Where the Common Man still stands

With one stroke of his pencil, R K Laxman (RKL, for short) could achieve what a hundred words could seldom accomplish. His caricatures of the world and its affairs, seen through the observant eyes of the 'Common Man’ made him the past master of socio-political satire. 

It is common to erect statues to perpetuate the memory of someone who lived in flesh and blood. But not so for an imaginary character. Pune has one for the Common Man—an uncommon tribute to RKL’s fecundity.

Any avid follower of RKL’s caricatures has many to remember. If I were to recollect one at random, it would be the one that appeared immediately after the death of Dr Salim Ali, our revered ornithologist. RKL drew a bird perched on a treetop, looking down at Dr Ali standing below, binoculars dangling from his neck. The caricature was so sharp that the curiosity in the bird's eyes seemed to ask, "Who is this man taking such an interest in me?" It outdid Dr Salim Ali’s own scientific inquisitiveness – this time, in the bird.

RKL was a good writer too. I distinctly remember reading an article he wrote in The Illustrated Weekly of India in the early 1980s, recounting how he became a caricaturist – almost unintentionally. What follows is a paraphrase.

During his childhood in Mysuru, his parents subscribed to several newspapers and magazines, which lay on a table in the veranda. A neighbour – a retired government employee – would visit every morning at a fixed hour to read and quietly leave after reading.  

One day, little RKL came across a picture of a goat in a magazine that fired his imagination. In a fit of childish pranks, he drew a pair of spectacles on the goat's face and left the magazine on the table before going to school.

At the appointed hour, the old man stepped in. Everything seemed normal, calm and quiet --until he exploded like a volcano, shouting and drawing the elders into the veranda. He berated them for not bringing up their children with propriety, hurled the magazine to the floor, and stormed off, swearing never ever to step into the veranda ever again. 

Everyone was aghast. An uneasy air filled the veranda. Why was he angry? Nobody knew. Little RKL, summoning some pluck, picked up the magazine. To everyone’s astonishment, the goat with spectacles bore a striking resemblance to the old man. Serendipity – if this is not it, what else could it be?

He ended the article with these words: “Thus I stumbled across the key to caricature, unintentionally.” It was a defining moment – the future RKL was in the making.

In the English common law tradition we share, there is an attractive personality called the “Ordinary Reasonable Man”. Where do we find him? Not essentially on the streets of London, but very much so in our home-spun Common Man.  

It is fitting to remember R K Laxman today, 11 years after he passed away on January 26, 2015.