BY DR KAUSTAV BHATTACHARYYA
I frequently pondered my failure to write even a single article on Indian Civil Service (ICS) officers, even though it is a central theme of my doctoral dissertation. This close connection to the subject has hindered me from producing anything since I completed my doctorate nearly a decade ago.
The ICS was the administrative body responsible for the bureaucratic governance of the Indian subcontinent, established during the British Raj. Following India’s independence, this structure evolved into the Indian Administrative Service (IAS).
That was the case until I stumbled upon a ‘jewel’ of a memoir by ICS officer RP Noronha, titled rather mockingly and sarcastically, A Tale Told by an Idiot. It is indeed self-mocking! Noronha’s memoirs are now a canonical reference on ICS officers—a kind of ‘gold standard’ that is essential reading for anyone engaging in academic work on the topic.
I recall one particularly vivid excerpt I used in my thesis, where Noronha explains what distinguishes these ordinary individuals as ICS officers from the rest of the populace: “A dedicated sense of duty born of tradition and training, an independent outlook, and complete identification with the interests of the people in the regions where they were sent to serve.” Having now read his memoirs and listened to junior officers familiar with his work, I can humbly attest that Noronha embodied the ideals he espoused for ICS officers to the fullest extent.
The title of the memoir is inspired by lines from Shakespeare’s Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5:
Life’s but a walking shadow; a poor player
That struts and frets this hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more; it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”
The tale, ‘full of sound and fury’, in this instance refers to history—personal history spanning 35 years as experienced by Noronha in the role of an ICS officer posted in the very heartland of India, the Central Provinces. His life history, characterised by challenges that were “always difficult, sometimes dark, but never dull,” reveals a deep compassion for the people he served. These are not dull bureaucratic recollections; they include tales of hunting exploits in the forests and hills of India.
The narrative begins with his dramatic, chevalier-style entrance into the Indian Civil Service, in a “pleasantly casual fashion,” topping the list of Indian candidates without much apparent effort. The ICS at that time was still a distinctly British institution, with nearly 60% of its total headcount of 1,299 being British (759 officers), while Indian officers constituted 40% (540). In the Central Provinces, where Noronha was posted, there were 72 British officers and 37 Indian officers.
Noronha’s insightful depiction of the ‘transfer of power’ from the British to the Indians, particularly within the ICS structure, is highly informative. There was no recruitment until the end of the war, with the last recruitment occurring in 1939. This highlights the rapid assumption of responsibility by Indian ICS officers like Noronha (pictured above), who managed this transition without a formal handover, amid an administrative environment that was clearly suboptimal for managing a subcontinental entity like India.
Noronha expresses, “My people interested me far more than the goings-on of political high society,” leading to a love affair with the Central Provinces and its people that lasted 35 years—nearly a lifetime. His poignant and accurate descriptions of the closing stages of the British Raj during the war years (1939-1945) provide valuable insights, as he notes it was evident that the Raj was nearing its end.
He reserves particular praise for the British officers, who continued to discharge their responsibilities with a certain élan and dignified detachment, inspiring admiration from Noronha. His memoirs vividly capture the patrician world of ‘Heartland’ bureaucracy—where paternalism reigned supreme among senior IAS/ICS officers towards junior officers and new recruits.
In an anecdote, he recounts his senior, Jayaratnam, who cautioned him with a wink to keep his debts in check, concluding, “The greatest advantage the ICS had over the IAS was the possession of men like Jayaratnam.” Based on my empirical doctoral research, I can modestly assert that this legacy continued well into the post-independence years after 1947.
Ron Noronha led a very colourful life, in stark contrast to the stereotype of a drab bureaucrat, as he kept two horses, a pair of bull terriers, and rode with the Tent Club. He joined the Indian Civil Service towards the end of 1939 as an Assistant Commissioner in Nagpur, with his first official posting being Assistant Commissioner in the Sagar district, Jabalpur Division. He opted for the Central Provinces primarily due to his interest in ‘shikaar’ or hunting. His memoirs are filled with thrilling accounts of his hunting escapades, including a hair-raising encounter with a leopard that had mauled two men. In a dramatic moment, Noronha charged a spear into the leopard’s belly instead of its chest, as hunting rules dictated—a risky decision that almost turned catastrophic, leaving him narrowly escaping becoming prey himself.
A recurring theme throughout the book is Noronha’s deep love for the tribal people and his sense of remorse at their displacement due to modernisation. The longest chapter is dedicated to his experiences, interactions, and conversations with the tribals in what he calls the ‘ABUJ-MARH DIARY’. He describes their emotional connection to the land, which they believe possesses a ‘life of its own’, comparing it to an ‘umbilical cord’ that cannot be severed from Mother Earth. In an All India Radio broadcast in 1974, Noronha remarked, “In spite of all our efforts, the Adivasi remains a better man than you or I.” He praised their sense of humour, community, and detachment from material concerns.
Noronha’s work in anti-malarial efforts in 1944 in the malaria-infested region of Bastar is truly commendable. His memoirs are sprinkled with humour and wit, recounting a humorous incident where mosquitoes apparently figured out that resting on a DDT-sprayed wall would lead to their demise. He observed a mosquito that, instead of landing on the wall, flew out, returned with a thin blade of grass, and sat upon it instead. This clever observation reflects his keen eye for the absurdities of life. Noronha expressed concern that people might become less cautious and more callous regarding malaria precautions, which could lead to more outbreaks. This sentiment resonates with the experiences of public health officials globally during the COVID crisis, highlighting the ingenuity and profound knowledge of ICS officers regarding public health.
In his reflections on law-and-order maintenance, Noronha likens the challenge to riding a horse—once it gets out of control, regaining grip can be quite difficult. He laments the casual approach to maintaining order, emphasizing that if ‘the horse has its own way,’ small issues like bar brawls and street fights must not be neglected. He ensured that his division never lost control of such ‘little things’.
A particularly interesting and intriguing chapter is dedicated to the ‘Political Masters’. For many ICS officers accustomed to directing authority based on rulebooks, responding to elected Indian officials was a novel experience. This interface often led to the misuse of administrative structures for political ends, resulting in indiscipline and inefficiency. My doctoral interview transcripts reflect numerous grievances from the earlier generation of civil servants—especially those who had worked alongside ICS officers—regarding interference by elected politicians in public service delivery. Noronha explores this in detail in the chapter titled ‘The Beginning of the End’.
In conclusion, Noronha departs from the service with a flourish, refusing any extension of his term. He dramatically speeds away on his motorbike, proclaiming, “It’s time for me to go, and I will not stay in service a day longer.” His memoirs conclude with a quote from Horace: “Spondet Fortune Mutta Multis, praestat nemini,” meaning, “Fortune makes many promises to many and fulfills none.”
A Tale Told by an Idiot is a captivating memoir that offers unique insights into the life of an ICS officer, portraying both the challenges and joys of serving in the Indian civil service during a transformative period in the country’s history. Ron Noronha’s narrative is not only engaging but also stands as a significant contribution to our understanding of the complexities surrounding the ICS and its legacy. I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in Indian history, civil service, or simply a well-told story filled with humour, heart, and historical depth.
Kaustav Bhattacharyya is an entrepreneur and independent researcher based in Bengaluru, India (the old name being Bangalore). Kaustav pursued a PhD in Management Studies from Cass Business School, London and spent nearly 4 years in the UK. Currently he lives back in India and is a Vice-Chairman of his family water treatment business. He writes columns independently for local publications and has written articles for The Sunday Guardian in India.