Eating Out

Two days before we meet, he had turned 75. His friends and admirers had come from allover India to felicitate him at the vast Palace Grounds. In the aftermath of such an eventand with a flight to catch in the evening, I didn’t expect him to come and wait forme at the Taj West End, looking so relaxed. “I am hungry, so I came in early,”he said as we settled down.

The hotel has an old world charm to it and Hegde never misses such things. He lookedpleased to be there and we didn’t waste any time to get started on a fascinatingconversation. He told me he was barely 16 when his sister, a tonsured child-widow who hadcome under the influence of Gandhiji and joined the Pavanar Ashram of Vinoba, took himwith her to the ashram. Vinobaji was fond of him and chose him for the most important workhe did every morning—to clean the village of garbage and human excreta because thevillagers refused to use the Wardha-type latrines built for them. The village was a fewmiles away from the Ashram, and en route, Vinoba taught him the Gita, the Upanishads andSanskrit, and wanted the young boy to work on a multi-language dictionary when he grew up.

I wondered if there was a paradox here—Hegde seemed to enjoy the spicy chickensoup (Tom Yam Gai) as he reminisced about those days with Vinoba? Apparently, no. He wastruly appreciative of the food—Kung Rad Prig (Jumbo Scampi topped with chilli garlicbasil sauce), Poo Pahd Nam Prig Pow (stir-fried crab with roasted chilli paste) andHaricot Pahd Pag (stir-fried tender haricot beans). But then, he’s such a polite man.You don’t expect him to express displeasure even if he felt it. This has been bothhis strength and weakness as a politician—his admirers call him Hamlet. “Do youknow what Vinoba said when I asked him why he chose me for this task? He told me that itwas to see that I shed the arrogance of being a high-caste Brahmin,” he said. And itshowed in his interaction with the waiters at the hotel—for him they were simply menwho gave him good food.

Hegde feels at home both in the old and the new world—for him a suit is ascomfortable as a kurta-pyjama. You also don’t expect a man who savours his drinks tobe a favourite of the late Morarji Desai. But he was. Hegde speaks about Morarji withgreat warmth and respect. “Morarji liked my beard. He told me that I should keepit,” he said. A fatherly exhortation, it seems, came after Hegde became the chiefminister in 1983. “He told me to reduce my drinking as I was leaving hisbedroom,” Hegde said.

That afternoon, I quoted Robert Frost’s Road not taken as his lovelygranddaughter had done two days ago when he was privately felicitated by his family. Isthere a road not yet taken in his more than fifty years of active public life? “Yes.I wanted to become a writer.”He added with a charming smile, “or ajournalist”.