FEW politicians from Bengal cut as dignified a figure as Jyoti Basu. Though he often appeared aloof and intimidating in public, behind that tough and cold exterior was a soft heart and a civilised mind governed by concern for others. This reporter, following the leader on his campaign trail, caught up with him at a guest house on one occasion. Jyoti Basu, who was eating his lunch, was informed of a reporter waiting outside. The gentleman who took the message to him came out and said: Jyoti Basu is enquiring whether you had your lunch. It was small gestures such as this that betrayed the human side of the formidable statesman.
Jyoti Basu was the undisputed patriarch of the CPI(M). Though he never claimed to be above the party, he nevertheless practically defined the image of the West Bengal unit of the CPI(M). He set the standards of conduct and dignity and expected the same of his comrades. Urbane and sophisticated, clad in spotless white dhoti and kurta which he himself washed as long as his health permitted with a slender pen attached to the front pocket of the kurta, he was one of the quintessential Bengali bhadralok (gentlemen). In fact, his long-time friend and political rival and former Congress Chief Minister of the State, Siddhartha Shankar Ray, jocularly, yet affectionately, called him the sahib in a dhoti.
Yet, behind that impenetrable and grave visage lay a wry sense of humour. On his 89th birthday in 2003, Jyoti Basu was presented with a life-size wax figure of himself at Indira Bhavan, his residence in Salt Lake, Kolkata. Feigning surprise upon seeing it, he said, Well, he looks like me, drawing laughter from well-wishers who had assembled outside the house as they did every year on his birthday. He then went up to the statue, took the pen out of his pocket, clipped it to the pocket of the kurta on the statue, and, turning to its delighted creator Sushanto Roy, said, Now, it looks complete.
He was gentle in his dealings with people, particularly those in distress. Pradip Bandyopadhyay, who had been his telephone operator from 1981 right until his last days, recalled that Jyoti Basu would always take calls irrespective of who the caller was. But on those rare occasions when he could not answer the phone, we had standing instructions not to be brusque with the callers but to be as helpful as possible, and, if we could, put them in touch with the right person.
The relationship between Jyoti Basu and the staff at his residence was intimate. He was like an oak tree under whose protective shadow we existed. He would never show any irritation with us even when we were at fault and would always enquire after our families and look into our problems. Hundreds of people would come to see him every day and many would bring expensive gifts like Kashmiri shawls. He would always distribute those gifts among us. We feel absolutely lost now, Bandyopadhyay told Frontline.
But Jyoti Basu was also as tough and fearless as he looked. His was a fortitude governed by a profound practical intelligence. In February 1954, during the historic Teachers Agitation, a mass rally was planned on the Assembly premises on February 16. Top communist leaders spearheading the movement were arrested on the orders of the then Congress government.
When the police went to arrest him at his Hindustan Park residence, he was not present there. He had realised that it would serve no purpose if he got himself arrested; he was needed on the floor of the Assembly to project the atrocities committed against the agitating teachers. He apprised available party members of his decision and devised an audacious plan to enter the Assembly without getting arrested. The Assembly was surrounded by armed police and detectives. Jyoti Basu alighted from his car at the main gate itself and strode in confidently. The plainclothesmen did not even imagine that I would dare walk into the Assembly like that; if they had been a little more alert, I would have been arrested, he later wrote in his memoirs.
Unable to arrest a legislator during the Assembly proceedings, the police waited outside to catch him when he left the premises. Aware of this, he sought the Speakers permission to remain inside the Assembly premises for a few days as, he explained, the Budget session was in progress and as a legislator he was expected to perform his duty towards his constituency and the public. The Speaker agreed, and for a week he stayed inside the Assembly, during which time his family and comrades provided him with food and change of clothes. All the while the police remained stationed outside. After the discussions on the Budget were over, and his work was done, he came out of the Assembly to court arrest.
The unflappable temperament and the indomitable courage of the man in the face of physical danger is best illustrated during a police riot in 1969 when the second United Front government was in power. Jyoti Basu was the Deputy Chief Minister with the charge of General Administration and Home, including police affairs. A large group of policemen went on the rampage following the death of a colleague in a clash with the supporters of the Socialist Unity Centre of India (SUCI). They entered the lobby of the Assembly and staged a violent demonstration and vandalised the place, raising slogans such as Dismiss the Front government and Hang Jyoti Basu. He was in his chamber when the mob tried to break into it.
As the policemen scuffled with the guards outside, Jyoti Basu asked them to be let in. Let us see what they want and to what extent they can go, he said. As they stormed in, one of them snatched a flower vase and hurled it against the wall, shattering it. Unperturbed, Jyoti Basu remained in his chair. The violent policemen did not expect this and lost their nerves. What is the meaning of such hooliganism? he thundered at them. Is this any way to show respect to the dead? Why have you barged inside? What will you do if your weapons are seized? Get out of my chamber!
Overawed by his personality, they left the chamber immediately.
Another example of his nerve could be seen in his attitude after an assassination attempt on him in 1970. He had gone to Patna on party work. As he stepped out of the station with thousands of supporters surrounding him, someone opened fire from close range. The bullet grazed his finger before killing the man standing behind him. The victim was Ali Imam, a party supporter who had come to receive him at the station.
Where a lesser man would have taken precautions after such an incident, Jyoti Basu, that very evening, addressed a rally in the city. He went to Ali Imams residence and consoled his orphaned children. As the news of the attempt on his life reached Kolkata, normal life came to a standstill as people took to the streets and offices and shops closed down.
Forty years later, the people of West Bengal demonstrated that their love for the man had not diminished even a little. An entire new generation took to the streets alongside their elders to say their last goodbyes to the man whose presence in their lives was so intimate. Dibakar Nath, a 60-year-old paraplegic, and his young son had come from the northern end of the city to the Assembly House where Jyoti Basus body was kept. It was impossible for Dibakar to get on a bus in his wheelchair. So his son pushed the wheelchair for several kilometres to reach their destination.
I couldnt let my disability stop me from seeing him for one last time, Dibakar said , while his son looked on smiling. He was only seven years old when Jyoti Basu stepped down from chief ministership. I had never seen him in real life, but I know so much about him from my father that I wanted to see him though he is dead.
Suhrid Sankar Chattopadhyay
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