gained national and international recognition. Its inauguration by the then UK Prime Minister Tony Blair, and his extended engagement with the Chief Minister on the campus, symbolized the global relevance the Institute had attained.

Parallel to infrastructural expansion was a deliberate effort to professionalize training design and delivery. The Institute pioneered the use of video, and DVD-based learning, satellite-supported programs, and computer-based training modules. Large-scale trainer development initiatives were undertaken, and the Institute achieved ISO certification within a record period, reinforcing its commitment to quality systems and processes. Collaborations with national and international institutions, including the Department of Personnel and Training, UNDP, and leading academic bodies, further strengthened its professional credibility.

A crucial contributor to this professional depth was MP Sethy, one of the country’s foremost Master Trainers and a key figure in shaping India’s Trainer-Training Ecosystem. Brought to the Institute through determined institutional effort, Sethy’s presence elevated the quality of Trainer Development, Module Design and Pedagogical Rigor. His association significantly strengthened the Institute’s capacity to design and deliver high-impact programs and contributed to its reputation as a national leader in training innovation.

Another distinctive feature of this phase was the emphasis on leadership ownership of training. To institutionalize this principle, the Orientation to Management of Training program (OMOT) was conceptualized and implemented for senior IAS, IPS and non-cadre officers, including Heads of Departments. This program underscored that training effectiveness depends as much on leadership commitment as on content or methodology. The model was later adopted by training institutions across the country.

The Institute also played a central role in developing change leadership within the State through programs such as Governing for Results, Core Group Development initiatives and sector-specific interventions in areas including land reforms, tribal welfare, forest development, human rights, disaster management, child labor elimination, and citizen-centric administration. Innovative strategies, such as influencing key stakeholders and opinion leaders, were employed to ensure wider societal impact.

Training of successive batches of IAS probationers allotted to the State, foundation programs for Group I and II officers, and thematic programs for a wide range of services further consolidated the Institute’s role as the State’s apex training institution. A defining moment in this journey was the conduct of the first-ever structured training program for the entire State Cabinet after the 1999 elections, reflecting the Chief Minister’s conviction that learning and governance must progress together.

Over time, the Institute evolved from a little-known administrative training center into an internationally respected center of excellence in human resource development. This transformation was not the result of isolated initiatives, but of sustained vision, leadership continuity, professional commitment, and institutional trust. The imprint of PVRK. Prasad’s institution-building leadership, the reform-driven governance philosophy of CM N Chandrababu Naidu, the foundational contributions of Urmila Subba Rao, and the professional rigor introduced by MP Sethy remain deeply embedded in the Institute’s DNA. I was part of every phase of this transformation and did my best.

This account is offered as a comprehensive institutional memoir that fits naturally within my sixth professional engagement, while keeping the focus firmly on the Institute, its leadership, and its programs. It stands as a reminder that when training is treated as a strategic priority, institutions can be transformed, governance strengthened and public service elevated. The legacy of Dr MCR HRD Institute during this period continues to affirm the enduring value of vision, patience, professionalism, and faith in institutional growth.

This long and fulfilling phase at the Institute not only enriched my professional capabilities but also reinforced my belief that institutions grow when people are trusted, learning is continuous, and purpose remains larger than position. These lessons, quietly accumulated over nine years, continue to guide me in every sphere of life. What this period gradually revealed to me was that meaningful work seldom announces itself loudly, and that the most enduring contributions are often the result of patience, shared effort, and an unwavering commitment to processes rather than personalities.

I came to appreciate that real satisfaction in professional life flows not from titles or tenures, but from being part of something that steadily outlives individual roles and momentary recognition. The confidence gained from having witnessed and participated in such institution-building is deep, unspoken, and self-sustaining, requiring neither validation nor explanation. What followed thereafter was yet another phase of varied engagements and transitions, which I touch upon later, with as much detail as memory permits, carrying forward these convictions not as learned theories, but as quietly internalized companions that continue to shape choices, responses, and perspective.

{{From my Forthcoming Book

PROFESSIONS, CHECKERED CAREER, AND LESSONS

(From Librarian to CPRO to CM KCR)

A Journey from Khangi School to Center for Excellence}} 

‘The Code We Lived by Before We Coded’ >>>>> ‘Microsoft VP’ Ravi Vedula’s ‘Hyderabad Days’ Book : Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao

 ‘The Code We Lived by Before We Coded’

‘Microsoft VP’ Ravi Vedula’s 

‘Hyderabad Days’ Book

Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao

My nephew, Dr Aitharaju Bharat Babu, a dental specialist by profession but a litterateur by volition, walking in the footsteps of his illustrious father, the late Dr AP Ranga Rao, is a voracious reader and a passionate book lover. He constantly surrounds himself with a vibrant circle who include among others, doctors, civil servants, social activists, political leaders, journalists, high-profile software experts etc. as well as authors of highly acclaimed books.

Bharat makes it a point to purchase works at his own expense, generously gift them to friends and relatives to spread the joy of reading. One such remarkable 350-page book that Bharat recently gifted me is ‘Hyderabad Days: The Code We Lived by Before We Coded,’ authored by Ravi Vedula, his teenage days friend, when their families lived as neighbours in the government accommodations of the Panjagutta Junior (PJ) Officers’ Colony in Hyderabad. Their friendship has beautifully endured the test of time.

Bharat fondly recounted his memories with Ravi Vedula, who is a lifelong engineer and a storyteller at heart. Today, he serves as Corporate Vice President at Microsoft, residing in Seattle, USA. Ravi has spent there for over twenty-five years making munificent contributions across various technological domains. Beyond his impressive academic credentials, his journey to the upper echelons of Microsoft is a testament to resilience, advancing from a barefoot boy chasing cricket balls down the dusty lanes of Hyderabad’s Panjagutta of yester years, to a global tech executive.

Coming from a modest middle-class background, Ravi uses this memoir, as beautifully captured in the ‘About the Author’ note, as a metaphorical return home. It is a nostalgic pilgrimage not just for him, but for anyone who fondly remembers a simpler world that fundamentally shaped who they became. A fascinating aspect of this book is its publication in the USA by ‘8080 Books,’ a unique publishing imprint of Microsoft Corporation, the very company where Ravi Vedula has built his career.

Adding immense weight to the volume is an immaculate foreword penned by Greg Shaw, an extraordinary individual who, three decades ago, worked closely with industry titans Bill Gates and Peter Rinearson. Gates is the legendary pioneer of the microcomputer revolution of the 1970s and 1980s who co-founded Microsoft in 1975. Rinearson is a distinguished American journalist, author, entrepreneur, and former Microsoft Vice President who famously won the Pulitzer Prize.

The foreword opens with a compelling reminiscence of his role in publishing epoch-making literature. He highlights his experience with The Road Ahead, a seminal work that famously heralded the personal computer and internet revolutions. Shaw also reflects on his later experience collaborating with Microsoft’s current CEO, Satya Nadella, on the critically acclaimed book Hit Refresh. That work anticipated the massive, ongoing shifts defining modern technology, namely cloud computing, artificial intelligence (AI), augmented reality, and quantum computing.

Shaw astutely observes that in both of these landmark books, the authors revealed critical glimpses of their personal back-stories. He then draws upon a few more historical instances to illustrate how an individual's formative years invariably shape their grandest professional achievements. Drawing a brilliant parallel between those landmark tech manifestos and Ravi Vedula’s Hyderabad Days, Greg Shaw characterizes this memoir as an elegantly written testament to a unique human phenomenon.

Greg Shaw opines that, it explores the unwritten ‘Code’ that Ravi, much like an entire generation of Indian-American software developers, assimilated within their childhood colonies and neighbourhoods long before they ever learned to program a computer. Ultimately, Shaw hails the book as both a literary triumph and an illuminating lecture. Capturing the very soul of the memoir, he highlights a poignant quote from the author: ‘This isn’t a story of how I made it. It’s the story of where I was made.’  With this, Shaw aptly concludes that inside each of us live those foundational memories and reminders of where we were made, and of the people who taught us how to live.

Ravi Vedula’s preface is deeply electrifying, masterfully framing his life’s trajectory as a journey between two distinct worlds: India gave him his roots, and America gave him his wings. Reflecting on this profound duality, Ravi notes that while the dusty lanes of Hyderabad taught him resilience, the value of five rupees, and Jugaad, the art of resourceful, frugal innovation under strict constraints, the high-stakes conference rooms of corporate America demanded absolute clarity, expansive vision, and global scale.

This juxtaposition inspired his memoir, a creative spark ignited during a personal meeting with General Colin Powell. Ravi was struck by how Powell, the legendary first Black US Secretary of State and a decorated military leader, drew upon boyhood anecdotes to guide his statesman leadership. Mirroring Powell’s own biographical approach to life and leadership, Hyderabad Days stands as Ravi's personal testament to those enduring early lessons.

Structured chronologically, Hyderabad Days comprises seventy-six distinct topics distributed across six thematic sections: ‘The World Within the Gates; Kitchen Politics, Cricket Wars, and Other Neighbourhood Truths; Stories That Raised Us; Growing Up, Drifting Apart; Voices from the Outside; and finally, The Colony Without Borders:and the Day It Stood Still.’ In an enthralling opening piece aptly titled ‘Nostalgic Lead,’ Ravi Vedula candidly reveals that his book was never meant to be a grand project.

Instead, wrote Ravi that, it blossomed from a simple, deep-seated desire to preserve fleeting sensory memories: the unique aroma of his mother’s Upma, the raw feel of gravel under bare feet during neighbourhood cricket matches, and the distinct, grainy taste of Gokul Chat enjoyed under neon lights after hunting for second hand comics. Yet, as he committed these vivid memories to paper, Ravi arrived at a profound realization. These childhood chronicles were far more than mere nostalgia, but they were the raw human circuits and cognitive algorithms, the foundational building blocks, that shaped his entire way of thinking.

In his opening topic, Ravi Vedula masterfully clarifies the cultural definition of an Indian ‘Colony,’ explaining that it signifies a vibrant, deeply interconnected neighbourhood rather than a sterile settlement. Reflecting on the spirited atmosphere of Panjagutta, he vividly illustrates this shared ecosystem by writing: ‘Everyone knew everyone. If you sneezed in your bedroom, someone in three houses down would send you Haldi Milk. If your cricket ball smashed a window, the news reached your mother before you got home, and if you tried to date someone, five uncles and six aunties were already following the drama.’

Capturing the true essence of the city’s past, Ravi writes: ‘It's about Hyderabad in the 1980s and 1990s: not the Hyderabad of Biryani brochures or tech parks, but the one with drain-covered gullies, open gates, and neighbours who all knew your nickname.’ Yet, he candidly admits that the memoir does not shy away from life's harsher realities. Some chapters carry the heavy, unmistakable weight of grief and longing, evoking images of love letters never sent or a cricket bat never returned.

Even amidst these shadows, Ravi beautifully concludes that the community offered an enduring solace: There was always a kind of light. That is what the colony gave us, a net of belonging, strong enough to hold both joy and pain.’ From the day Ravi Vedula moving into PJ-4 to fond memories of Gokul Chat, Pesarattu (Crisp, Green Moong Crepe), Milk Cards, Morning Sleep, and the IAS Lane, Bhel Puri and Tick-Ticket Toys, every single chapter is captivating.

In his final reflections, Ravi grows deeply nostalgic, writing: ‘The PJ Colony is no longer the same ... My family home has been demolished ... But its spirit lives in me.’ Well, Hyderabad, a city that managed small colonies and neighbourhoods, now governs global aspirations. Hyderabad Days is a masterpiece: an evocative, must-read book that beautifully honours a lost world.

(Article Writer: Former CPRO to Former Telangana Chief Minister KCR)

Moral Storm After the Calm >>>>> Simplified and faithful rendering of the Adi Kavya-29: Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao

 Moral Storm After the Calm

Simplified and faithful rendering 

of the Adi Kavya-29

How One Moment of Celebration Turned into a

Test of Human Weakness and Divine Design

Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao

            In the previous article of Ayodhya Kanda, we witnessed a kingdom at peace, Ayodhya glowing with joy, harmony, and hope. King Dasharatha’s decision to crown Sri Rama as Prince Regent was welcomed not merely as a political act, but as a moral assurance to the people. Yet history, and life itself, often reminds that, moments of greatest happiness are also moments of greatest vulnerability. This chapter marks that sudden turning point, where human emotions such as jealousy, insecurity, manipulation, and misplaced affection collide with destiny and divine will. What unfolds here becomes the foundation for Valmiki’s deeper philosophical journey in the chapters ahead.

The precise reason for the moral storm that followed the calm, as narrated earlier, arose from the spontaneous joy of the people of Ayodhya. They celebrated King Dasharatha’s decision to crown Rama, the eldest son of his eldest queen Kausalya, as Prince Regent. Citizens spoke among themselves about Dasharatha’s noble heart, Rama’s wisdom, humility, righteousness, compassion, and his habit of enquiring about the well-being of everyone without discrimination. This collective joy reflected a society that valued character over power and virtue over birthright. Unfortunately, this very scene caught the wicked eye of Kaikeyi’s maid, Manthara (a hunchbacked maidservant), who happened to witness it by chance. Even today, public appreciation of goodness can unknowingly provoke hidden insecurities in others, reminding that, not all observers rejoice in another’s happiness.

From the balcony of Kaikeyi’s palace, Manthara observed Ayodhya a day before Rama’s coronation. The city was beautifully decorated, roads sprinkled with water, walls freshly whitewashed, and musical instruments filling the air with celebration. Curious and puzzled, she wondered what great event was unfolding. Dasharatha, cautious of Kaikeyi’s unpredictable temperament, had deliberately ensured that the news reached her only through him. As a result, even Manthara remained unaware until that moment. This deliberate postponement of communication, though well-intentioned, subtly hints at how avoidance can sometimes create space for greater misunderstandings.

Manthara then noticed a palace maid moving about joyfully, adorned in silk garments and radiant with happiness. She questioned the maid about the reason for such celebration and whether the king was performing some extraordinary deed. Unaware of Manthara’s poisonous intent, the maid innocently revealed that Sri Rama was to be crowned Prince Regent the next morning under the auspicious Pushyami star. Hearing this, Manthara’s heart burned with envy and rage. She rushed to Kaikeyi and narrated the news, twisting it according to her malicious imagination. Often, truth itself is not dangerous, but what proves destructive is the lens of selfish intent through which it is presented.

Manthara began by expressing shock at Kaikeyi’s peaceful sleep, declaring that she was in the midst of a grave crisis. She claimed Kaikeyi was no longer Dasharatha’s beloved queen and mocked her ignorance. Startled and disturbed by these words, Kaikeyi anxiously asked Manthara why she spoke so harshly. Manthara, now revealing her vicious agenda, warned Kaikeyi that her silence and inaction would lead to her ruin. Here Valmiki subtly warns that fear-driven counsel, when accepted without reflection, can override one’s natural wisdom.

Manthara revealed Dasharatha’s decision to coronate Rama next day morning for which all the arrangements were in progress, and argued that Rama’s lineage would rule for generations, erasing Bharata’s name from royal succession. She accused Dasharatha of deceiving Kaikeyi with sweet words while favoring Kausalya. Urging immediate action, Manthara claimed delay would only worsen the situation. This moment illustrates how selective reasoning and imagined future losses can overshadow present harmony and trust.

Contrary to Manthara’s expectations, Kaikeyi responded with joy upon hearing the coronation news. Rising happily from her bed, she gifted Manthara a precious jewel, stating that no news could be more delightful. She affirmed that Rama and Bharata were equal in her eyes and that Rama’s coronation brought her as much happiness as Bharata’s would have. Manthara, however, remained dissatisfied. Kaikeyi’s initial purity of thought reminds that, human nature is not inherently flawed, but it is vulnerable to corruption when repeatedly assaulted by doubt.

Kaikeyi went on to praise Rama’s virtues and potentials, declaring him worthy of kingship due to his age, character, and righteousness. She questioned Manthara’s pain and accused her of possessing a venomous nature. Kaikeyi firmly stated that this was a time for celebration, not sorrow. This exchange shows that wisdom often speaks first, but persistence of negativity can still overpower it.

Kaikeyi further asserted that even if Rama ruled for a hundred years, Bharata would eventually succeed him the way Rama succeeding Dasharatha. To her, Rama was no different from Bharata, and perhaps even dearer. Rama, she said, treated all equally and loved his brothers as himself. These words deeply disappointed Manthara, who continued her manipulative efforts until Kaikeyi’s resolve weakened. Repeated exposure to cunning words can gradually erode even the strongest convictions, a lesson relevant in every age.

Eventually, Manthara succeeded. With her counsel Kaikeyi got thoroughly convinced. Her face burned with anger, and she sought Manthara’s advice to permanently stop Rama’s coronation and secure the throne for Bharata. She promised full cooperation if a suitable plan was suggested. Manthara proposed sending Rama into forest exile and immediately crowning Bharata. Once the mind surrenders to fear, even unthinkable actions begin to appear justified.

Manthara reminded Kaikeyi of the ancient battle between gods and demons, when Dasharatha aided Indra. She recalled how Kaikeyi accompanied the king to the battlefield near Vaijayanta city which belonged to Demon Shambhara in the southern direction of Dandaka forest, and saved his life twice when he was gravely wounded. Grateful, Dasharatha had granted her two boons, to be claimed whenever she wished. Past sacrifices, when remembered without gratitude but with calculation, can become tools of manipulation.

Having said like this and having reminded of the two boons that were in reserve for exploiting, Manthara briefed her wicked plan of action to Kaikeyi. She advised Kaikeyi to demand those two boons immediately. The first, to cancel Rama’s coronation and crown Bharata instead. The second, to exile Rama to the forest for fourteen years. During this time, Bharata would gain the people’s affection and firmly establish his rule. This reflects a dangerous mindset where power is prioritized over fairness, and impatience over natural succession.

Manthara further instructed Kaikeyi to dramatize her anger by entering the chamber of rage, discarding ornaments, lying on the bare floor, and refusing comfort. The moment Dasharatha comes to her, she should pretend sorrow and keep weeping. She should extract a solemn promise from Dasharatha before revealing her demands. Emotional manipulation, when staged deliberately, can overpower even the strongest moral resolve.

Manthara also cautioned Kaikeyi that, Dasharatha alternately might offer several things and she should not agree. Praising Manthara’s intelligence, Kaikeyi removed her ornaments and entered the chamber of anger. She vowed not to eat, drink, or accept comfort unless Rama was exiled. Thus, the queen fully surrendered herself to the path of obsession. Here Valmiki shows how unchecked desire transforms dignity into self-destruction.

After reviewing coronation arrangements, Dasharatha came to inform Kaikeyi personally. Finding her absent, he learned she had gone to the chamber of rage. Distressed and fearful, the king hurried there. Even powerful leaders become helpless when emotional storms erupt within their own homes. Dasharatha found Kaikeyi lying on the floor and was overwhelmed with grief. He told her that, he felt very bad to see her resting in this way on the bare floor.

Dasharatha gently touched her and anxiously enquired about her health, offering Royal Physicians and every comfort imaginable. True affection often expresses itself through helpless concern rather than authority. He repeatedly asked who had offended her and assured her that he would rectify any mistake, even at the cost of his life. Promises made in emotional vulnerability often ignore long-term consequences.

Feigning consolation, and intending to put up her proposal of asking two boons, Kaikeyi harshly declared that she was neither sick nor insulted but desired fulfillment of a wish. And it was he who had to fulfill certain desire of her. She demanded a prior promise from Dasharatha who readily agreed and assured Kaikeyi that, as she was aware, there was nobody on this earth dearer to him than her except Rama. This moment reflects how emotional leverage can coerce even the wise into dangerous commitments.

Dasharatha further told her that, despite knowing his mind very well, she was asking him to promise to fulfill her desire. He assured her, swearing upon Rama himself, declaring that, he could not live without him. He vowed to fulfill her desire unconditionally. He wanted to know as early as possible as to what her desire was. If he fails to fulfill his promise, said Dasharatha that, let his entire auspiciousness be destroyed. Ironically, the very oath meant to affirm love became the instrument of impending tragedy.

Delighted, Kaikeyi reminded Dasharatha of the two boons granted to her by him, during the ancient battle and demanded them now. Without reflection, the king urged her to state them. Memory, when selectively invoked, can alter the course of destiny. Kaikeyi demanded Bharata’s coronation in Rama’s place and Rama’s exile to the forest for fourteen years as an ascetic. She insisted this would secure a peaceful kingdom. Power gained through injustice, however, rarely brings peace.

Dasharatha was shattered. Shocked and anguished by the strange wishes of Kaikeyi he was greatly disturbed and hurt badly. He collapsed, regained consciousness, and sat grief-stricken on the floor. With eyes blazing in anguish, he spoke harshly to Kaikeyi, consumed by sorrow. Thus begins the irreversible unfolding of divine design, where human weakness becomes the instrument of cosmic purpose.

This chapter stands as one of the most crucial turning points in the Valmiki Ramayana. It teaches timeless lessons: not to let jealousy overpower joy, not to listen blindly to cunning counsel, not to misuse love as leverage, and not to postpone righteous action out of emotional attachment. Above all, Valmiki reveals that behind every human flaw operates a divine intention, guiding events toward a greater moral order. Rama’s exile is not merely a punishment, but it was the pathway through which dharma will illuminate the world.

>>> Photographs courtesy Rama Bhakta Vijaya Raghava Dasu

{{From my Published Book ‘Simplified and Faithful Rendering of the Adi Kavya’

Valmiki Ramayana: The Greatest Epic (Bala and Ayodhya Kandas)}}

(This Book is free of cost for all those who are interested to read the English Version of Valmiki Ramayana, provided they collect it from me in person preferably. Mobile: 8008137012)