पुनः मूसको भवः... Coming back

The Dean asked, 'You both, please leave this room. I have something very confidential to discuss with Dr Singh, addressing my two colleagues who were present with me in the Head of Department's chamber. I had returned to my previous University that day after a year of service at another institution. 

It was the humid morning of July 31st, 2014, and the heat and humidity weighed heavily upon me, more so than on anyone else on campus. This was due to my return from a higher position at my new job, a circumstance that had left me utterly shattered. I expected, perhaps naively, that colleagues at my old organization would offer me some sympathy. This expectation stemmed from my previous five-year tenure there, a period marked by success and positive relationships. I believed, or perhaps merely hoped, that people's fondness for me during my previous stint was genuine.

Entering the campus that morning, I felt a barrage of unseen questions in the gaze of every passerby. Fifteen months had elapsed since my last visit, and for the first time in my life, I found myself deliberately averting my eyes from familiar faces. Shame, however, was not due to any wrongdoing on my part. I was bearing the brunt of a situation I had no control over, the consequences of others' actions. While explaining my return from my new position to colleagues in the Head of Department's office, I sensed a subtle undercurrent of judgment. They seemed to be searching for flaws in me, convinced that my appointment must have been revoked due to some personal shortcoming.

Two other colleagues were present. The Dean entered the room. I respectfully touched his feet, a gesture I typically extend to those I consider intellectually superior. He acknowledged it and invited me to sit.

As the others left the room at his request, the Dean turned to me and inquired, 'You came back?' My mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. I felt deeply embarrassed about returning to my previous position, a demotion after accepting a promotion at another institution. The morning had already begun with a sarcastic jab from a colleague: "Oh, you came back? Why again did you become Assistant Professor?" This humiliation fueled my reluctance to make eye contact with anyone I encountered that day. I anticipated the Dean would inquire about my return, forcing me to recount the familiar story I had been sharing all morning. However, his silence was more unsettling. When he finally spoke, his words were a chilling pronouncement: 'But your return is not glorious.'

I acknowledged his statement with a simple, 'I know.' My return was not a triumphant victory, not a Nobel Prize-winning achievement. It was not glorious. He, however, insisted on the point, repeating, 'You should remember that your return is not glorious.'

I reiterated, 'Yes, sir, I understand completely.' My return was not glorious; given the circumstances, it could never be. I expected him to inquire about the reasons for my departure or at least to express some concern for my well-being. But he remained silent, offering no words of welcome or even a cursory inquiry about my health. His demeanour lacked any warmth, as if my return was an unwelcome intrusion.

He declared, 'This Department's journey truly began when I arrived.' I was accustomed to this narrative, a familiar refrain since my first day at the University. In every meeting, he consistently emphasized that the Department's progress was solely attributable to his arrival as if the Department had been stagnant prior to his tenure. While significant advancements had occurred during his time, these developments were paralleled across departments and universities nationwide, largely driven by the burgeoning Indian economy since 2004. However, he persistently claimed sole credit for these achievements. I remained silent.

He continued, 'We worked as a team, elevating the Department to become the flagship of the University. We envisioned a future where this Department would achieve international prominence, surpassing even the ambitions of the IIMs. In the global academic landscape, the finest business schools are often affiliated with universities. India stands unique in its separation of management education into specialized institutions. However, I believe universities inherently possess a greater capacity. They are vast and interconnected, fostering interdisciplinary research – a significant advantage.' His comparisons to the IIMs often elicited a ripple of amusement among the faculty. I considered suggesting he visit an IIM to gain a firsthand understanding of their work culture but ultimately decided to remain silent. It was clear this was his platform to speak, and he did.

Then, a chilling accusation: 'Some unscrupulous individuals within this University, including yourself, sought to undermine this Department's success through petty politics.’ The accusation, 'including yourself’, left me reeling. I immediately began to scrutinize my own actions, desperately trying to understand what had led him to believe I had tarnished the department's reputation. My mind raced. During my time here, I dedicated myself fully to teaching, research, and extracurricular activities. I had published numerous papers in prestigious journals, earning praise from the Dean himself. I had never missed a class and diligently fulfilled all my academic and administrative duties. Could these contributions somehow be interpreted as detrimental to the department?

He continued his tirade, 'By leaving for an external institution, you chose a different path. Now, you return to this University, seeking a second chance. We are currently in a period of recovery, striving to reclaim the Department's former glory. I trust that this time, you will not engage in any activities that could damage the Department's reputation.’ The true source of their resentment, I realized, was my previous appointment at a prestigious national institution, far surpassing this university in stature.

He spoke of reclaiming the Department's past glory, but the reality was that no such 'glory' existed prior to the contributions of myself and a few other colleagues. The true measure of a department's success lies in its faculty's research output – publications, conference invitations, and research project involvement. Prior to our arrival, the Department had little to boast of in these areas.

The Dean stated, "During your previous tenure, you participated in activities that have damaged the department's reputation. I have received credible information about these actions." His accusations continued, culminating in a surprisingly unexpected statement: 'You began publishing research papers, and suddenly everyone in the Department followed suit.' I was bewildered. As academics, research and publication are fundamental responsibilities. Was I being chastised for fulfilling my duties diligently? Was it somehow detrimental to the Department's reputation? The Dean paused dramatically, then said, "You initiated a 'rat race' of publications, and everyone in the department felt compelled to follow suit."

I thought how my colleagues' pursuit of research could be detrimental to the department. After all, an institution's reputation is built upon the scholarly output of its faculty. However, I chose to remain silent, allowing him to fully vent his animosity. He continued his tirade, 'Dr. Singh, there is a limit to human greed. You sought to achieve everything at once. What would you have left to strive for later in life? You should be content with your blessings. Before joining this university, you were on a contractual position at a state university. You were fortunate to secure a position at a Central University. You should be grateful for your achievements, but your insatiable greed led you down this path, ultimately resulting in your return to this institution.' This confirmed my suspicion that his jealousy stemmed from my securing a position at a prestigious national institution, a feat he had aspired to but failed to achieve. His inability to attain a similar role likely fueled his resentment towards my success.

He concluded, 'You are back for a second term. I trust that you will not repeat the past mistakes. I expect you to fully cooperate with your Head of Department and contribute positively as a team member.'

I realized that any kind of argument would be futile. The Dean's mind was set, and any attempt to defend myself would likely be misconstrued. Given my fragile emotional state at the time, I prioritized regaining my footing and avoiding unnecessary conflict. I concluded that the best course of action was to remain silent and allow him to harbour his own misperceptions.

हज़ार जबाबों से अच्छी है मेरी ख़ामोशी, ना जाने कितने सवालों मान रखती है 

I simply greeted him and left the chamber. It became clear that the days ahead would be challenging. My initial expectation of finding sympathy and consideration from my former colleagues had proven to be a grave miscalculation. Despite the unpleasant encounter, a sense of exhilaration surged within me. I realized that Dean’s envy was a testament to my achievements. Only the mediocre remain unchallenged, devoid of both admirers and detractors. The Dean's venomous outburst, fueled by insecurity, further solidified my self-worth. As a junior faculty member, his vitriol confirmed that I was a force to be reckoned with. With a triumphant gesture, I whispered to myself, "कुछ तो बात है तुम्हारे अंदर"

Disclaimer: The story is fictitious, and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.