Cast a colder eye on what civil servants earn by way of enhanced pay scales and retirement benefits and the picture is actually quite rosy. At the top of the pecking order a secretary-level IAS officer (or an equivalent director-general of police) receives a salary of Rs 2.5 lakh a month; at the bottom of the step-ladder the starting pay is Rs 56,000. Pensions are half of the last-drawn salary so the hallowed brethren get about Rs 1 lakh a month after turning 60 plus full health cover at most hospitals. Some of my widowed aunts, wives of long-deceased soldiers and officials, are quietly smiling after years of scrimping and saving.
Despite every government’s commitment to cost-cutting and reducing staff strength, the administrative machine’s expansionist notions greedily demand more. Jitendra Singh, current minister of personnel and pensions, stated in the Lok Sabha recently that in the last four years the annual intake of IAS officers has increased to 180, of IFS to 110 and IPS to 150. Yet he expressed “serious concern…[over] the persistent shortage” of authorised numbers in the three services — 1,400 in the IAS, 560 in the IFS, and 900 in the IPS (against their present strength of 4,926 IAS, 2,597 IFS, and 908 IPS serving officers).
Expectedly, the highest number of vacancies are in the Hindi heartland of Bihar and Uttar Pradesh where the race to join the powerful “afsar” class ensures lifetime security apart from vastly improved marriage prospects. Increased numbers of women in government employment have altered the matrimonial equation, however. There’s a higher “bride price” for such women looking for suitable boys. As one prospective father-of-the-bride said, “My daughter will bring “kiraya-maaf” (rent-free) accommodation for life.”
Heavily subsidied grace-and-favour housing is one of the biggest perks of sarkari life. In Delhi, with its hordes of central and state government officials, most neighbourhoods are mixed, punctuated with large swathes of dwellings to house the babudom’s innumerable layers. Many of these are now undergoing the most dramatic and visibly ostentatious makeover by the government’s richest redevelopment agency, National Buildings & Construction Corporation. Gigantic fluorescent screens are transforming huge government colonies such as Nauroji Nagar, Sarojini Nagar, and Netaji Nagar into lavish commercial high rises and new government housing. The NBCC, a listed company with revenues of Rs 600 crore, recently sold a 10-floor tower (the first of 12) in Nauroji Nagar for a record Rs 1,100 crore, higher than Connaught Place prices. Part of the proceeds, says the NBCC’s chairman, will double the existing government housing units from 12,970 to 25,667 at a cost of Rs 32,835 crore. Private real estate developers can only dream of such unattainable prices and locations.
In his magisterial, as yet unmatched, history of the origins of India’s bureaucracy Philip Mason rightly called it the “heaven-born” service. In our time, its grasp and growth is yet more self-perpetuating, privileged, and insuperable.