05-03-2006, 11:22 PM
<!--QuoteBegin-->QUOTE<!--QuoteEBegin-->Pramod was a caring, generous friend
Pioneer.com
Kanchan Gupta | New Delhi
When the mission in Cairo was informed that a parliamentary delegation would be visiting Egypt, a collective groan went up. It's not easy to handle MPs, especially when there are more than a score of them demanding attention and hospitality.
The only saving grace, I pointed out to my colleagues, is that Pramod Mahajan is leading the group, so relax. That only helped raise hackles. He is haughty and has a terrible temper, said one. He is the Parliamentary Affairs Minister and will want all of us at his beck and call, said another. He will demand extravagant hospitality, a third slyly pointed out.
None of this, of course, was proved correct. Pramod Mahajan was at his laid back best. All that he wanted was a day off from the grind of an official visit. We went off to Alexandria where he spent the better part of the day at Bibliotheca Alexandrina, stumping its redoubtable librarian Ismail Serageldin with his knowledge of Indic numerals, Arab trade and Greco-Roman philosophy.
I had to literally drag him away, partly because Serageldin's secretary kept on whispering to me that he was running behind schedule for other appointments and largely because Pramod Mahajan needed to have his lunch. Later, over a leisurely seafood meal, he wistfully said, "I wish we could build a library like this in India. But by the time I would be able to get all clearances, probably our Government would be gone." His words were to prove prophetic.
Back in Cairo, we visited the Giza pyramids where Pramod Mahajan asked a one-minute-photographer to take a picture of us standing in front of Cheops' tomb. "You see, people confuse all the three pyramids as part of the seven wonders of the world, but it's only Cheops' pyramid that is a wonder," he explained. When the photo came, he inscribed on it, "My dear Kanchan, Do you know what's older than the pyramids? Friendship! Pramod."
Our friendship began on an afternoon in 1995 when I knocked on the door of his modest, sparsely furnished MP's apartment in which he then lived in Delhi. The Pioneer was planning a special issue on how young leaders perceive India's future. Would he please agree to contribute an article? Pramod Mahajan first demurred, saying he was off to London the next evening, and then agreed. He turned in his piece - not ghost-written because it needed some editing! - the following day before leaving for London.
After he returned a fortnight later, I met him with a copy of the paper since he had not seen the printed version. "I had the article read out to me by Vivek (his secretary)," he said, and then gifted me a Parker. He cared in the most touching way. Years later, before coming to Cairo, he asked my wife what could he get her from Delhi. Asafoetida, she said. And it came.
There was something extremely endearing about Pramod Mahajan; irrespective of the stress and strain of politics, he would not forget the smallest human gesture of kindness and warmth. Soon after I gave up my job to work for the BJP, the 1996 general election was announced and Pramod Mahajan was made chairman of the national campaign committee of which he made me a member.
We would meet in his apartment early morning for strategy sessions. I doubt if he had a working kitchen those days (his wife would be in Mumbai most of the time) because he would order breakfast - idli and ipma followed by milky sweet tea - from downstairs. Those were tense days but Pramod Mahajan would not forget to ensure we were well fed for the rest of the day.
At one meeting, I casually picked up his Erickson cell phone, one of the early models, and asked him if I could make a call. "No, you must use your own phone... Here, take this." And he reached into his other kurta pocket and gave me my first cell phone.
Pramod Mahajan was generous to a fault. Once I casually mentioned to him that I wanted to take my wife and child to Kolkata for a vacation. It was during Durga Puja and there was a huge waiting list on every train; could I use his office to get train reservations? "Leave the travel details with Vivek." I did. The next day when I reached my office at 11, Ashoka Road, there was a packet waiting for me with return air tickets. No, Pramod Mahajan was not a Minister those days.
Contrary to popular notion, he led a Spartan life and lavished gifts on friends who were always welcome at any time of the day or night. He was caring and thoughtful, remembering each detail of every conversation. If he lost his cool, which he did - and how! - he would remember to give you a hug, slap your back and send you off on an assignment.
That's how we worked during three elections - 1996, 1998 and 1999. We would make mistakes and there would be serious errors of judgement. But Pramod Mahajan would always be there to fix them, quietly, silently, without ever taking recourse to rebuke or criticism.
I have had the unique opportunity to know Pramod Mahajan as a ruthless politician and a sensitive human being. I shall cherish those moments which will remind me of a friend who was also a politician.
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Pioneer.com
Kanchan Gupta | New Delhi
When the mission in Cairo was informed that a parliamentary delegation would be visiting Egypt, a collective groan went up. It's not easy to handle MPs, especially when there are more than a score of them demanding attention and hospitality.
The only saving grace, I pointed out to my colleagues, is that Pramod Mahajan is leading the group, so relax. That only helped raise hackles. He is haughty and has a terrible temper, said one. He is the Parliamentary Affairs Minister and will want all of us at his beck and call, said another. He will demand extravagant hospitality, a third slyly pointed out.
None of this, of course, was proved correct. Pramod Mahajan was at his laid back best. All that he wanted was a day off from the grind of an official visit. We went off to Alexandria where he spent the better part of the day at Bibliotheca Alexandrina, stumping its redoubtable librarian Ismail Serageldin with his knowledge of Indic numerals, Arab trade and Greco-Roman philosophy.
I had to literally drag him away, partly because Serageldin's secretary kept on whispering to me that he was running behind schedule for other appointments and largely because Pramod Mahajan needed to have his lunch. Later, over a leisurely seafood meal, he wistfully said, "I wish we could build a library like this in India. But by the time I would be able to get all clearances, probably our Government would be gone." His words were to prove prophetic.
Back in Cairo, we visited the Giza pyramids where Pramod Mahajan asked a one-minute-photographer to take a picture of us standing in front of Cheops' tomb. "You see, people confuse all the three pyramids as part of the seven wonders of the world, but it's only Cheops' pyramid that is a wonder," he explained. When the photo came, he inscribed on it, "My dear Kanchan, Do you know what's older than the pyramids? Friendship! Pramod."
Our friendship began on an afternoon in 1995 when I knocked on the door of his modest, sparsely furnished MP's apartment in which he then lived in Delhi. The Pioneer was planning a special issue on how young leaders perceive India's future. Would he please agree to contribute an article? Pramod Mahajan first demurred, saying he was off to London the next evening, and then agreed. He turned in his piece - not ghost-written because it needed some editing! - the following day before leaving for London.
After he returned a fortnight later, I met him with a copy of the paper since he had not seen the printed version. "I had the article read out to me by Vivek (his secretary)," he said, and then gifted me a Parker. He cared in the most touching way. Years later, before coming to Cairo, he asked my wife what could he get her from Delhi. Asafoetida, she said. And it came.
There was something extremely endearing about Pramod Mahajan; irrespective of the stress and strain of politics, he would not forget the smallest human gesture of kindness and warmth. Soon after I gave up my job to work for the BJP, the 1996 general election was announced and Pramod Mahajan was made chairman of the national campaign committee of which he made me a member.
We would meet in his apartment early morning for strategy sessions. I doubt if he had a working kitchen those days (his wife would be in Mumbai most of the time) because he would order breakfast - idli and ipma followed by milky sweet tea - from downstairs. Those were tense days but Pramod Mahajan would not forget to ensure we were well fed for the rest of the day.
At one meeting, I casually picked up his Erickson cell phone, one of the early models, and asked him if I could make a call. "No, you must use your own phone... Here, take this." And he reached into his other kurta pocket and gave me my first cell phone.
Pramod Mahajan was generous to a fault. Once I casually mentioned to him that I wanted to take my wife and child to Kolkata for a vacation. It was during Durga Puja and there was a huge waiting list on every train; could I use his office to get train reservations? "Leave the travel details with Vivek." I did. The next day when I reached my office at 11, Ashoka Road, there was a packet waiting for me with return air tickets. No, Pramod Mahajan was not a Minister those days.
Contrary to popular notion, he led a Spartan life and lavished gifts on friends who were always welcome at any time of the day or night. He was caring and thoughtful, remembering each detail of every conversation. If he lost his cool, which he did - and how! - he would remember to give you a hug, slap your back and send you off on an assignment.
That's how we worked during three elections - 1996, 1998 and 1999. We would make mistakes and there would be serious errors of judgement. But Pramod Mahajan would always be there to fix them, quietly, silently, without ever taking recourse to rebuke or criticism.
I have had the unique opportunity to know Pramod Mahajan as a ruthless politician and a sensitive human being. I shall cherish those moments which will remind me of a friend who was also a politician.
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