I first met Ramu in 1978 on the campaign trail in Chikmagalur, during the post Emergency Lok Sabha by-election. Indira Gandhi was invited by the then chief minister Devraj Urs to contest from this constituency. Veerendra Patil had been chosen by the Janata Party of that time to fight her and George Fernandes was the campaign manager. Ramakrishna Hegde was managing the party office in Chikmagalur.
Most of the anti-Emergency groups, such as the People’s Union of Civil Liberties, were mobilising to campaign for Veerendra Patil or against Ms Gandhi. I joined the campaign and was allocated to do the door to door mobilisation in the Kudremukh Iron Ore company area, in the labour colonies and the beautiful forest areas of the Bababudan Hills. I was told by Ramakrishna Hegde that I would have to campaign along with Ramachandra Gandhi. He would be for mobilising the votes of the Scheduled Castes — the Dalits — living in the bastis and I would be to touch the hearts of women.
We met in a beautiful forest lodge, nestling in the chilly and wet top of the hills. Ramu, as always, extremely warm, easy to talk to, totally modest and said he was looking forward to the work but this was the first time he was engaging himself in what can be called “grassroots politics”. First time for me too, I said. Next morning when the jeep came to take us, the loud speakers boomed as we entered the villages, “Mahatma Gandhi’s grandson is coming here to meet you. Mahatma Gandhi’s grandson invites you to vote for Veerendra Patil”.
We alighted in a Dalit colony. Ramu, almost like Gandhi, did his namaskara modestly, spoke in Hindi more like a teacher explaining the issues that were at stake and asking them to vote for their rights, which means against anybody who could impose an emergency. It was very calm and quiet and somewhat of a let down after the booming loudspeaker announcement.
From that time on, we met in Delhi, in the early days in Connaught Place, in meetings. I would attend Ramu’s lectures, discuss his thoughts, quote him. When I told him that my son Gopal was in Oxford, his immediate response was “but so is my daughter Leela. You must ask Gopal to meet her. She is brilliant and she is doing these interesting research”. It was always sharing, loving, engaging with a curiosity which was cushioned in love. A loving soul, who quietly isolated himself, but always open to affection.
At one time he was passionate about finding a way to enable freedom for Tibet. He had designed an idea of a great peace arch and was advocating this idea passionately. At another time, he created a dance drama called Rambha and Mohan and the famous Kathak dancer Shobhana choreographed it. Ramu was the sutradhar. The whole story revolved around Gandhi and his friend Rambha, who swept the house.
As he began to be a feature of the India International Centre, sitting in the open pavilion area in a chair, totally calm, looking at space as if he was meditating — welcoming me and others, if they would like to sit and talk to him — it became a habit. I could never visit the centre without stopping to have a chat with him and we always relapsed into Tamil.
One of the recent times that I met him was after I received the Padma Bhushan. “So good”, he said. I feel quietly embarrassed. It has become such a contentious award. Many people whom I admire have refused it and earlier there was even the philosophical stand whether India should imitate the British in giving what are called the Presidential award, a form of state patronage.
Watching my confusion and embarrassment, Ramu said, “no, you should not look at it that way. In fact when people like you are recognised, it enhances the award,” lifting a huge load off my head. Ramu was doing many things — a radio programme every Wednesday for children, which Lakshmi and I would listen to. He was doing informal lectures and, though I could never go to the lectures. His interpretation of “ahimsa”, his whole discourse on consciousness and making peace through entering into the other person’s shoes as it were, has been a source of inspiration for me in trying to understand and find solutions for discrimination, racial and gender divide.
Farewell, dear friend, farewell. You have always been a quiet presence in my life and even if you are not sitting there at the centre, when I next come, you will continue to be sitting there at the centre in my mind, for me to greet you, and say a few words in Tamil on the latest progress I might have made with a book or a thought.