IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 99 - (FOOLISHNESS & FLOODS) Brig PS Gothra (Retd)

“Papa, I’ve made a house!” I shouted once, standing proud on a beach in my childhood.
I had just piled up wet sand over my foot, carefully lifted it out, and left behind a hollow that looked like a dome.
Papa smiled.
But I never quite figured out — was he smiling at my creativity… or the stupidity. Because he could foresee the next wave come and swallow my sandy castle.

Fast forward to 2005.
I wasn’t a child on a beach anymore — I was a Commanding Officer with a mission, ambition, and… well, a performance review due.

I couldn’t kill a terrorist, so I thought, “Let me kill it with Sadbhavna.”
A friend had just impressed his boss by installing a micro-hydel power plant. “Good job,” his General had said.
Inspired, I decided to do the Copy-paste.

I decided on two of these plants. Sole consideration was inauguration before my annual appraisal. I informed the boss about my plan. He was happy at the idea but he wanted it to be done a month in advance so that the input could add to his annual appraisal also. For that purpose he wanted it to be inaugurated by his boss.
Some funds were "managed."
A spot was chosen where the General could stroll in without dirtying his boots.
A fairy tale was spun — “Fifty homes will light up.”
And for the grand finale: glowing bulb, spinning fan, piping hot chai, and some pakoras.

Post-appraisal, reality kicked in.

The villagers didn’t want electricity as they had proper electricity connections available.
They didn’t want our Sadbhavna-special turbine.
So we begged the khadpench (self styled leader in the village) to use all the power generated.
Three months in, the turbine died — eroded by the friction of  the sand particles in the water. We had not built a channel for the desilting of the water.
The generator gave up — bought from an L1 vendor, who believed that the items supplied should last only for one season like the roads giving up in the first rain. Thus, giving perpetual opportunity to remain in business.

I called the friend from whom I had borrowed the idea.  

“What do I do?” I asked.
“Blame it on the villagers. Say they’re not maintaining it,” he replied.

This time I ignored his suggestion.

But, I felt like the monkey from Panchatantra — who got his tail stuck in the log trying to remove a wedge.

Then, God intervened.

Next month, the nallah flooded.
Not only our project, but every well-sited old  Gharat (watermill to grind grain) was also washed away.
Nature hit Ctrl+Z.

And that’s when I truly understood that  Papa had certainly  smiled that day on my stupidity.

But I ask… was I the only fool in that chain?
Or were there a few more riding the same appraisal tide?

As monsoon rages again, I wonder how many engineers and contractors are quietly offering prasad to the rain gods, hoping for another flood to wash away their concrete sins.

 Note:- Your frank opinions (as part of comments) will make the future generations wiser. I also love your comments both sweet and sour. If you don't want to commit,  an emoji 👍👎👌😡 in comments is also welcome.