Chennai:

Former Tamil Nadu chief secretary S Malathi died in a private hospital on Sunday morning after a prolonged battle with cancer. She was 57.

An IAS officer from the 1977 batch, Malathi opted for voluntary retirement in August 2011. She was known as an honest and forthright government servant who expected the best from those who worked with her.

“Her work ethic was inspiring. She was meticulous, organised and straightforward. Every government order, every bit of information was at her fingertips,” said additional chief secretary Sheela Chunkath, who knew Malathi since 1980 when they were posted together in Trichy.

Malathi started her career as a sub-collector in Trichy in 1979 and held various positions including collector of North Arcot district (1987-89) and secretary of the municipal administration and water supply department (1996-2001).

“She was someone who young officers could look up to. She guided us, was supportive, planned her work and meetings carefully, and never wasted her time or ours,” said J Radhakrishnan, who worked under her for close to four years. Malathi was diagnosed with breast cancer in July 2003 when she headed the statistics department. She underwent treatment while continuing to work, and in seven months her condition improved. She continued to rise in the ranks and became home secretary in 2006. A scarf to cover hair thinned by chemotherapy and a swollen left hand due to lymphedema were the only signs of her illness.

In May 2010, as home secretary, she was diagnosed with recurrent breast cancer in the liver. Malathi was expected to take over from K S Sripathi as chief secretary but she was moved to the vigilance department to give her time to recuperate.

In August 2010, Malathi wrote a series of moving pieces on her experience for The Times of India. “I want people to understand that you can fight cancer. Taken with the right mindset, coming to terms with this illness is not that difficult. The trick is to be positive but prepared for the worst,” she told TOI during a meeting to edit the pieces.

She wrote: “After seven years you do get a feeling of having been cured… [so hearing the diagnosis] was truly shattering… From the totally despondent thought that I would die in a few days to the dread of therapy to how it will affect my daughter to how expensive the treatment will be, my mind was travelling in several directions but getting nowhere… The immediate desire was to sit in a corner and cry, but then the need to look dignified gets the better of you and stone-faced I left the hospital.”

Malathi became chief secretary in September 2010 in the DMK regime, only the second woman to hold the top bureaucrat’s post. In May 2011 when the AIADMK took over, she was transferred to the statistics department. Though she had three more years of service, she resigned in August.

At her farewell party when colleagues wished her health and happiness, Malathi told them that she didn’t have much time left. “It was hard to hear that from someone who was always a fighter,” said Chunkath. “But she said it with such strength and grace,” she said.

Malathi wrote for TOI: “I am not sure what the future holds for me: Will I get over this instalment of cancer and if so, for how long? In the time I have left, I shall live every day to the full, and be a good human being, treasuring relationships. Cancer has reinforced my effort to realize myself. If you are unfortunate enough to be diagnosed with cancer, things are not that bleak, there is hope. But cancer or no cancer, eat healthy, do not abuse the body and learn to treasure every day.”

source: http://www.articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com / Home> City> Chennai> Collections / by Shalini Umachandran / TNN / March 26th, 2012

R. Raju Naidu (seated, second from right) at the UMS office, with the bus in the background Photo: Special Arrangement

I grew up in a city that still resembled a village. There was not much traffic. As kids, we would dart across the road to go our friends’ homes. Our houses still had wells from which we would draw salt water. For the kalkandu-like Siruvani water, we would run up to a friend’s home and take all we needed.

There were very few schools — St. Michaels’, Union High School (where I studied), City Municipal High School, Sarvajana School and Stanes, which we called Durai school.

In the early years of my life, we lived on the narrow Raja Street. During lunch break, we would dash home from school to gobble whatever amma had prepared for lunch — mostly thayir saadham — and run back as we had to squeeze in at least 10 minutes for football and basketball.

Later, we moved to Tatabad. Those in the defence forces occupied the Tatabad and Sivananda Colony stretches. Later, the land was sold to Tata Oil Company. That’s when my father, R. Raju Naidu, an entrepreneur, bought two plots of 17 cents each for 800 rupees.

You could count the number of homes from Gandhipuram to Vadakovai — seven in all. There was no power and we depended on the moonlight and lanterns to reach home. There were cotton fields all around us. Years later, we all paid Rs. 51 each as deposit for electrification.

Appa joined hands with Kalangal Gopalswami Doraiswami Naidu (GD Naidu) to start United Motor Services. He moved to Madras for a six-month training at Union Motors. They started plying a bus between Udumalpet and Coimbatore and later to Palladam, Dharapuram, Gobichettipalayam, Erode and Pollachi.

Soon, my father started manufacturing furniture. He got teak and rosewood logs from Nemmara under the guidance of Sri Viswanathan Chettiar. My father, a staunch Gandhian, spun yarn on his rattai for an hour every day.

Once we grew up, it was cinema for our entertainment. Coimbatore had seven theatres, but we frequented Srinivasa and Rainbow. I have, at times, watched 30 films a month.

My dependable black Hercules cycle was my companion. I would ride it everywhere. The Brooke Bond Road was called Panankaatu Road. It was desolate. Even while travelling as a group, it would give us the shivers. Hundred ft road did not exist then. The Sanganur pallam was close by home and we would race across its sands.

Once in intermediate and college, at PSG Arts College and PSG College of Technology, respectively, we would cycle to Peelamedu from Tatabad. The onward trip used to be a pleasant half an hour. The return journey took us double the time. Howling winds threatened to throw us off our cycles and the steep gradient from present-day Nava India made pedalling impossible. We would walk with our cycles till Gandhipuram before pedalling again.

At college, Dr. GRD and Prof Venkataraman were great influences, encouraging us to be creative. As we could not go home for lunch, we depended on the PSG Institution canteen near the electrical lab where lunch — rice, sambar and mor — was served for 36 paisa. But, it was near impossible to find a seat. Often, the Kannanaicker kadai that sold dosai, Iyer tiffin kadai and the biryani kadai provided sustenance.

Those days, industry flourished in the city. There were 450 foundries inside town. Coimbatore was suffused with the spirit of entrepreneurship. You wanted to be different and make something useful. Using the crown and pinion from an Ambassador car, I created a wet grinder. The only disadvantage? If my wife switched it on, our neighbours across the road could hear its roar!

Industrial estate

Ganapathy was where the first industrial estate in the city — Textool Feeder Industrial Estate — came up, courtesy D. Balasundaram of Textool. He wanted to increase the production of textile parts. My father was allotted a site and manufactured gears. During World War II, there was severe petrol shortage and my Appa consulted DB and manufactured a producer gas plant with firewood and charcoal. He used the fuel to run buses. He also built a gas plant for cars.

Our city has changed so much. But, I have fond memories of it. How we’ve let down this wonderful city. There are no checks on pollution. Rains have become a nightmare. Driving in Coimbatore used to be a pleasure. Not anymore. We sorely lack road etiquette.

Bio:

R. SANTHANAM: Born in 1934, he did his engineering from PSG College of Technology. He taught for a while before turning manufacturer of gears. He used to be a rallyist for some years with G.R. Karthikeyan (Narain’s father) and is a member of the Coimbatore Rifle Club. He was appointed Range Officer, Shooting Range, for the 1982 Asiad

I REMEMBER

When it rained, we would go to school by train. The steam engine would be fed fresh coal at Urumandampalayam and smoke would rise into the air. That was our signal.

We would scamper to the Vadakovai station from home and travel to Coimbatore paying six annas.

source: http://www.TheHindu.com / Life & Style> Society / by Subhaj Rao / February 14th, 2012