After CPI(M)'s general secretary Sitaram Yechury's death, his uncle shares what it felt like to hear the news of Sitaram's birth and what followed afterwards.
Published Sep 14, 2024 | 4:00 PM ⚊ Updated Nov 26, 2024 | 2:35 PM
Sitaram Yechury during the Kerala government's protest in Delhi. (Supplied)
It was 12 August and the year was 1952. I was in Chennai, sitting in my/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 into the hospital, eager to say hello to my newborn nephew. I was then told that the new arrival to our family was born on ‘Rohini Nakshatram’ (a South Indian reference to stars based on a localised calendar) and on top of that, on the day of Krishnashtami.
It is a day that ‘God’ Krishna slayed his maternal uncle Kamsa according to our belief system. According to tradition, I had to wait until 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 in taking care of the baby and looked after him like a younger brother. I once dropped him on a slab of stone quite inadvertentl. Fortunately, his physical and intellectual faculties survived my carelessness.
Although separated in age by over seven years, we were brought up like siblings. My mother was so fond of him that I often felt pangs of jealousy. And Sitaram (who was named after his paternal grandfather) 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 at Delhi which 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 emergency 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 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 in India, he remained stoic in overcoming the grief following the tragic loss of his young son a few years ago. And he continued his ceaseless struggle for promoting the cause of the rapid growth and sustainable development of the country, till the end.
As a son, a grandson, sibling, husband, father, and, a grandfather, he was undefeated 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 recognised, and applauded, both within the country, and in many countries across 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, 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.
(The author is Mohan Kanda, IAS, who retired as Chief Secretary of undivided Andhra Pradesh. Edited by Neena)
