Here is some info from Edward Brand, a state administrator of the Catholic charity CARE:
Maureen and I became good friends with Ron and Amy Noronha; for our first year in Bhopal, they were our next-door neighbor. Ron Noronha, a member of the ICS, had been exiled, at that time, from Bhopal to distant Gwalior in Northern MP; there he served as Chairman of the Revenue Board. The GoMP reserved Revenue Board assignments for senior civil servants the state politicians wanted removed from Bhopal, and who could not be placed, for some reason, in another state or the Center. Lesser officials were simply transferred to a District or Department below the Ministry level. In this instance, Noronha had difficulties working with D.P Mishra, the then Chief Minister. This worked well for him, as he had to be in Gwalior usually for two days a month, and he could remained resident in Bhopal. Ronald P. Noronha was a colorful person, a type you rarely encountered. For me, Ron represented the very best of India. Born in 1916 in Hyderabad to a Goan Christian family, he grew up in what are now Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu. His father worked for the Indian Railways and his mother was a doctor. His father died when he was 15. He was noticeably bright, and after high school, the British sent him off to England on a scholarship in 1934. There he attended the London School of Economics, the University of London, B.S. (Hon) Economics, and briefly Cambridge. In 1938, working his way back to India, he stopped off in Spain. There, for six months, he did informal backup reporting for established journalists covering the end days of the Spanish Civil War. After this experience in Spain, he intended to become a photojournalist. Upon returning to India, his strong-willed mother insisted he take the Indian Civil Service exam. He did and came out first among the Indian candidates; he joined the ICS in 1939. After several assignments, in 1949 the GoMP assigned him as Deputy Commissioner in Bastar District. Bastar, in the remote southeastern part of the state, was the home to the Maria and Muria tribal peoples. The area was off-limits to outsiders. In April 1956, National Geographic magazine featured Bastar. A quote from the article was so typical of Noronha: “When I came here, in early 1949, the people weren’t impressed with my job— or with me. I don’t mean they were unfriendly. They were too well-bred for that. They simply didn’t think I was very bright. They were willing to see that I didn’t come to harm in their vast sal and teak forests, but they couldn’t see how I had any usefulness in their lives.” In Bastar at that time, tigers killed about fifty people a year. Noronha gained a reputation in the area as a man-eater tiger killer. Tribals greatly admired him as he shot from the ground, not from a platform. He stayed in Bastar for eight years, passing on better career assignments. If given a choice, he later mused, he would have remained there for the rest of his life. In Bastar at that time, tigers killed about fifty people a year. Noronha gained a reputation in the area as a man-eater tiger killer. Tribals greatly admired him as he shot from the ground, not from a platform. He stayed in Bastar for eight years, passing on better career assignments. If given a choice, he later mused, he would have remained there for the rest of his life. After Goa's independence in 1961, Delhi appointed him as Chief Civil Administrator in Goa. He returned to MP as Chief Secretary 1963, was exiled in 1969; returned as Chief Secretary in 1972 and retired in 1974. I went fishing with Ron in the Narmada River. He would have a tin cup tied to his belt, and would from time to time dip it in the water for a drink. Once while getting water this way, a charred hand bumped into his cup. He did not miss a beat; just drank the water down. He would drink any water and eat any food. He also had a chronic case of amoebic dysentery. He and the Deputy IG of Police, R.N. Nagu, would mess with each other. Nagu had joined the Police Service in 1940, and they had been fast friends since. After a reception at the Imperial Sabre Hotel, hosted by Union Carbide/India, and at which, of course, only the best Scotch Whiskies were served, Noronha invited me to have a nightcap at his Chief Secretary’s bungalow near the hotel. After a while, Nagu came by, had his driver stop the car. Nagu got out, walk passed us seated in the Garden, then urinated on the rose plants against the wall. With never a word or a glance by either, Nagu got back in his car and drove off. In the spring of 1982, I was in Delhi and traveled to Bhopal to look-up old friends. Noronha’s wife Amy told me that Ron was at his farm near Sanchi. I went out there, and found him in a dhoti behind two bullocks plowing. We went to his nearby one room mud dwelling where he served tea. He only went to Bhopal occasionally; this was now his home. Ron had turned into a small farmer totally integrated into the village society. He was now a son of the soil. He died in late November 1982. Roland Francis 416-453-3371
