<p>News of the inauguration of R K Narayan’s home in Mysuru as a tourist centre for his millions of fans took me back to a sunny day in the year 1996.<br /><br /></p>.<p>I was interviewing the great man and overwhelmed by the prospect, I had picked up two of his books to be autographed. One was The World of Nagaraj and the other The Financial Expert. He glanced at the titles and remarked they were also his favorites. And kindly wrote a message in each.<br /><br />The afternoon sun streamed into the little balcony where he carefully arranged my chair next to his – not opposite. He said he could hear better on that side.“I thought you will do all the talking,” I said. “My doctor has advised me not to talk,” came the terse reply.<br /><br />The interview started off somewhat irrelevantly. “Did you know AN Moorthy Rao?” he asked. “He was my teacher,” I answered. “Where?” “In Central College.” “What were you doing there?” he pursued. This was getting out of hand. “I am supposed to ask you questions,” I said desperately. “Then why don’t you ask them?” he said coolly.<br /><br />Suddenly, he started talking. He remembered his own undergraduate days in Maharaja’s College in Mysuru. He mentioned his teachers, one by one , and his classmates. including two other talented brothers, M V Rajagopal and M V Krishnaswamy. And, of course, the dear old city of Mysore which had inspired his best novels.<br /><br />“I loved sitting near the Kukkanahalli kere (lake) and watch the sun set.” he reminisced. That reminded him of his father who had by then concluded that his son was a failure. He had already quit one job as school teacher in Chennapatna and spent his days loafing around the town. There was no money and he refused to apply for the post of Amildar in the Revenue department.<br /><br />RKN remembered his father’s despair when he told him he wanted to be a writ-er. “There is no money in that professi-on,” cried an aghast parent. True, he was paid a pittance for writing a column in a small newspaper and roamed the market place for his inspiration with “just a betel nut in my pocket and nothing else to eat.”<br /><br />His younger brother, Laxman, ran to the newspaper office every evening carrying the precious column. His initial break came with the publication of “Swamy and Friends” when he happily placed the first copy in his father’s paralysed hand. “It was too late” he sighed. “My father was not aware of anything.”<br /><br />When he invited me to see his study, I saw the blue print of the Yadavagiri mansion. “That was the house I built,” said an exuberant RKN. “Look at this study with all those large windows. There were hundreds of books...”<br /><br />When I asked him if he was going back, he choked back his unshed tears. RK Narayan will surely feel happy now that many others will do so.</p>
<p>News of the inauguration of R K Narayan’s home in Mysuru as a tourist centre for his millions of fans took me back to a sunny day in the year 1996.<br /><br /></p>.<p>I was interviewing the great man and overwhelmed by the prospect, I had picked up two of his books to be autographed. One was The World of Nagaraj and the other The Financial Expert. He glanced at the titles and remarked they were also his favorites. And kindly wrote a message in each.<br /><br />The afternoon sun streamed into the little balcony where he carefully arranged my chair next to his – not opposite. He said he could hear better on that side.“I thought you will do all the talking,” I said. “My doctor has advised me not to talk,” came the terse reply.<br /><br />The interview started off somewhat irrelevantly. “Did you know AN Moorthy Rao?” he asked. “He was my teacher,” I answered. “Where?” “In Central College.” “What were you doing there?” he pursued. This was getting out of hand. “I am supposed to ask you questions,” I said desperately. “Then why don’t you ask them?” he said coolly.<br /><br />Suddenly, he started talking. He remembered his own undergraduate days in Maharaja’s College in Mysuru. He mentioned his teachers, one by one , and his classmates. including two other talented brothers, M V Rajagopal and M V Krishnaswamy. And, of course, the dear old city of Mysore which had inspired his best novels.<br /><br />“I loved sitting near the Kukkanahalli kere (lake) and watch the sun set.” he reminisced. That reminded him of his father who had by then concluded that his son was a failure. He had already quit one job as school teacher in Chennapatna and spent his days loafing around the town. There was no money and he refused to apply for the post of Amildar in the Revenue department.<br /><br />RKN remembered his father’s despair when he told him he wanted to be a writ-er. “There is no money in that professi-on,” cried an aghast parent. True, he was paid a pittance for writing a column in a small newspaper and roamed the market place for his inspiration with “just a betel nut in my pocket and nothing else to eat.”<br /><br />His younger brother, Laxman, ran to the newspaper office every evening carrying the precious column. His initial break came with the publication of “Swamy and Friends” when he happily placed the first copy in his father’s paralysed hand. “It was too late” he sighed. “My father was not aware of anything.”<br /><br />When he invited me to see his study, I saw the blue print of the Yadavagiri mansion. “That was the house I built,” said an exuberant RKN. “Look at this study with all those large windows. There were hundreds of books...”<br /><br />When I asked him if he was going back, he choked back his unshed tears. RK Narayan will surely feel happy now that many others will do so.</p>
