Iron Gate 2.0?

Iron Gate 2.0?

Competing with others for a finite amount of anything is a daunting task. Doing so on the basis of solely merit can overwhelm any determined or skilled individual. So when I decided to toss my hat in the ring and go head-to-head with over 20,000 hungry applicants for a meager three open positions at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, I dreaded what I had gotten myself into. Granted, even though a large share of the applicants were competing for the 273 open positions under the administrative wing of public service, the scale of the challenge was not lost on me.

The Lok Sewa examinations are the gateway to a career in public service, from the low ranks of a Kharidar to the status of a Sachib jyu. Overseen by the Public Service Commission (PSC), they are seen as the bastion of meritocracy in an otherwise tarnished tapestry of government bureaucracy and politics. For many, it guarantees a stable job with life-long benefits and constant opportunities for promotion. But more importantly, it can be a source of pride among friends and family in a society that values prestige over a lot of things.

The last time I sat for a Nepal-based examination was in 2014 when I was finishing school. The SLC, as it was known back then, was dubbed the “Iron Gate” and considered the most difficult and important exam a Nepali would take in their life. As a high-achieving student, those exams felt nowhere near as difficult, but I was still pleasantly surprised at how well I had done.

Fast forward 10 years, after an undergraduate and a graduate degree that spanned two continents and took me to well over 15 different countries, I found myself back in a similar position, preparing for an examination many consider far more lucrative and demanding than the SLC. Having been away from the country for so long, I realized I knew very little about the political, economic, and administrative landscape of the country I grew up in and hoped to stay in. My test-taking skills for an adrenaline-fueled three-hour writing frenzy were rusty, to say the least. If it had not been for the possibility of taking the exams in entirely English, I would have never even entertained the idea of Lok Sewa – a somewhat embarrassing truth.

As I ventured on my journey to study for the two-staged, five-paper examination, I realized I had my work cut out. The content matter in itself was not very new since they were concepts I had picked up on during my academic journey, but I still needed to familiarize myself with the general concepts of law, governance, administration, and policy in Nepal’s context. I found myself focusing more on preparing for the test-taking aspect, practicing my writing speed and devising the best way to format my answers within an allotted amount of time. I uncovered the fascinating hustle of hopeful aspirants in the busy streets of Bagbazar and Putalisadak, areas filled to the brim with institutes and bookshops promising success. I spent merely six weeks diligently studying for four different papers while others spent months preparing and taking numerous cracks at them. The Lok Sewa felt more like an “Iron Gate” than the SLC. When I made it through the first stage of the examinations, I knew I was competing with only 900 others now. The statistical likelihood of success had gone up dramatically and so had the pressure.

Two and a half months later, the reality of being a civil servant finally hit me. As an ongoing Public Policy Fellow at Daayitwa, I have had the opportunity to partner with officials at the Ministry of Finance. As I walked through the halls of Singha Durbar for the first time trying to find the office of a Saha-Sachib jyu I had an appointment with, I got excited about seeing and being in the offices of government officials. I envisioned a future where I would be going to Singha Durbar every day, and people would scan the name cards on the wall to find my name and come to my office.  

Of course, getting into public service in Nepal was never the dream job. I admit, I’ve never had one, but in terms of the endless career possibilities I envisioned, starting as a Sakha Adhikrit at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was never on the radar. As a naïve yuba returning from abroad, equipped with idealism and a sense of duty, I thought that I could help make a difference in Nepal’s maligned governance process by being a part of the system. Attempting to take the Lok Sewa at least once, I thought, wouldn’t hurt.

At the moment of writing this, I still do not know how I fared and whether I will be nominated. I don’t think the papers went that well. With examinations like these, you never know, luck matters as much as your ability. Even if I did well and my name was published by the PSC, I still would have to get through a technical examination and an interview process. What I do know is that I have no regrets or reservations regardless of whether I make the cut. I am grateful for all the knowledge about Nepal that I equipped myself with. Sure, I may not enjoy government-sponsored benefits and I may even be seen as a failure of sorts, but I believe there are other ways to contribute. Whatever the future holds and however many “Iron Gates” I encounter, I am confident that I can navigate them head-on.