A Memory from the Raipur Circuit House: Winter of 1961
At ninety-seven, memory does not always arrive when called. But some moments—polished by time and meaning—return unbidden, as clear as the winter light of long ago. One such memory takes me back to January of 1961, when I was serving as Executive Engineer in the Madhya Pradesh Public Works Department, stationed at Raipur.
Those were different times. Raipur was quieter, less hurried, and the Government Circuit House stood as one of the few places where the machinery of administration met the dignity of hospitality. It was there that we received an unusual guest: Professor John Kenneth Galbraith, then the United States Ambassador to India.
We had been informed in advance of his visit—from the 8th to the 10th of January—and, along with the usual protocol arrangements, one particular detail stood out. The Ambassador was said to be a man of extraordinary height. Word reached us that he stood at six feet nine inches. In those days, such a height seemed almost mythical.
As engineers, we were accustomed to solving practical problems, and this was one of them. A standard bed, we concluded, would simply not do. So we set about designing and arranging a special long bed, crafted to accommodate his stature, along with a matching mattress. It was a small project by our standards, but we approached it with care—after all, engineering is as much about people as it is about structures.
When Professor Galbraith arrived, I recall observing him closely—not out of curiosity alone, but to see whether our efforts had met the mark. He carried himself with an easy grace, his height unmistakable yet not imposing. When he was shown to his room and saw the specially prepared bed, his reaction was immediate and genuine. He was surprised, and then visibly pleased. There was a warmth in his appreciation that stayed with me.
In my years of service, I had encountered many officials, both Indian and foreign, but what distinguished him was his simplicity and kindness. Despite his stature—both physical and intellectual—he was approachable and courteous to everyone he met.
During his stay, he visited the Bhilai Steel Plant, which was then a symbol of India’s industrial aspirations. That visit, I believe, held great significance in the broader context of Indo-American relations. But for me, the memory is anchored not in policy or diplomacy, but in a quiet human exchange—one tall man, and a bed thoughtfully made for him.
Looking back now, I realize that such moments define a career more than any file or drawing ever could. We often measure our work in kilometers of roads or number of buildings completed. Yet sometimes, it is a single act of consideration that endures.
Even today, I can picture that room in the Circuit House, the long bed neatly laid out, and the Ambassador’s smile upon seeing it. It is a small story, perhaps—but at ninety-seven, I have learned that small stories are often the ones worth telling.
photo: courtesy Flickr