IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 154 — THE CREEPERS Brig PS Gothra (Retd)
That was Subedar Diwan Singh, an old soldier from my native place, giving me advice I would remember for life.
“Dada ji, why all these precautions?”
He smiled.
“As you rise in rank, people will compete to make your life comfortable. Someone will carry your rifle. Someone will open your door. Someone will laugh at your jokes, however poor. And someone will praise your shooting even when you have missed the target!”
“That sounds rather pleasant,” I said.
“Of course! That is why it is dangerous.”
He leaned forward.
“The day you stop checking your target, you will start believing their lies. The day you stop carrying your load, you will forget its weight. And the day you allow others to think for you, you will lose your judgment.”
He paused.
“Remember, son, the greatest danger may not be the enemy in front of you, but the flatterer behind you.”
A few days ago, I remembered Subedar Diwan Singh while attending the centenary celebrations of the UPSC.
The invitation prohibited electronic watches and remote car keys. Rather than risk trouble at security, I left my car and mobile phone at home and travelled by Metro.
I carried some cash—an ancient instrument of survival that had served humanity remarkably well before smartphones arrived.
We were required to be seated by 9.30 a.m., although the programme would begin only at 11. Naturally, I arrived at 9.15. Old military habits die hard.
With no screen to stare at, I had something increasingly rare.
Time to think.
My thoughts wandered to a high-mast floodlight tower at Hari Nagar Bus Depot. Creepers had climbed its tall structure, winding themselves around the pole and spreading across the framework until they began covering the lights.
Subedar Diwan Singh's warning returned.
Wasn't this how people in power sometimes became prisoners of their own admirers?
First came assistance. Then loyalty. Then admiration. Gradually, an inner circle formed, anticipating every wish, applauding every decision and ensuring that unpleasant truths seldom disturbed the person at the centre.
History was full of such creepers.
Stalin discounted warnings of Hitler's impending invasion. Saddam Hussein's commanders, fearful of displeasing him, concealed military weaknesses. Even NASA's Challenger disaster exposed how organisational pressures could prevent critical warnings from reaching decision-makers.
Different circumstances, but a common danger: the growing distance between authority and reality.
And the creepers need not be wicked. Some genuinely admire their leader. Some seek advancement. Others simply fear displeasing him.
At precisely eleven, the reception committee hurried out.
The Prime Minister was arriving.
I watched Modi ji enter. I admire him as a strong leader who has given the country confidence and momentum. Yet I have serious reservations about two of his decisions—the Agnipath scheme and the sudden COVID-19 lockdown, which caused immense hardship to poor and vulnerable workers.
I wondered how often those in power receive advice they would rather not hear.
Perhaps frequently. Perhaps rarely.
From where I sat, there was no way of knowing.
But Subedar Diwan Singh's warning was not meant for soldiers alone. It applied equally to kings, presidents, prime ministers and anyone whose position attracted an ever-growing circle of admirers.
I was particularly pleased when the Prime Minister spoke of the bravery of Captain Smit Machchhar aboard a Flydubai aircraft. It was heartening to hear courage acknowledged at such a national gathering.
The programme concluded.
On the elevated Metro, I watched the city pass beneath me. Buildings, roads, parks and traffic stretched into the distance. From up there, the view was remarkably clear.
I thought of how differently the world might appear to someone surrounded by people determined to show him only what he wished to see.
Later, walking past Hari Nagar Bus Depot, I looked up at the floodlight tower.
The creepers had not uprooted it. They had not broken it. They had simply climbed higher and higher, drawing support from the very structure whose light they were slowly obscuring.
Perhaps they had never intended to harm it.
They only wanted to stay close to the tower.
And now, beneath the towering mast, darkness was gathering.
Jai Hind!
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