Goodbye, Mr Krishna

S M Krishna, who decorated many elective as well as political positions, was first and last an exemplary human being. If he wished to help someone who approached him and did not want an official or assistant to intrude, he could dismiss the imposter with just a glance, a stern word, or a wry smile.

At Krishna’s funeral in his native village, Somanahalli, in Mandya, Karnataka’s Deputy Chief Minister D K Shivakumar bent low, placed his forehead at the foot of the coffin in total submission, and shed a tear. The credit for taming DKS from a feisty Zilla Panchayat member to a more amenable legislator goes to Krishna. As Speaker of the Karnataka Legislative Assembly, Krishna only had to call out “Shivakumar” in a stern voice, and DKS would quietly retreat to his seat. DKS had free access to Krishna’s home, like a son the latter never had.

That was a rare privilege, indeed, as the suave statesman was never one to mingle freely. He kept his professional and personal life clearly demarcated, though his wife, Premakka, as she was popularly known, was an unobtrusive presence always. The only time I remember her photo being flashed across media channels and newspapers was when she brandished a broom as part of a cleanliness drive. 

Though Krishna’s foreign education was touted by critics to brand him an elitist, he was as much a “mannina maga” (son of the soil) as any other “mandyadha gandu” (mandya’s scion). Hailing from an agrarian background, he was fully conversant with rural customs and traditions. He once enlightened journalists about the practice of “hecchali.” Whenever grain was measured for sale or to be given as wages to labourers, a handful was always put back into the granary, saying “hecchali,” meaning “may the stocks increase”. I have followed that custom ever since in the hope that my finite kitchen stocks may multiply. 

Krishna earned the title ‘gentleman’ politician with his unwavering civility code. When Kannada film thespian Rajkumar was kidnapped by brigand Veerappan and kept captive in the Sathyamangala forests, Krishna, as chief minister, visited Rajkumar’s wife Parvathamma in her Bengaluru home. A tight security ring was thrown around the house by jurisdictional police led by officer K N Jithendranath.

A colleague and I, representing The Printers (Mysore) group publications Deccan Herald and Prajavani, managed to gain entry with due permission. Inside, an All India Radio team was recording an appeal by the chief minister to the brigand to free Rajkumar.Radio was the only line of communication with the fugitive. Krishna began his appeal with “Veerappanavare...” and continued on a polite note. We were flabbergast. A head of state negotiating with an outlaw? Not acceptable. But that was Krishna’s inborn style. He could be incisive but would never trespass civility. 

After the actor’s release, retired DGP-IGP C Dinakar wrote a book titled Veerappan’s Prize Catch Rajkumar, chronicling the kidnap and its aftermath. Only Deccan Herald and The Times of India got a copy each, late in the evening. The police ex-chief, who had promised to “tell all,” feared a government ban on his book and made sure no other copy was available. Around midnight, we got a request from CM’s office to share the book, as any government is duty bound to safeguard public order. DH did not oblige as our source had requested confidentiality. Krishna respected the “gentleman’s agreement” and did not pursue the matter.

Notwithstanding his nonpartisan outlook, Krishna was reluctant to appoint a non-Karnataka officer to the post of Principal Chief Conservator of Forests, which had fallen vacant. When questioned, he retorted, “How long should we neglect the interests of state officers?” But when the seniormost officer, Shobhnath Rai, moved court on the basis of a Deccan Herald report questioning the CM’s stand and got a favourable verdict, Krishna appointed him PCCF without any qualms.

Father to two daughters—Maalavika and Shambhavi—Krishna made the welfare of the girl child and women his government’s priority. Much later, as Governor of Maharashtra, Krishna refused to promulgate an ordinance seeking to ban dance bars in Mumbai. The instant closure of the 700-odd dance bars across Mumbai at the time would hit the livelihood of thousands of dance girls coming from abject poverty, was his concern. He asked the government to move a bill in the legislature instead and pass a law after due discussion, ensuring the interests of all parties concerned. 

In December 2022, Krishna graciously accepted the request of his one-time ministerial colleague Nafees Fazal to release her biography even though he had just recovered from illness. Reminiscing about how he dropped Fazal from his ministry on the basis of an allegation that she was “dancing” at a party, the former chief minister openly regretted his impulsive action: “I should not have punished my minister without giving her a chance to speak,” confessed Krishna, winning resounding applause from the guests.