Atal Bihari Vajpayee will be remembered not simply as yet another Indian Prime Minister. His disarming aura radiated beyond politics and amply reflected in his love for food, cinema, and music. CHANDAN MITRA recalls instances that set him apart and made him adorable and awe-inspiring in equal measure
If you can endear yourself to people, you are likely to endure the travails of time. This is certainly applicable to Atal Bihari Vajpayee, whose mortal remains were consigned to panchatattva (the five elements), last week. Undoubtedly, he was not only a most respected political leader but probably the most loved Indian Prime Minister too.
The reason he was universally loved was that he was first and foremost, a magnificent human being who had pronounced likes and loves and never hid his own human frailties. In his six decades of public life, Atalji towered above his compatriots and rivals because of these human qualities that many others tried to hide.
Now that almost every aspect of his political persona has been analysed and dissected, the time has come to throw some light on other aspects of the great statesman. For example, his fondness for good food and popular entertainment, namely Hindi films and their music.
Atal Bihari Vajpayee was almost childlike in his fascination for food. like most Brahmins of Uttar Pradesh, especially those from the Mathura region, he possessed a distinct sweet tooth — something he could not contain despite being a diabetic and suffering from prostrate-related ailments.
Brahmins being traditionally a priestly class, involved with performing puja at temples and people’s homes and thus consuming prasad, usually consisting of sugar-rich condiments, developed a sweet tooth that was passed on from generation to generation — and Atalji was no exception. He could not resist the temptation if a plate of gulab jamun or laddoo or jalebi was placed before him.
A story, probably apocryphal, claims that at least one Minister in his Government owed his elevation to the fact that he regularly ferried samosas and jalebis to the then PM’s 7 Race Course Road bungalow every evening. Despite doctors’ recriminations, it was impossible for family members to restrain the patriarch who indulged this passion in utter disregard of his medical parameters.
Once I accompanied Atalji to london as part of his media delegation. That evening a gala dinner had been hosted in his honour by an NRI association. It was a huge, sit-down event in which the Indian Prime Minister was the Chief Guest who would deliver a post- dinner lecture. Tables had been laid out with immaculate precision and the service had already begun. Unmindful of his culinary preferences, the hosts had arranged shuddh shakahari (pure vegetarian) fare. Alarmed at the thought of being forced to have desi khaana in london, I quietly sneaked up to the High Table to find Atalji intently reading the menu card.
Interrupting his frown, I gingerly sought his permission to be excused from the event. “Jaao, jaao,” he cheerfully waved me on, “Ye ghass-phoos kyon khana haiij” he laughingly added. “Kahan jaane ka soch rehe hoij’ he then asked. On telling him we were proposing to have a Chinese meal at Soho, Atalji frowned again, more at himself than me. “Wahan achchha khana milta hai. Main bhi yahan se chalunga thodi der mein; yeh sab kaun khayega,” he declared with finality announcing his desire to leave the venue shortly. Beckoning his son-in-law Ranjan Bhattacharya, he whispered audibly, “Dekho Chandan Soho ja raha hai Chinese khane. Mere liye bhi wahan se hotel mein kuchh mangwa do (See, Chandan is going to Soho for a Chinese meal. Organise something from there for me too at the hotel),” he said with a sly smile.
On another foreign trip, I was chatting with some senior Government officials near the First Class bar area when lunch was announced. Air-hostesses went into the PM’s Cabin carrying the food-laden trolley, only to retreat ashen-faced. Their to and fro trip must not have lasted more than a minute. Brajesh Mishra called the senior air-hostess to ask what caused the hurried retreat. In a shaking voice she revealed: “He was very angry. ‘Who will have this ghaas phoosij’ he thundered and wanted to know the general menu. I read it out to him and he jumped at it. ‘Haan, jhinga laao aur chicken bhi’(Good, get the prawns and the chicken too.) What should I do Sirij” she queried. With a look of resignation, Ranjan told her to do as she was asked, else he would not eat anything, he mused. Brajesh Mishra concurred. The Prime Minister defiantly got his meal preference served to him, much to the annoyance of the travelling doctor who watched helplessly.
These are the human frailties that made Atalji not just an uncommon politician but also a Great leader. He could defy the world and explode nuclear devices at Pokhran in May 1998. At home he could defy everyone else and insist on meals of his choice. May we hope that in heaven, too, he is getting his favourite meals and eating to his heart’s content!
