Sat, Jul 25, 2026
As files move faster and scrutiny grows sharper, the mood inside Gujarat Secretariat at Gandhinagar swings between urgency and surprise. Here’s a roundup of what is stirring the system.
If a candidate reaches the gates of the Gujarat Public Service Commission (GPSC) just one minute late, the rules become so stringent that it feels as though time itself is conducting the examination. But when a major lapse occurs within the recruitment process, the same clock seems to stop ticking. A popular joke in the Secretariat corridors goes: for a candidate, "one minute means losing a year," while for the system, "one year is just a technical glitch." Candidates are taught strict lessons about discipline and compliance with rules. Yet when the system itself is put to the test, its answer sheet seems to have been submitted in an entirely different room. In GPSC interviews, candidates are routinely questioned about integrity, accountability, and ethics. Today, however, many young people are asking whether those very questions will ever be posed to the officials responsible for running the Commission. Credibility is built not merely by enforcing rules, but also by acknowledging mistakes and taking responsibility for them. After all, in any recruitment process, the greatest virtue is not strictness—it is transparency.
After spending years in one of the Union government's most influential infrastructure ministries—the Ministry of Housing and Urban Affairs (MoHUA)—1989-batch Gujarat cadre IAS officer K. Srinivas has now been appointed Secretary, Ministry of Development of North Eastern Region (DoNER). Meanwhile, another Gujarat cadre officer, D. Thara (1995 batch), has been elevated to the Secretary level as the head of the newly created Department of Capital Development under the Ministry of Housing and Urban Affairs. The appointments indicate that long tenures in MoHUA are increasingly becoming a stepping stone to even higher responsibilities for Gujarat cadre officers. More importantly, they reinforce the Centre's continued confidence in the Gujarat cadre. Srinivas will now lead one of the Union government's most strategic ministries responsible for the development of the North Eastern region. Thara, on the other hand, has been appointed after a vacant Secretary-level post was upgraded specifically for the new department. She is expected to play a crucial role in shaping major projects related to the national capital and urban development. One implication is clear: with these high-profile assignments, the possibility of either officer returning to the Gujarat government in the foreseeable future has become extremely remote.
The 11th Vibrant Gujarat Global Summit is still months away, but its season has already begun in the corridors of the Secretariat. Alongside routine files, officials are now busy preparing presentations, sectoral pitches and investment roadmaps. The joke in government circles is that the two most important questions on every bureaucrat's calendar are now: "Which country are we visiting?" and "Which sector will I be handling?" Chief Secretary M.K. Das has asked senior officials not just for progress reports, but also for fresh ideas, strategic inputs and suggestions on how Gujarat can leverage India's Free Trade Agreements (FTAs). The conversation, it seems, has moved beyond counting MoUs to designing the strategy behind them. Every edition of Vibrant Gujarat has had its own bureaucratic team. There was a time when officers such as Maheshwar Sahu, Rajagopalan, S.J. Haider, Pankaj Kumar, B.B. Swain and Vipul Mittra were synonymous with the summit's execution. Today, the baton has passed to a new generation led by M.K. Das, along with Mamta Verma, Ashwini Kumar, Anju Sharma, Hareet Shukla, T. Natarajan, Ramesh Chand Meena, Dr. Rahul Gupta, Dr. Kuldeep Arya and M. Thennarasan. The real question is no longer how many MoUs will be signed, but whether this team can turn Vibrant Gujarat into more than an investment event—and make it the blueprint for Gujarat's next phase of economic growth. After all, investors may occupy the stage, but it is the bureaucracy that writes the script behind the scenes.
An old joke in government circles remains as relevant today as ever: an official may eventually give up the chair, but rarely the government bungalow. The reason is simple. A government residence comes with an all-inclusive package—furniture, maintenance, repairs, and a long list of state-funded conveniences. Even after retirement orders arrive, the mind quietly whispers, "Perhaps a few more days." That is why there is often little movement before the eviction notice—and even after it arrives, fresh justifications somehow find their way into a new file. In Secretariat corridors, the joke goes that vacating a government bungalow sometimes requires more patience than executing a transfer order. The debate over official residences is not merely about bricks and mortar. It is also about the psychology of power and privilege. Even when an officer can comfortably afford a market-rate home, the desire to retain a government address often lingers. The bungalow is no longer just a place to live; it becomes part of one's identity. Yet every government residence carries an invisible sign at its entrance: "Stay by all means—but never permanently." The real question is whether the tradition of handing over the keys before a notice will ever begin—or whether, as always, the notice will come first and the packing will begin later.
During heavy rains, everyone's eyes are on the skies. But the moment the rain stops, attention shifts squarely to the Health Department. Floodwaters do not recede alone—they often leave behind mosquitoes, bacteria, and viruses as uninvited guests. From chlorine tablets and medicine stocks to mobile medical teams and the evacuation of pregnant women, every plan prepared on paper must now prove itself on the ground. In Secretariat corridors, the joke goes that once the red alert for rainfall ends, the Health Department's own "red alert duty" begins. For health officials, the real examination is no longer inside conference rooms but in villages and towns after the floodwaters recede. If an outbreak occurs, questions spread just as quickly. If no outbreak occurs, the success rarely makes headlines. That is why every chlorine tablet distributed, every medical team deployed, and every field visit conducted is more than routine administration—it is a test of accountability and credibility. Floodwaters may take time to disappear, but if the health machinery is prepared, an epidemic should never get the opportunity to emerge.
Gujarat's vision of becoming a drug-free state is now moving beyond slogans and posters. With the government setting up de-addiction centres in every district hospital, the joke in Secretariat corridors is that until now, government files merely carried messages urging people to "say no to drugs." Now, the hope is that hospitals will actually help people walk out free from addiction. After all, the fight against substance abuse may begin at a police station, but it ultimately ends in a hospital ward and a counselling room. The real responsibility now rests with the Health Department and district administrations. Setting up a 15-bed de-addiction centre is the easy part; ensuring that an addict reaches the bed, completes treatment, and returns to society with dignity is the real challenge. Addiction is rarely cured by medicine alone—it also requires trust, counselling, family support, and sustained follow-up. In the end, success will not be measured by the number of centres opened, but by the number of lives truly reclaimed from addiction.
In the process of transferring vehicle ownership, Aadhaar has now become more important than the vehicle itself. The joke in Secretariat corridors is that until now, people would ask, "Who owns the car?" Now, the first question will be, "Whose Aadhaar is it?" The government's objective is clear: verify the owner's identity before the vehicle changes hands. In the era of digital governance, identity has become as important as ownership itself. Aadhaar is now emerging as the most trusted witness in every RC, NOC, and ownership transfer file. The new system is expected to make fraudulent vehicle transfers much harder, but it also raises the bar for transport officials. If Aadhaar, the driving licence, and the vehicle registration records do not match, the file will inevitably find its way back to the RTO counter. Digital platforms may become smarter, but their real success will be judged by whether they make the process faster, simpler, and more transparent for ordinary citizens. After all, transferring a vehicle should be easier than testing the owner's patience.