S.R. Sankaran: Inspiring Story of India's People's IAS Officer & His Legendary Rickshaw Ride

S.R. Sankaran, the "People’s IAS officer," transformed bureaucracy into a shield for India's forgotten millions during his 1955-1992 career. A Tamilian from Ramanathapuram who joined the Andhra Pradesh cadre, he fearlessly battled bonded labor, caste atrocities, and tribal exploitation—often at personal cost—while his legendary simplicity at Agartala Airport captured a philosophy of empathy over entitlement.

The Airport Incident When He Avoided VIP Treatment

One sweltering late afternoon in the early 1980s, an Indian Airlines flight touched down at the modest Agartala Airport in Tripura. Among the disembarking passengers shuffled a short, frail middle-aged man, 5'4" tall, dressed in a faded white bush shirt tucked into crumpled khadi trousers, his thick black hair neatly parted despite the humidity. No entourage, just a battered rexine suitcase clutched tightly.

Airport officials bustled about, eyes darting for VIPs amid the sparse crowd. This unassuming figure ignored them, weaving through the terminal to the exit. Spotting the cycle-rickshaw stand outside, he approached a weary puller lounging under a banyan tree. In halting Hindi laced with Telugu, he haggled good-naturedly: "Bhaiya, Circuit House kitna? Bees rupaye theek hai?" The rickshaw-wallah, surprised by the soft-spoken passenger, pedaled off into the dusty road as the sun dipped low.

Behind them, pandemonium erupted. A harried policeman squinted, then exclaimed, "Arre! Yeh to Chief Secretary Sahab hain, S.R. Sankaran!" Sirens wailed as the official cavalcade—two Ambassador cars, a jeep, and escorts—surged forward. Overtaking the rickshaw amid honks, they blocked the road. Sweating collectors and SPs tumbled out, bowing profusely: "Sir, maaf karna! Car taiyaar thi—please!"

Sankaran climbed down calmly, paid the rickshaw-puller the full fare plus extra for "time waste," and waved off protests: "Auto chalega, bhai. Aap log aage jaao." Only then did he board the lead car, suitcase in lap, chatting with the driver about village roads. The episode became folklore, retold by airport staff for years.

Why It Mattered?

Sankaran owned no car, flew economy (often in shirtsleeves), and traveled by bus or train to grasp public woes firsthand. During the 1976 Bonded Labour Act enforcement, he trekked Telangana's hills nightly, raiding brick kilns to free 1,000+ laborers yearly—earning midnight threats from mafia dons. In 1985, in the aftermath of the Karamchedu massacre, he shielded the unprivileged, defying the Chief Minister's biased orders. Post-1992 retirement, he donated his full pension (Rs 25,000/month) to SC/ST hostels, living off Rs 500 savings.​

Uplifting Tribes

Sankaran's tribal crusade peaked as Andhra's Tribal Welfare Secretary (1970s-80s). Enforcing the revolutionary 1/70 Land Restoration Act, he restored 2 lakh acres to Adivasis displaced by Nizam-era grabs—trekking Godavari ghats with maps and activists, facing armed resistance from forest contractors. He halted the Polavaram dam oustees' plight by mandating rehabilitation first, promoted Minor Forest Produce (MFP) cooperatives for tendu leaves and honey (boosting tribal incomes 300%), and exposed bauxite mining scams devouring agency forests. When officials fudged reports, he'd camp in lambadas' thatched huts, documenting testimonies—empowering tribes not as vote banks, but rights-holders. His mantra: "Development must bend for dignity."

Sankaran passed on October 7, 2010, aged 79, in his modest Hyderabad home, weeks after petitioning for manual scavengers' relief. Today, the S.R. Sankaran Foundation carries his flame, but his Agartala rickshaw ride endures as the civil service's purest story of his life.