Sitaram Yechury: Babu I knew

12th August 1952. Chennai. I was sitting in our car, outside the nursing home, when news came that my sister, Kalpakam, had delivered a baby boy. My joy knew no bounds, and I rushed out, eager to say hello to my newborn nephew. It was then that I was told, that the new arrival was born in the Rohini Nakshatram and, even that, on the day of Krishnashtami. That was the day on which in Hindu Mythology, Lord Krishna slayed his maternal uncle Kamsa. I had to wait until, as the tradition went, the image of the baby was shown to me in a vessel of coconut oil, before I could see him, or touch him directly.

I used to help my sister, and my mother, take care of the baby and looked after him like a younger brother, I once dropped him on a slab of stone quite inadvertently. Fortunately, his physical and intellectual faculties survived my carelessness.

Although separated, in age by above seven years, we were brought up like siblings. My mother was so fond of him that I actually often felt pangs of jealousy. And Sitaram (the name of his paternal grandfather given to him in accordance with the Telugu tradition) would call my mother as Amma and not Ammamma (or maternal grandmother). So fond were my parents of Babu, and so innocent and sweet he looked, that I often had to face the punishment for the mischief he had committed!

Babu, as he was known to close friends and relatives, grew up to be a fine young man. Handsome, endowed with a cheerful and endearing smile and soft spoken, he was an extremely talented tennis player with great promise and, excelled in studies, both in school and college.

It was his joining the Jawaharlal Nehru University in Delhi that proved to be the beginning of a career in politics. To this day, people, who were his contemporaries in the university at that time, remember him with great regard and affection.

During the national emergency period in 1975, he had to remain underground, as the police were after him. Naturally enough, my parents decided that he should stay with me in Kurnool where I was posted at that time. In my own affectionate way, I tried to reason with him and discourage him from continuing with his political activities. Not only did I fail, but narrowly escaped being converted, myself, into a communist!

Over the last ten years that I spent in Hyderabad, after my superannuation from service, and subsequent retirement from the National Disaster Management Authority, he stayed with Usha, my wife, and me, at our home during his visits to Hyderabad. The little time he spent with us, I felt, was a welcome respite for him, from the hectic and onerous responsibilities he had to cope with as a leader in the CPI (M).

Like many great people, whose fundamental commitment is to the welfare of the people of the country, he remained stoic in overcoming the grief following the tragic loss of his young son, a few years ago. And continued his ceaseless struggle for promoting the cause of the rapid growth and sustainable development of the country, till the end.

As a son, grandson, sibling, husband, father, and, grandfather, he was a role model. And his contribution as a leader of an important party at a very crucial period in the early history of India was recognized, and applauded, both within the country and in many nations of the world.

It is sad that there will be no more articles in the fortnightly ‘Left Hand Drive’ column in the Hindustan Times daily. And the rich timber of his stentorian voice and the courage, and conviction with which he spoke have been silenced forever. I am but one of the millions of people who adored and admired Sitaram. The flood of sympathy, and sorrow, pouring into my WhatsApp, from various corners of the country, in the world, shows the love and affection they had for him and the high esteem in which they held him.

I pray to the Almighty to rest the departed Soul in peace.