RECOLLECTIONS OF A COMMUNICATOR, Remembering Jawaharlal Nehru (Article)

New Delhi, Nov. 14 (ANI):Many of my generation have fond memories of India's first Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru. Much has been written about his contribution to the freedom struggle, his role as the first Prime Minister of India, and how he propounded non-alignment and emerged as a world leader. But many of us who had the chance to meet him still recall the warmth he effused toward all human beings whom he came across.

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The first time I came across him was in Delhi during the autumn of 1955. I was around the Parliament House during my tour of the Capital. I saw a banner in the Parliament that there was a discussion under the Bureau of Parliamentary Studies on the Indian Constitution. As someone who had just then answered a paper in Constitutional Law for LL.B. and Constitutional History for M.A. at Bombay University, I felt that I should hear the discussions. I went into the Parliament House. Those days, there was no need for passes to enter the Parliament building. Passes were necessary only to enter the Lok Sabha or the Rajya Sabha.

In one of the rooms, around a hundred people had gathered, most of them elderly and looked like Members of Parliament. Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru was talking to them and he was elaborating on the Indian Constitution and dwelt on the role of the Parliament and the responsibilities of legislators. After his speech, there was a brief interval and participants came out for tea on the lawns outside the Central Hall.

I was overwhelmed to notice that Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru came near the table where I just picking up a mug of tea. He saw me in a crowd of elders. I was barely 21-years-old then. He asked me, I guess you are a student, did you find the discussion interesting? I replied, Sir, I have just finished law and M.A. and found the speeches absorbing. What are your views, young man, he asked again. I took the courage to say that the Indian Constitution should have been more unitary in character than federal, and there was a danger to the unity of the country with the demands for reorganization of States gaining momentum He smiled, patted me and told me to keep my interest alive in Parliamentary Democracy.

It was too overwhelming for me to be in the presence of Panditji, a charismatic leader, and be spoken to by him.

Soon after, I joined the Press Information Bureau. I was one of a handful of young persons recruited to the PIB and seniors used to bestow a great deal of care and affection on us. I befriended the Information Officer for Press Facilities, and he used to be kind enough to put me on duty at functions like the monthly press conferences of the Prime Minister. My duty was to receive editors and senior correspondents and generally to be seen busy. Jawaharlal Nehru's press conferences were never limited to being question and answer sessions. The correspondents came to hear the Prime Minister on matters of national importance - on colonialism, India's relations with neighbours, and issues like planning.

The Prime Minister's answers to questions sought to educate the correspondents and the people through the newspapers. Some journalists would try to provoke Panditji and one waited to hear his response - 'what fantastic nonsense' to be followed by a detailed answer to the question.

A couple of years later, I was transferred to the Ministry of Defence. I used to look forward to the Independence Day and the Republic Day celebrations. On August 15, I used to be put on duty on the ramparts of the Red Fort to help photographers to cover the Prime Minister addressing the nation. It was a grand spectacle, watching from near the saluting base, the vast crowd from Jama Masjid in the left, Chandni Chowk in front to the road leading to Kashmere Gate on the right-- listening to the Prime Minister with rapt attention.

During Republic Day celebrations, I used be on duty at the Teen Murti House -- the Prime Minister's residence -- to cover the visit of folk dancers. Panditji would spend time with each group, wear their headgears, talk to them and dance with them. He followed the footsteps of each group naturally and the spontaneity with which he participated was to be seen to be believed. If he floated gracefully with the Manipuris, he could dance with zest with the Nagas and match the boisterousness of of Bhangra dancers from Punjab .

I was allowed to operate the Rolliflex camera by the Defence Photo studio, I used to get tips on how to get a good picture from Satakopan, who used to send pictures to the Associated Press. One of my pictures got selected for release and I was complimented for its quality.

In the fifties, one of the important events organized by the Army was the Annual Horse Show at the Red Fort. I was given the task of covering the Army Horse Show. The Delhi newspapers gave a lot of space for the Horse Show, particularly the Statesman - which was the favourite newspaper of the Army top brass then . It did not take me long to learn the language of the cavalrymen - and I used to file detailed reports on show jumping, tent pegging and the deliberation of the judges on the quality of the horses. I became a favourite of the Statesman Sports Editor, Cyril Flory.

Generally the Chief of the Army Staff or the Quartermaster General would distribute prizes at the concluding function. The year I was detailed to cover the Horse Show, 1959 if I remember correctly, it was decided that Prime Minister would present a woolen drape to the best Horse of the show - Prithviraj. The presentation was to be made at Teen Murti House at 6. P.M. and Prithviraj was to be escorted there. The Horse was to be formally 'inspected' by the Prime Minister at the presentation ceremony. .

I had gone to the Teen Murti House half an hour earlier and was standing at the porch. The official photographer too had not come. I saw the Prime Minister's Buick approaching the porch. Panditji got down from the car, saw me standing at a distance, and asked me why was I there. I said sir, I have come to cover the presentation ceremony of the woolen drape to the best horse of the Horse Show, Prithviraj. He said, yes, yes, where is the horse, let's go. I replied, Sir, General Kaul will be here when the horse is shown to you. Panditji laughed and said, Oh you have formalities in the Army. Alright, I will wait.

Meanwhile, to my utter surprise, he said come in. What is your name, he asked. He called me by my name and made me sit down in the sofa set in the portico of the Teen Murti, called the bearer and asked him to get some tea. He then said, by the time the tea comes, I will quickly have a wash and come. Make yourself comfortable. .

He returned in five minutes or so, by which time General B.N. Kaul came and took Panditji to the porch and showed him Prithviraj. The presentation of the blanket over, all of us rushed to file the story and release the photographs.

I narrated in detail to my colleagues and seniors how I had the privilege of being offered a cup of tea by Panditji himself at the Prime Minister's House. When I look back, I wonder which young officer will have the privilege of being asked by the Prime Minister to come into the house and made to sit down an offered a cup of tea. No wonder Panditji endeared himself to everyone who came into contact with him.

The next time I saw Panditji was soon after the Chinese Aggression. The venue was the National Stadium, and the occasion was the concert by Lata Mangeshkar in memory of the jawans who lost their lives in the battles. We still hum the song: " Aye Mere Vatan Ki Logo, Zara Aank me Bhar do Pani. Jo Shaheed Hua Hai Unko Zara Yaad Karo Qurbani". The music director was C. Ramchandra. There was not one eye which was not moist. I saw Panditji wipe his eyes repeatedly during the concert. Panditji walked slowly, unlike his former self. Someone, who always looked young, suddenly had aged.

The last I saw Panditji-rather his body -- was when he had just passed away. I had come from Srinagar, where I was then posted. I was put on duty to conduct the photographers covering the last journey of the Prime Minister from Teen Murti House to the banks of the Yamuna on May 27, 1964.

The photographers were taken in improvised three-ton trucks. The road from Teen Murti House to Shantivan, was packed almost fifty deep on either side, with people wanting to have a last glimpse of their beloved Prime Minister. It was a hot summer. A colleague of mine had cautioned me to take plenty of water in the trucks. The journey from Teen Murti to the banks of the Yamuna took more than four hours.

As a communicator, I had the opportunity of witnessing the last journeys of Jawaharlal, Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi, in different capacities. There would never be another Prime Minister as endearing as Jawaharlal, and no one who spoke, wrote and interacted in as transparent a manner as Panditji.

I wonder how many who participate in Childrens' Day function this year will have an idea of the personality of India's first Prime Minister, Chacha Nehru.

I.Ramamohan Rao (Former Principal Information Officer, Government of India)

e-mail: raoramamohan@hotmail.com By I. Ramamohan Rao(ANI)