All’s well that ends well

All my life I have been blessed with the company of a best friend. Among these and perhaps for the longest time, is Peter Hassan. This narrative will never be complete without my sharing a few thoughts with the readers about this wonderful personality.

We went to school together – the All Saints High School – in the late 1950s, he being one year ahead of me. The friendship blossomed and continued to grow from strength to strength. In 1982 when I was in the Vice-President's, office he contacted me one day to invite us over for a meal at his place.

When I asked him what he was doing those days his typical Hyderabadi the reply was "pee ke pade hue hain!.” From then on, over the next three decades and more, we have been meeting regularly either at his place or ours. Doreen, his wife, is a charming lady and a wonderful host.

There is warmth in their home, the drinks are good and the food is great. I cannot recollect whom I have not met in their house from serving Presidents of India to leading cricketers, eminent musicians, famous authors, important political leaders, most civil servants and captains of industry. His home has been a favourite destination for people from all walks of life for close to half a century.

In 1995, after joining the ministry of agriculture, I was living in a single room in the Andhra Pradesh Bhavan, expecting to be allotted residential quarters by the government of India. Naturally I thought that things happened in the normal course, in a systematic and methodical manner in a place like the central government.

How wrong I was! All of seven months had passed and no allotment was in sight. I also had heard all sorts of rumours about how out – of – turn allotments on political considerations and, what is worse, rampant corruption.

I was beginning to despair of ever getting a house and bringing Usha and children to Delhi when, one afternoon, in walks Peter, with his ever present sunny smile, and hands over, without a word, a brown envelope.

I opened the envelope rather curiously. Lo and behold! Out came the order signed by the estate officer of the government of India, allotting me a house. I neither asked then not has he ever confided in me later, how it had happened.

V.S. Rao, who worked in the office of the Central Wage Board for Cotton Textile Industry which my father worked as chairman of for a short while, was another such incurably friendly and generous human being. On my way arrival at Bandar he had introduced me to young Gopal, at that time a school student.

Gopal assisted me in settling down. The boy not only found me a place to stay but also showed me where I could eat and where the movie theatres were. He dropped in a few days ago after all a fifty years. We spent a half hour chatting pleasantly and catching up with the good old days.

As he got up to leave he looked a little sheepish and said "forgive me for doing this but it would lighted my heart,” produced Rs. 50 note from his trouser pocket and handed it over to me. Apparently, he had borrowed Rs. 42 for me towards the fee had to pay to sit for the matric examination in 1967!

Lalit Mathur is another person with whom friendship has only grown stronger with the passage of time. He called a few weeks ago to say that the former cabinet secretary Surendra Singh was heading an organisation called the Observers Research Foundation (ORF). ORF was looking for someone familiar with the agriculture sector and that he, Lalit, had suggested my name.

That introduction resulted in my participation at a workshop on the agrarian crisis in the country. Soon thereafter Deputy Chairman of the newly formed Niti Aayog invited me for a consultation on the same subject. I was, in fact, rather surprised to find myself as the only former civil servant in that forum.

The ability to contribute to national effort in different spheres of action has always been a function of proximity to Delhi, understandable as the participation of persons from far-flung places always involves extra expense. Having chosen to live in Hyderabad after my tenure in NDMA I did not expect to take an active part in the happenings at the capital city.

The consultation was enjoyable as important matters were raised and well-informed experts from different fields offered their suggestions. And the most interesting thing was that there was this tall handsome young man sitting next to me. After sometime I succumbed to curiosity and whispered my name to him.

He smiled in acknowledgement and pulled out his visiting card and handed it across. And what do I find written on it? Ajay Vir Jakhar - the grandson of Balram Jakhar who was the first minister I served under in the government of India!

A few days later I received a call from The Statesman asking for an interview on the same subject which was carried prominently in that paper.

K.M. Singh my colleague NDMA is another person whose circle of friends has never failed to amaze me. Mention the name, and no matter what the person is doing or where he is in the whole world, he would be a friend of KM’s. When I asked him the secret behind this popularity his simple response was "I invest in human beings.”