Remembering V. K. Madhavan Kutty, 71, d.1.11. 2005

William Robertson joined the British Army as a private, and went on to become a Field Marshal and Chief of Staff. My friend V. K. Madhavan Kutty, who passed away on Tuesday, had made the same journey in the journalistic arena. He joined the Malayalam daily Mathrubhumi half a century ago as a stringer; when he retired he was the Editor.

But there was far, far more to my old friend than the sheer longevity of his career, which extended over 53 years. How many people today - in any profession, not just journalists - could envision working for a single organisation, and that too from a single city? In those long years he went well beyond trying to report events in Delhi to his readers in distant Kerala, even a journalistic stripling might do that (if not as well as he did). He went beyond interpreting the 'Why' that lay beyond the 'What' in Delhi (as some of us claim to do, though again not always with his touch).

No, where he went well beyond any call of duty was in trying, in some small measure, to introduce Kerala to Delhi. Through an extensive network of friends and colleagues, and even through writing in the local media when need be, Madhavan Kutty did his best to make Delhiites aware that there are places beyond the charmed circle enclosed by Ring Road. And I know of at least two gentlemen from Kerala, both tried and tested on the global scale, who made use of his wisdom when they felt the need at last to know their own home state a little better.

V.K. Krishna Menon and K. R. Narayanan were urbane men of the world when the time came for them to join the hurly-burly of parliamentary life. But when Krishna Menon was left bereft by the death of Pandit Nehru and when Narayanan finally left the comforts of a diplomat's life, both turned to Madhavan Kutty as a sure guide through the whirlpool of Kerala's politics. How many people remember today that it was he who took Narayanan to Karunakaran, then the pillar of the Congress in Kerala? (It was originally suggested that Narayanan join the Rajya Sabha; Karunakaran offered Ottapalam instead, a Left Front bastion, and the rest is history). K. R. Narayanan never forgot what he owed Madhavan Kutty. In 1998, when Madhavan Kutty suffered a heart-attack, Narayanan, who was then President of India, was by his hospital bed.

Those were tumultuous days in Indian politics- Jayalalithaa had brought down the Atal Behari Vajpayee ministry, and strenuous efforts were on to form an alternative. "Don't worry!" the President joked to his ailing friend, "There is no question of dissolving the House until you are well enough to report the news!" He was just trying to make Madhavan Kutty smile, but it proved to be prophetic. His discharge went hand-in-hand with the dissolution of the Lok Sabha.

As part of his self-appointed task of introducing Kerala to Delhi and Delhi to Kerala, Madhavan Kutty was the chaperon -often the host as well - to scores of visitors. Whether K. C. Abraham or Vailoppilli Sreedhara Menon, it was taken for granted that you would find them at his house. Have I given you the impression that Madhavan Kutty rose to the heights of the editor's chair simply because of his talent for making friends? If so, that is wrong. He was a thorough professional when it came to work, devoted to his job in a manner that few can imagine today. In those days, there were no professional training courses for budding journalists, and it did not really pay well.

Madhavan Kutty began his long innings by living in a single room of a house belonging to a distant relative who was a bureaucrat. He would travel to work on a bicycle. But nothing could tempt him away from journalism, and Madhavan Kutty had a passion for it. As a friend and a competitor, I used to joke that I could beat him to a story from Delhi only when he was asleep! And I never even bothered trying to keep pace with all his literary and cultural hobbies. Somehow, in between all his other occupations, he found the time to write several books, including two novels. Of late, I used to find him a touch impatient - with himself, not others.

While he had been laid up earlier - the God of Accidents, he used to joke, was his co-passenger! - he fretted over the hospital visits dictated by age. He would have hated the shackles that time and illness put on his body. I cannot imagine him settling down contentedly in retirement. The continuous whirl of activity, of writing his opinions, of meeting people - he would have missed it all.

Just as much we journalists and politicians in Delhi miss you today, old friend, just as much as all of Kerala misses you.

Courtesy: The Indian Express, November 04, 2005