Termites in the Temple of Merit: A Lifetime of Watching Youth Fight a Rigged System
It is the season of protests once again.
On the streets, a familiar electric current hangs in the air - a mix of raw youth angst, burning ambitions, and deep-seated despair. Watching the protests unfold under the CJP banner, I am instantly hurtled back decades to my own hey-days, when students flooded the streets against the Mandal Commission recommendations. Who can ever forget the haunting image of the youth who self-immolated, instantly becoming the tragic poster boy of a generation's desperation?
Back then, the youth felt their future was insecure. Decades later, walking the exact same path, they still feel it. Nothing much has changed.
The system continues to fail to provide a level playing field for government jobs and professional courses. Worse yet, the mechanisms meant to safeguard merit - competitive exams, professional degrees, and public service selections - have lost all credibility. The institutional architecture has been hollowed out by corrupt figures who have termited its integrity from within. Today, the youth—often treated as expendable (cockroaches in popular parlance) - are fighting an epic, uphill battle against these institutional termites.
It reminds me of a classic cinematic struggle, one I will come to in just a moment. But first, let me take you back to my own encounter with this very system.
The Gangotri Days and the Lure of KAS
It was 1994–95. I was deep into my postgraduate program at the Gangotri PG campus, a place buzzing with youthful energy and academic ambition. The Karnataka Public Service Commission (KPSC) had finally called for applications to fill Gazetted Probationary posts in Group A and B after several years. For aspirants, it was a beacon of hope and excitement. Even though well-wishers advised me to focus on the Central Civil Services instead, the timing felt right. I figured I could easily bunk my second-semester MBA exams and catch up by the fourth.
The exams were conducted by the KPSC, an organization that - even back then - did not enjoy a particularly sterling reputation. But hope triumphs over history. I took the leap.
Months blurred into years, and the results were finally announced around 1998–99. By then, I had already transitioned into the private sector. One bright morning as the results were announced, alongside my father, I walked up to the KPSC office directly opposite the majestic Vidhan Soudha.
There it was: the official notice board, housed in a caged wooden box reminiscent of college notice boards. Straining our eyes through the grilled glass windows, I managed to see my score: 876. The topper, Kaveri (whom I would meet many years later), had scored 940 (the numbers are imprinted in my mind). Later, after a conversation with Sanaullah, the then-KPSC secretary, I left with the firm impression that I had aced the exams. Given the minimum qualifying thresholds, I was virtually assured one of the top three postings in government service. (atleast the Treasuries if not the Police or the DM)
The Great Unravelling
But a rotten system cannot hide its stench for long.
It soon turned out that the entire examination process was structurally compromised. Postgraduate students in universities had not just taken the exams; astonishingly, some of the very same students had been roped in to evaluate the answer papers and award marks. These PG guys could fake a certificate to get a job as it turned out recently
The government took the unprecedented decision to ship roughly 1.5 lakh answer scripts to other states for re-evaluation, delaying the process by another couple of years. When the revised results finally trickled out, my dismay was complete: my score had plummeted from 876 to around 782.
Though I performed reasonably well in the interview and was eventually offered a government posting, it fell far short of my expectations (Yes the merit was strong enough to secure a posting without the mandatory bribing albiet a compromised one). Already well-established and thriving in the private sector, I simply opted out (people thought i was crazy because Govt jobs are so coveted).
Yet, the lingering takeaway wasn't my personal scorecard; it was the chilling realization of how hollow, rotten, and corrupt the entire apparatus was. Watching students take to the streets in Delhi today against broken competitive exam systems feels like watching a cruel, generational rerun of a movie I’ve already seen.
Nepotism, Notitisms, and the Permanent Elite
The KPSC had a terrible reputation then, and frankly, it carries that exact same baggage today.The chairmen who head these commissions - almost always political appointees - often function as colossal figures of patronage. They secure positions for their chosen favorites while extracting a heavy toll from those desperate for plum postings.
Even during my time, it was an open secret in political circles. It was a common refrain that the Deve Gowda (former PM) had ensured that one of his son (Balakrishne Gowda) was accommodated in a separate room to write the KPSC exam back in 1978, paving his way into the KAS which ended abruptly with a chequered corruption history in 2005. This is the entrenched, multi-generational nepotism and corruption that turns public service into a private fiefdom.
The Final Scene: Sajjan-Durjana Sangrama
This brings me full circle, back to the cinematic masterpiece I promised you.
Think of the iconic Kannada classic Paduvarahalli Pandavaru, directed by the legendary Puttanna Kanagal (later remade in Hindi as Hum Paanch in 1980/81).
In the film, the marginalized youth of a village finally reach their breaking point, rising in fierce revolt against systemic injustices. The ending scene is nothing short of epic. It shows the young protagonists relentlessly chasing down the corrupt perpetrators who thought they were untouchable.
As the credits roll, the haunting song "Sajjan-Durjana Sangrama" (The Battle Between the Virtuous and the Wicked) echoes through the air - capturing the timeless, eternal struggle of ordinary people fighting to reclaim their dignity from the termites of power.
Today, as the youth battle the modern equivalents of those very same systemic termites, that song still plays in the background of our collective conscience.
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