For most politicians in Karnataka, the mouse did not mean anything more than a rat in their barn until S M Krishna became Chief Minister in 1999. Though Bengaluru had earned the moniker ‘Silicon Valley of India’ much earlier, Krishna did give the Information Technology (IT) sector the much-needed push. Ironically, his own office in Vidhana Soudha did not have an internet connection though he was portrayed as an IT-savvy Chief Minister. And when news of this got out, he was put to great embarrassment.
Krishna had announced with much fanfare that the public could henceforth reach him directly by e-mail to get their grievances redressed. But the enthusiasm of politicians is often not equalled by bureaucrats, and it turned out that the Chief Minister did not have an e-mail ID in the first place. I had reported on this and officers acted at great speed to create not one but two e-mail addresses for the CM.
Such efficiency is rare in government, and I decided to put it to test by sending an e-mail to Krishna. My doubts were confirmed when I received no response, not even an acknowledgement. The e-mail IDs had indeed been created, but the babus conveniently forgot to provide Krishna’s office in Vidhana Soudha with an internet connection. Hence, even with two email addresses, neither the CM nor his secretaries could check the mail.
Enthused by Krishna, some ministers made a sincere effort to adapt to IT. One curious minister visited the Chief Minister’s Office to see for himself “what this hullabaloo about IT is”. But the minister had to return disappointed. “Having read reams about computers and e-mail in the last few days, I thought of gaining some first-hand knowledge, but I was told that the Chief Minister’s e-mail could not be accessed in the absence of an internet connection,” he rued.
Mail began to flood the Chief Minister’s inbox, but there was no way Krishna or his staff could check them. It took one more news report to prod the officers. This time, they made sure everything was in place. B R Mamatha, an officer who was familiar with computers due to her past experience in the IT sector, was put in charge of the Chief Minister’s email and people soon began receiving prompt replies. With this, the ‘cat-and-mouse story’ finally ended.
Around this time, the Chief Minister had invited the media for dinner. This was when the Congress party, to which Krishna then belonged, had issued a diktat that its members should refrain from consuming alcohol, at least in public. Aware that journalists were keeping a hawk eye on him, the Chief Minister maintained a safe distance from the bar.
I should say that I did not enjoy a very ‘comfortable bond’ with Krishna as some of my colleagues did. During Deepavali, I had returned a gift that was sent to me by the Chief Minister’s Office. This had become a talking point those days, with many newspapers hauling Krishna over the coals. On another occasion, my report on a public meeting addressed by the then Congress president Sonia Gandhi at Ballari was unflattering, which had upset the Chief Minister.
Coming back to the dinner, I had written a light-hearted piece about the event without forgetting to mention that Krishna was a gracious host. And for good measure, I added, “And true to Congress policy, the Chief Minister sipped a glass of orange juice throughout the party.” To this, a smart alec sub-editor decided to add, “But we wonder what really was in the glass.”
And that sealed my relationship with the Chief Minister!
(The writer has traversed across print, electronic and digital media donning both journalist and corporate robes @GauthamMachaiah)
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