Nobody projected the best of ‘Bongness’, as much as India’s former president, Pranab Mukherjee. When he passed away on August 31, at age 84, after slipping into a coma, the heartfelt tributes from across the board said it all.
People from different strata of society, and representing diverse political ideologies, wrote the most moving tributes to the gentleman universally called and referred to as Pranab da. Da, or big brother, is not just a respectful way to address a family member, it also implies a great deal of affection for the person. Not every political leader from West Bengal gets to be called ‘da’ by the people. In that sense, Pranab da, who has been dubbed ‘the people’s rashtrapati by the media, occupied a special place in the hearts of citizens, much like another former president, the late Dr A.P.J Abdul Kalam. Perhaps, their humble beginnings and spectacular rise to the top had a lot to do with the widespread admiration enjoyed by them.
Illustration: Bhaskaran
Pranab da was born to freedom fighters in a small village called Mirity, and went on to acquire degrees in political science and history, followed by law. But far more than his academic qualifications and early career as a college teacher and journalist, it was Pranab da’s prodigious memory and incredible scholarship that impressed all those he interacted with.
I was all set to pull out my Bong Card (Bong through marriage) the only time I met Pranab da—at a tea reception organised by fashion designer Ritu Beri in a wing of the Rashtrapati Bhavan. It was a small group of mainly Delhi folks—and there was me! The protocol was amusing and I was tempted to giggle as officious members of the president’s team assigned specific ‘spots’ to each one of us, with instructions not to move an inch, or try to make conversation with the great man. That was a bummer! I had been practising my Bengali for a week, hoping for a minute or two with someone I genuinely had regard for.
The Delhiwalas were most blasé, like they were totally used to hanging out with eminent personalities in grand settings. But even they were sweating, as the countdown began, and we stood to attention, waiting for gigantic doors to be ceremoniously opened. Voila! There he was, a diminutive man with a bemused expression. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in that beautiful salon, doing namaste to a bunch of strangers he might never lay eyes on again.
An over eager man next to me stepped out of line—figuratively and literally—trying to impress Pranab da by throwing the name of West Bengal’s most prominent media man, and claiming proximity. Pranab da barely made eye contact with this corporate loudmouth who was crudely showing off his Punjabi-Bengali. Then it was my turn! Pranab da stopped and semi-smiled. I swooned! Wow, the president of India was actually smiling at me! Encouraged and emboldened, I stammered something in my far-from-immaculate Bengali. He smiled some more and declared, “It’s berry berry hot today!” And moved to the next person.
We were herded to an area just outside the salon for a group picture. Strictly no selfies, we had been warned by a stern ADC. There, under the blazing Delhi sun, for a few brief moments, all of us felt wonderful being Indians, and that sentiment had a lot to do with Pranab da’s unpretentious presence. And about how a person with Pranab da’s extraordinary grit, determination and wisdom came to occupy the highest position any citizen can dream of. RIP.
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