June 29, 1922 - March 20th, 2020

Dr. K.C. Thomas passed away peacefully at age 97 on March 20th, 2020 at his residence in Trivandrum. He was born on June 29th , 1922 in Vallomkollam, Thiruvella district, to the Nellattu Kandathil family. He was the youngest of ten children and the last surviving one. He is survived by his wife, Susy Thomas and their four children, Jacob, Susan, Minnie and Tom, seven grandchildren and four great grandchildren.

 

A Remarkable Journey

 

Briefly, my story is one of humble beginnings, a remarkable upward trajectory, and achievements that seemed out of reach when the journey began. To be sure, luck and mentors played important roles. I look back at my long life with great satisfaction.

Early years

Birth

At my birth, June 29th, 1922, my father was 52 or 53 years old and my mother was exactly 45 years old. I am the last of ten children, with five brothers and four sisters.

My father, K. M. Chacko, was from the Monoth branch of the Kandathil family. The Monoth family moved from Kallooppara to Vallum Kollam. My father and his brother both went to obtain licentiates in Medicine. However my grandfather passed, and my father returned to manage the family property.

My father decided to build his own home at Nellattu, because the Mooolamuriyil home was overflowing.

My mother, Achamma, is from the Kozhimannil family and from Mallapalli, which is only a few miles from Nellattu/Vallomkollam. Many in her family were highly educated and her brother, Dr. Verghese, was the Kochi Durbar Physician.

Before school

As the youngest of a large family, I enjoyed considerable freedom. I was always adventurous, and not averse to taking risks. When I was only 3 years old, I asked my mother for a chakram (equal to 1/28th of a rupee), eager to buy candy from a stall on the main road. One of the customers at the stall scolded me for wandering away from home at such a young age. The stall owner, however, was taken by my gumption. He smiled, gave me the candy, and asked me to scurry home as fast as I could, before I ran into more trouble.

 

School Years

I started my education at a Malayalam-medium school. I then transferred to the Eraviperoor school, which was an English-medium school that had grown by adding higher grades each year. A close buddy of mine at the time was Chackokutty. We enjoyed running track and playing football with an old tennis ball. I remember Chackokutty’s older brother showed up one day wearing shoes! That was a big event, as most of us wore no shoes; we walked and played barefoot.

 

One incident I recall was a long, perhaps too long, joyride. I decided to venture out on a bicycle left by a person from Vennikollam. I crossed the bridge over the Manimala river and made it to Tiruvella with relative ease. Sensing no discomfort, I explored further to Karakkal. There I came upon a long series of steps on the way. I hoisted the bike up on my shoulder, and started up the steps confidently. Half-way up, however, I realized I had bitten off too much. I was so exhausted and disoriented that I froze, unable to move up or down the stairs. Some passersby recognized my predicament and helped me down. I stopped for a few minutes to recover, and promptly pedaled back home!

 

Another memorable incident involved my sister, Mary (aka Thankochamma). She was also an adventurous soul like me, and had struck out on her own and gone to Medical School in Gwalior. Mary had come home for a few days and wanted me to take her to our cousins’ place nearby to Moolamooriyil. She followed as I led, dressed to the nines. I was concerned, however, that I would be teased for having a girlfriend. So I maintained sufficient distance, hoping that nobody would notice. She must have been perplexed by my odd behavior.

    

Intermediate College in Trivandrum

In those days, high school finished after the sixth form. While that was the final year of formal schooling for many, some went on to obtain an intermediate degree, and fewer still went on to college or professional study.

 

Some in my family recommended I do my Intermediate. The nearest such institution, however, was the Science College in far-away Trivandrum. At the time, the Science College was under the Madras University. Given my adventurous spirit and having experienced travel outside my village, I was comfortable taking this next step. I believe I traveled all the way to Trivandrum by bullock cart. Upon arriving there I moved in briefly with my sister Annamma Chandapillai. I then joined my other sister, Aliyamma Thomas in Nanthancode, as her place was walking distance, albeit a longish walk, to the Science College. I took French, not Malayalam, for my language requirement. Not because I thought I would need French, but because it was impossible to get good grades in Malayalam. I studied hard and did well in my Intermediate coursework.

 

Engineering College in Trivandrum

A lecturer, formerly from Guindy Engineering College in Madras, where my brother K. C Eapen had studied engineering, encouraged me to pursue engineering at the newly opened Engineering College. The Diwan, C. P. Ramaswamy Iyer, had argued that Tranvancore deserved its own University and professional schools, independent of any affiliation with Madras University. While he was unable to open a Medical School, lacking a teaching hospital nearby, he succeeded in attracting faculty from elsewhere to open an Engineering College.

 

The former lecturer from Guindy also urged me to prepare for the interview. Despite my academic performance in the Intermediate College, he felt some practical knowledge would be useful. I heard that a cousin had a book titled “How it works and how it’s done”, which provided an overview of such knowledge. He also mentioned an example of the type of questions that are asked: you are given a drawing that has only half an object, say an elephant, and asked to draw by hand the missing half.

 

I was interviewed by Prof. Deshpande, who would later become a mentor, and Prof. Matthewman. Much to my surprise, I was shown a drawing with the front half of an elephant and asked to fill in the rear half! No problem. Another question Prof. Deshpande asked me is: what is in the front of a train, near the top? He was thinking of the boiler chimney. I answered: steam whistle. While traveling by train, I had been fascinated by the steam whistle that was also located in the same general area. Despite my inability to answer correctly, it was clear to both interviewers that I was capable and deserved admission.

 

Once admitted, I moved from my sister’s place in Nanthancode to the LMS, London Missionary Service, Hostel, which was closer to the Engineering College. My brother, K. C. George, who ran a coir factory in Allepey, offered to cover board and lodging: Rs.10 per month for food, the best food I ever had and Rs.3 per month for my room. Every month I would receive a money order from him for Rs.19, which left me Rs.6 for incidental costs.

 

I flourished in Engineering College. In addition to doing well academically, I enjoyed a variety of extracurricular activities. I was active in the Labor Corps, an Officer Training Corp, which later became the National Cadet Corps and rose to the top rank of Sergeant Major. During my final year I asked for and received special dispensation to skip OTC so I could focus on studying.

I also recall sweeping all the middle and long distance events at an Athletic meet. I was called up over and over again to the podium to receive a medal from Mrs. Deshpande.

I graduated near the top of my class with a degree in Civil Engineering.

 

Lecturer at Engineering college in Trivandrum

Upon graduation, my aim was to join the state PWD (Public Works Department). Fortunately, Prof. Deshpande recognized that my chances were limited because PWD appointments often went to politically connected applicants. He encouraged me to stay on at the Engineering College and take up a recently opened position as a Lecturer. He sold me on the idea that it would serve as a fallback, in case it took longer than expected to join the PWD.

When I returned to Trivandrum, after a break at home, I heard about the Sir John Sargent Scheme that provided fellowships for graduate study overseas. I wrote away for the forms but did not receive any. A niece of mine, interested in further study in Statistics, had already obtained a set of forms. She offered me her forms, as her interest had waned subsequently, but I did not want her to give up on my account. She then offered to type out a set of forms (in quadruplicate with carbons!) based on what she had. I submitted my application on those forms, but did not hold high hopes.

 

Six months later, I receive a call to report to Delhi for interviews. I was initially reluctant to go, given that my finances were tight. I was also concerned about my lack of familiarity with Delhi, and the considerable uncertainty that still remained about actually receiving the fellowship. But Prof. Deshpande strongly encouraged me to go. He even offered to finance my trip. An acquaintance, Alexander, who was a bit of a dandy, offered formal clothing. I decided to pay for the trip by selling off my bicycle for a couple of hundred rupees. I sold the bike back to P. I. Jacob, who had sold it to me earlier. He had bought a new bike before he learned how to ride, and decided it wasn’t worth the bother!

The train ride to Delhi was long and arduous. The train was packed with returning troops, and fights would break out occasionally. The Allies had declared victory in Europe, but victory in Japan was still months away. I was adopted by a kind soul who would rush out at train stations and procure what limited food was available.

 

My mother must have contacted her brother Col. Verghese, who was a doctor following in the footsteps of their father, the Kochi Durbar doctor. His son, B. G. Verghese, received me at the Delhi station. B. G. asked me to wait, as he had to also pick up another cousin who had applied for the same scholarship, for study in meteorology. She and I went to our interviews and were told informally that we had performed reasonably well. We waited in Delhi for a few days to receive confirmation. Our applications were to be sent to different universities in the US, and our scholarship was contingent on receiving admission to a graduate program. Col Verghese also posted an Rs.2,000 bond for each of us. I then returned to Trivandrum, waiting to hear more.

 

Coming to America

Boarding a troop ship in Calcutta

A few months later I received notification that I had been admitted for an M.S. in Civil Engineering at Carnegie Institute of Technology, in Pittsburgh, PA. I was asked to travel to Calcutta to join a troop ship returning to the US from the Pacific theater. An acquaintance loaned me his cabin trunk and Alexander loaned me some clothes, including winter clothing.

I arrived at the docks in Calcutta, quite unfamiliar with the local language, Bengali, and surroundings. They informed me that I should return every Monday for news of the troop ship. I met K. M. Paul, a first cousin, there and he took me to his place. I remember being really hungry and wolfed down some hastily prepared jam sandwiches.

 

After two weeks or so, I boarded a troop ship. I was joined by other scholarship recipients from around the country. There was a rumor that we would be assigned cabins. After all, the Indian Govt. would want us to travel in comfort. Those hopes turned out to have little basis. Only senior officers were provided cabins. Our luggage went into storage and we were assigned bunks in the hold! Conditions on the ship were Spartan, food was slopped onto steel trays, and the bathrooms were open and not particularly hygienic.

 

I recall the troop ship zigzagged frequently as it made its way to Aden, and then on to New York. Even though it was late 1945, they may have been concerned about pockets of resistance from troops unaware the war was over. It was a long trip with little to occupy us. A soldier, Stepaniak, must have noticed I was unprepared for the upcoming cold weather and gave me his military jersey.

 

Conditions improved dramatically upon landing in New York. We were met by a travel agent who took us to a nice hotel. We even shopped for clothes at Macy’s.

 

On to Pittsburgh

After a brief stay in New York City, I boarded a train for Pittsburgh. Arriving in Penn Station, I checked my trunk in at the left luggage counter and headed to the Carnegie campus. After some inquiries, I made my way to the Civil Engineering Department and found the chair, Dr. Frederick Theodore Mavis. Dr. Mavis had received his doctorate in France and was a man of few words. He suggested I take some undergraduate engineering courses and left me to find accommodation. I contacted the Dean next, who informed me that he had some bad news: I needed to stay temporarily in an undergraduate dorm. No problem, I said. I returned to Penn Station, picked up my trunk, and slept deeply as I had finally reached my destination. A few days later I moved to my own room. I ate my meals at the cafeteria.

 

I focused on my coursework. By October 1946, I had earned an MS, having completed the necessary courses and two independent studies. Dr. Mavis was keen that I stay on, and get a D. Sc. Degree. Prof. Harold Thomas, a recent arrival at Carnegie, also pushed me to study further. He even suggested I pursue a topic he had considered: cavitation in hydraulic structures. His interest in the topic was roused by the pitting observed on propellers of large ocean liners. Air bubbles formed when propellers rotate, collapse subsequently and create a hammer-like impact.

 

As I had some free time before I took up my doctoral work, Prof. Thomas introduced me to the supervisor at an Alcoa plant nearby. I worked diligently for a month there. I recall an incident because I showed some quick thinking. I had decided to take a break and went downstairs to get some ice cream. It seemed so delicious that I bought a second cone and asked for it to be wrapped. As I returned to my desk, enjoying my cone, my supervisor wanted to know why I’d left my post. I told him. He jokingly asked me why I didn’t get him a cone too. I promptly handed him my extra cone, as if I had intended to do so all along! The staff at Alcoa must have been suitably impressed by my capabilities, as they offered me a job at the company if I decided to not pursue further study.

I then prepared for a qualifier oral exam, which is held over two days. I also satisfied my language requirements by studying French and German. Two years later, after successfully defending my dissertation on hydraulics, I was awarded my doctorate. To my knowledge, I am the first D. Sc. in Civil Engineering from Carnegie. Quite an achievement, given that only a few years earlier I was running around barefoot in a small village in Kerala.

 

Travels outside Pittsburgh

I headed West to visit a few cities and see some dam sites. I recall the Grand Coulee Dam, dams built by the Army Corps of Engineers, as well as visits to Denver and Los Angeles. I made friends along the way. I remember being in LA, quite agitated about missing my train back. A gentleman inquired and offered to drive me to the train station. We had some adventures along the way, but I caught that train.

 

I also was eager to learn more about the TVA (Tennessee Valley Authority), which operates a number of dams. A friend and I first drove down from Pittsburgh on a reconnaissance trip. He was concerned I would face discrimination, not being white, and be denied access to hotels and restaurants. Things were not too bad: my friend was able to reassure those who asked that I was from India and highly educated. We stayed there overnight and returned to Pittsburgh the next day.

I then went back to the TVA for a longer stay. They were able to provide accommodation and food within their campus and I did not need to venture much outside.

 

Coming Home

Return to India

By the summer of 1948, I along with a few other Sargent Fellows started our travels back to India. Being in no hurry to return, we intentionally missed the call to sail to London on the Queen Elizabeth liner. We made sure to catch the Queen Mary, as the next Cunard liner would not sail for a while. We then waited in London to board a flight or ship to India. As London had not yet recovered from the war, it was not pleasant. The hotel we were assigned to was in disrepair and food rationing limited what we could eat. Rather than endure London, we decided to cross the Channel into France. We changed some of our money into French francs in the black market to get better rates. We also visited Switzerland, where I purchased an Omega watch.

 

We soon received word that arrangements had been made to fly us to Bombay, via Beirut. We returned to London and caught the flight. Bad weather at Beirut caused the flight to be rerouted to Cairo. We waited briefly in Cairo until the weather cleared. As we approached Bombay, however, we were again rerouted, this time to Karachi. Some of my colleagues were concerned about their fate:  the 1947 partition, along with its violence, was still fresh in our minds. We continued to Bombay without incident and reached India in September 1948.

 

I stopped for a day or two in Bombay, to visit my brother K. C. Koshy, and then proceeded to Kerala. I stayed briefly at the YMCA in Trivandrum and looked for Prof. Deshpande. He had moved on. I then visited the Tennis Club and met Col. Godavarma Raja. He was an avid sportsman and founded the Tennis and Golf Clubs in Trivandrum.

 

I returned home to find much had transpired in the three years I had been away. My family had kept from me the sad news of my father’s passing, thinking that there was little I could do and it would negatively affect my time overseas. My brothers, K. C. Koshy and K. C. Eapen had also been married in the interim.

 

I moved to Alleppey, at my brother's (K. C. George’s) place, awaiting the arrival of my luggage, which was sent by ship. I passed the time with his three daughters; teasing them, climbing mango trees, and such. The month or so that I spent there helped me recover from the grief of my father’s death.

 

I also used the time to visit other family. On one of those trips, a stranger stopped the bus and asked me to step down. I was unsure about what was going on. It was Thomas Kuriyan, the father of Susy, my bride-to-be. I must have passed that first test, as he continued to discuss with K. C. George the possibility of marriage. I had brought along two folding umbrellas from the US, a novelty at the time. One I gave to Mrs. Anna George, aka Kunjunjamma, and the other I held on to. It was for my bride, to be given to her when I married. My nieces in Alleppey were not happy.

 

Starting my career

As a condition for the Sargent Fellowship, I was required to work for the Government of India. The Ministry of Education was in touch with me about possible positions. I sought an offer that would leverage my skills and training. After a couple of less promising opportunities, one appeared in early 1949: the recently formed Central Water and Power Commission was seeking Assistant Engineers. The Public Services Commission, which interviews candidates for Central Government positions, called me to Delhi toward the end of 1948. They found me suitable for the position of Assistant Engineer. They noted, however, that my post graduate education entitled me to a head start over other recent graduates offered the same position. They suggested I hold off on accepting the offer until it included five pay increments.

 

When the requisite offer came through, I accepted and moved to Delhi in early 1949. I was to join the Central Water and Power Commission (CWPC), which later split into separate water and power commissions. It was headed by Dr. A. N. Khosla and had been modeled after the US Federal Bureau of Reclamation, responsible for many dams in the West. The Indian Govt. had sent an officer to Denver to better understand the Bureau’s operations. On his way back he met a Dr. Karpov in New York, who had dam design experience in both Russia and the US. Dr. Karpov was hired to head the design unit at CWPC that I was to join. In its early days the design unit focused on the Hirakud Dam, a project that had just been initiated in 1948.

 

Starting a family

With a job in hand, I was officially eligible to get married! Thomas Kuriyan would call on occasion, encouraging me to visit Madras to see Susy. One Friday night that summer I hopped onto an airmail flight to Madras, via the hub in Nagpur. I was able to briefly see Susy at her residence in Peters Road, before I rushed back to Delhi by train. While Susy suspected a matrimonial alliance, she was likely unaware of how far along the process had progressed. Regardless, we shared little at that first meeting.

 

I accepted the marriage proposal and Susy and I were married on December 9, 1949. The wedding took place in Kavyur, Thiruvella. As Susy was not a Jacobite, she was rechristened prior to the wedding. Many in my family attended.

Over the next 15 years, Susy and I had four children: Jacob, Susan, Minnie, and Tommy. They have since married and started their own families. We have seven grandchildren, and four great grandchildren.

 

After the wedding, Susy joined me in Delhi. The YMCA, where I had been staying, did not allow married couples. We stayed at first in paying guest accommodations and then moved into government assigned quarters.

    

Culture clash

In many ways joining the CWPC design team was a good fit for me. I was able to implement all I had seen and learnt in the US. Being familiar and comfortable with the way Americans conducted business, Dr. Karpov and I built instant rapport. I was respectful but not obsequious. I would pull up a chair and discuss matters with my seniors, rather than stand to show respect. We understood each other well and I became the conduit for interactions between Dr. Karpov and the rest of the design team. Within six months, I had been promoted to a Class I officer. I also connected well with Dr. Khosla, as I did with other senior engineers who joined through the select Indian Service of Engineers (ISE).

 

Dr. Karpov was not as happy in his interactions with others. He had little time for the politicking that was common in India. His frustration was visible at an annual meeting of the Central Board of Irrigation and Power. Even though the meeting was intended for high-level officials, Dr. Karpov insisted I accompany him. Dr. Khosla chaired the meeting and prepared to work through an agenda. C. L. Handa, an engineer from Punjab who had worked with Dr. Khosla on the Bhakra project, took the stage and seemed to wander on and on. After a while, Dr. Karpov reminded Dr. Khosla that they had a full agenda and were making insufficient progress. Dr. Khosla took control again, and successfully cleared all agenda items.

 

The crew from Punjab were not happy. They were used to a different operating style and surely they deserved more respect than this foreigner. They protested to Dr. Khosla and suggested he get rid of Karpov. Sensing the tension, Karpov decided he had had enough. He quit.

 

Karpov’s absence created a vacuum. While the relatively young team was able to do much of the work that was required on the Hirakud project, there was clearly a need for a senior person to head the team. While searching for a replacement for Karpov, Dr. Khosla received an application from Dr. K. L. Rao, who was working at a research institute in Madras and had authored six papers. Dr. Rao was recruited to lead the CWPC’s design team.

Dr. Rao being more used to a hierarchical management style was surprised and confused by the way I conducted myself. Why was I not appropriately respectful of him? Why was I not appropriately respectful of people senior to him, when he walked on eggshells in their presence? A meeting I had with Kanwar Sain captures well this difference in style. I was sitting down with Mr. Sain preparing a compendium of papers for an earth-moving conference. Dr. Rao enters the room, seeking to engage Mr. Sain in a conversation. In Dr. Rao’s mind, the tableau unfolding in front of him made no sense. Why is Mr. Sain more eager to talk to me than to him? Why am I sitting when he is standing?

 

It’s fair to say that my style was not the norm in the Indian Govt. I recognized talent and hard work, and expected my talent and hard work to be recognized by the others. I was happy to roll up my sleeves, get into the trenches, and get the job done. Many others preferred a more passive style: they were happy to be less decisive, unwilling to take clear positions as it exposed them to the risk of being wrong after the fact. Also, I was fully occupied at work, leaving little time to build personal relationships with my superiors and leadership at related organizations.

 

Hirakud

To advance in the CWPC, I needed some field experience. Given my familiarity with the design of Hirakud, it seemed natural to get my hands dirty by joining the project site. Dr. Rao preferred I stay on, however, and it took some persuasion on my part to convince Dr. Rao to release me. In September 1952, I moved to Hirakud as an Assistant Executive Engineer, a transition position leading up to Executive Engineer. Susy had gone to her parents in Madras for the delivery of our first child, and joined me soon after.

I was placed in charge of the construction of one half of the body of the dam. I reported to a Superintending Engineer, who in turn reported to the Chief Engineer, Mr. Thirumalaya Iyengar. We were lucky to procure a substantial amount of equipment left behind by a US consortium after they completed a dam elsewhere in India.

 

Not surprisingly, construction of a large dam is not without its challenges. Despite our best efforts to anticipate upcoming hurdles, Man and Nature provided their share of excitement. I was constantly reminded about the old adage: necessity is the mother of invention. In addition to adapting and making do with what is available, speed and decisiveness are key. It also required constant supervision and watchfulness. I spent long days on site, and had great difficulty staying awake as I dove home late at night. The only respite I knew was when all construction was shut down for a couple of months when the monsoon arrived each year.

 

Here are two examples of the unexpected challenges that I faced. Crane operators would pick up trolleys containing cement from a rail line and drop them off at the top of the dam under construction. Swinging the boom too sharply, in an effort to speed up the process, runs the danger of damaging the crane’s boom. One night after I left the site, the crane operator swung the boom too quickly and it snapped. No crane, no cement, no progress! Not only did I need to have my repair shop attempt to reconstruct the boom, I also needed another crane to lift the repaired boom in place. Fortunately, I was able to procure a crane from Mr. Aggarwal, my counterpart constructing the other half of the main dam (from the opposite bank of the Mahanadi river). A few days later, the repaired crane was back in operation and construction resumed.

 

The other example relates to a flood caused by a breach in an upstream coffer dam, which is a temporary dam constructed to control water flow while the main dam is being built. To add to the chaos of dealing with the rush of water coming from the breach, a large pump used to pump out water fell into the flood waters. A pump that has been submerged in water is normally damaged beyond repair. One of my workers suggested we call the divers immediately and pull the pump out. Once we got the pump out, we started cleaning out the motor windings. Once the windings were re-varnished and dried, the pump was back in operation and we were able to pump out the flood water.

 

A year after I arrived, I was promoted to Executive Engineer and moved to the on-site design office. The Executive Engineer from Odisha that I handed over to left unexpectedly and I returned to the construction site, but continued to cover my design responsibilities. I was supervising a crew of about 400 people.

Recognizing that my superintendent and chief engineers were similarly preoccupied by their own issues, I generally put my fires out on my own. There was minor labor unrest; missing bundles of payroll cash; need to borrow cement from a nearby Aluminum Company plant; and so on.

 

There was one major accident, however, that required the full attention of all concerned. Whereas most of the dam is concrete, a small section is constructed of masonry, because Thirumalai Iyengar was a fan of masonry dams. We had built a bamboo ladder network for that section, and were within 6 feet of the top. One day the ladder collapsed and workers died. It was a very unfortunate and tragic accident.

 

In January, 1957 the dam was inaugurated by Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru. We were all on our toes, as we wanted a flawless ceremony. The logistics of so many VIPs—many with unique and unusual requests—arriving at a remote location required our constant attention. One minister brought his personal cow that had to be milked in his presence! And a dance troupe from Odisha wanted to perform at the inauguration. The dam site was not really a suitable site for artistic performances. I prepared a makeshift stage with railway sleepers and tarps, but warned the troupe that it was unstable. So they stood and sang, rather than perform their dance. I’m certain they were disappointed, but that was the best I could do given the circumstances. At the end of the inauguration, I was asked to drive the Prime Minister across the top of the dam, from the Hirakud side to the Burla side.

 

Roorkee and Delhi

Once the dam was inaugurated, I was hoping to return soon to CWPC in Delhi. Dr. Khosla had left CWPC to become the Vice Chancellor of the newly formed Roorkee University (formerly the Thomason College). He told me that the culture at CWPC had changed over the five or so years since I left. He asked me to join him at a new Institute he had developed at Roorkee: Water Resources Development & Training Centre (WRDTC). Dr. Khosla was persuasive!

 

I joined the WRDTC, under Mr. Kathpalia. The first batch of trainees had arrived from different parts of the world. It was hard work, being a Professor and a nanny!: Many trainees had limited English skills and many were hoping we would help them find in Roorkee the kind of foods they were used to. We switched to an all-domestic class from the second batch on.

 

In early 1959, as I was moving back to Delhi, Susy was expecting our third child. We requested the Army hospital in Roorkee to allow the delivery there. As we were unrelated to the military, they could not register the birth. I had to obtain a birth certificate separately from Roorkee.

 

I rejoined the CWPC as Director of Costing. A Director is in between a Superintending Engineer and a Chief Engineer. Settling in is not easy when moving to a big city like Delhi: finding suitable accommodation, obtaining admission for the children at reasonably good schools, and so on. We were in temporary housing for a few months before moving to Sujan Singh Park. The costing function was relatively minor at CWPC. Over the next five years, I expanded my scope of responsibility by adding Safety and then New Proposals.

 

In 1965 I moved back to WRDTC in Roorkee as Senior Professor. We enjoyed Roorkee for the next three years. We made friends there, and were close to Shankar and Claudia Lal, and their four children.

 

In 1968 I returned again to home base in Delhi. We lived for a couple of years in A block of the Multistory apartments on the Ring Road in R K Puram.

 

Simla and Bhutan

In 1970 I moved to Himachal Pradesh as Chief Engineer. The State Electricity Board was being formed at that time. I first became Member of the board, and then Chairman. We lived initially in Bemloe near Chota Shimla and then moved to Brockhurst. Shimla is very pleasant in the summer, but can get cold in the winter. We had wood-burning stoves in the main living areas to keep us warm.

 

I returned briefly to Delhi in 1974, and soon became member of the CWC (The CWPC had split into its Water and Power wings). In late 1975, I am asked to go to Bhutan as General Manager of the Chukha Project in Chimakothi. Bhutan is a lovely country, but relatively undeveloped. Over the next three years I am able to move the project forward substantially.

 

I return to Delhi in late 1978, as Chairman of the CWC. I was also Secretary to the Government of India. We lived in a bungalow on Tilak Marg. I retired at age 58 in June, 1980. Over the 32 years, from 1948 to 1980, I started at the bottom and made it all the way to the top of the CWC. It was a stint that I found rewarding because of all I was able to do.

 

One accomplishment that I will describe next exemplifies my working style: no-nonsense and focused on moving forward to establish tangible gains. India and Pakistan had been entangled in a dispute about waters of the Indus river and its tributaries. India sought to build a dam in Jammu on the Chenab River. An early treaty allowed it to do so, provided no water was redirected. That is, the dam would be used to generate power and serve no irrigation purposes. Pakistan was concerned not only that this constraint be observed, but that the dam not be used as a strategic weapon if hostilities broke out. In essence, what if India suddenly released waters from the reservoir upstream of the dam in an effort to flood downstream areas in Pakistan?

 

Each side in the dispute was led by a Commissioner, who was supported by a team of technical experts. Frequent meetings were held, alternately in India and Pakistan, to work toward resolving concerns. I attended one of these meetings as an observer. It seemed to me that both sides were skirting the key issues and spending time discussing peripheral ones. I raised my hand and asked to be heard. I then explained to the Pakistani delegation why their concerns were without basis. The Pakistani Commissioner was moved to say: “I see reason in Thomas’ argument.”

 

To allay their fears, I told the commissioner that I would ask on his behalf additional questions that were likely on his mind, but had not asked. What if, for example, India were to bomb its own dam in an effort to flood Pakistan? I walked them through the topography of the river downstream of the dam. There were two sharp bends in the river on Indian soil, before it reached Pakistan. Any large discharge of water from the dam would overflow the banks of the river at those two “chicken necks”. Rather than flood Pakistan, those discharges would create floods in India.

 

I had discovered that the Pakistani Commissioner, Mr. Rahman, had studied in Gwalior and Roorkee before partition. I was building a rapport with him, and he began to trust me. Four more meetings were scheduled, but they were mostly perfunctory. Much of the groundwork had been laid in that first meeting.

 

I met Mr. Rahman after one of these subsequent meetings and asked him if I could visit two of their dams that the international dam community suspected were facing substantial technical problems. It was in many ways an audacious request. India was an enemy, and Pakistan would not normally reveal sensitive aspects of their dams to an Indian engineering expert. That would have certainly been the case if the situation was reversed: a senior Pakistani engineer asked to inspect problematic dams in India. Mr. Rahman said he would look into it and we parted. Much to my surprise, three weeks later I received an invitation to visit, including airline tickets and a visa. Mr. Rahman clearly understood my interest was purely technical. I got joy from visiting dams and tackling complex problems related to dams.

 

I was received warmly in Pakistan and allowed unfettered access to both dam sites. The first dam, still under construction, was plagued by water leaking through the dam. The dam, which would be 350 feet high, was built on sandy soil. As I had seen in one of the TVA dams, the remedy was to lay down five feet of clay on the upstream side. They had done that along the bed, but not along the sides. The second dam appeared to be “slipping” downstream, even though it was a concrete dam. I reassured them that it was unlikely to slide. But for peace of mind, I advised them to cut a groove near the bottom on the upstream face of the dam, and build up a wall using concrete. I did not return to observe what action they took, but the dam seems to be operating well.

 

Post-retirement

I had over the years held the thought that a UN job would be a fitting end to my career. It would allow me to supplement my meager savings and also gain overseas experience in dam building. After retiring in 1980, my first such project was an exploratory one to Vietnam. At the time, Vietnam had only recently been reunited in 1976, after the long and devastating war. Security was an issue and the proposed sites were not easily accessible. When I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, formerly Saigon, I was hugged by a Vietnamese official. I was indeed surprised by this unabashed show of affection. It turned out that one of the senior Vietnamese engineers, who had been a trainee at WRDTC in Roorkee, had vouched for my competence and dedication! I was able to drive North from Saigon and get to one of the sites, with some difficulty. The local tribespeople seemed unfriendly and I was accompanied by armed guards. I was also able to gain access to the drawings and maps that had been prepared for the project. I made a second visit too and wrote in my report that construction of the dam is feasible only after the required infrastructure is in place.

 

Three years later, in December, 1983, the United Nations appointed me as the Chief Technical Adviser and Project Manager of one of their Water Resources Development Projects in Kisumu, Kenya. After completion of this assignment, I returned to India in August, 1987.

 

Ever since I have been working as a consultant to various Indian Government agencies and International Organizations as well as advising Government officials.