That impish smile

Even in the best of times and in the best of democratic circumstances, the love he had for both worlds remained intense. It was here that Nayanar made the big difference. He showed us, as few others did, that we could fight a class war and, at the end of it, part as friends — without guilt, guile, and, yes, without vengeance. We need to thank him for that message.

Nayanar was no simpleton. We knew this as much as any of his senior party colleagues. He was that ultimate contradiction: Shrewd as well as sweet. And never sour. Not once, over two decades — across a table, in front of a mike or on camera — did he let his anger turn his impish smile into a threatening scowl. He was just too decent to do that, too much of the quintessential Nayanar to appear irascible.

He was also every bit the proper communist. He savoured the political gossip that we journalists brought to him, but never shared with us a single secret of the party or government. He managed this by talking incessantly about himself so that we tended to ask him less about the party and the government. Good tactics. But at least he gracefully granted that often we already knew some of those well-kept secrets!

And, as we take leave of him, we have to be grateful for those little gems, crafted in his very own English, naughty slips of the tongue, that he imparted at every charming encounter. Your travel yarn about the breathtaking frequency of rape in the capitalist wild West is part of local folklore now.

And, lastly, we need to thank him for those lasting images. That bewildered look on his cherubic face as a stern and dutiful comrade catches you red-handed stealing a forbidden puff of smoke during the Kaliassery campaign trail or the stealthy move at the Kovalam dinner table for a second helping of that forbidden coconut sweet pudding while his guardian angel, Sarada, happened to be looking the other way.

Now we know that big difference he made to our mundane lives. He lent it that human touch. And for that he deserves our gratitude. We will miss him.