A leader to remember: My encounter with Oommen Chandy

His visits to the Capital were fleeting, and only if unavoidable, just to meet the Congress top brass or Union ministers. Unlike contemporary Congress leaders K Karunakaran and A K Antony, who had their stint in national politics, Chandy was happier being in the state, where he could always be found surrounded by party workers or people, conversing with them in Malayalam.

When he was home in his village Puthuppally, he made sure he was available to his constituents – his days stretching from 4 am one day to 1 am the next.

Even his official room in the Secretariat was always teeming with people. A businessman once said: “You cannot discuss anything confidential with Chandy. Once I entered his room and saw Youth Congress workers all around. The Chief Minister was found talking on the phone near the toilet door,”

One meeting with Chandy has especially stayed with me. During the 2016 election campaign, he was the incumbent CM and I wanted to interview him. His press secretary P T Chacko, who happened to be my senior in my first job at a newspaper, Deepika, suggested that I wind up my reporting in Thiruvananthapuram and take a ride with him to Puthupally. It was a journey of more than two hours, giving me enough time, Chacko assured.

I reached Cliff House, the Kerala CM’s official residence, with a friend from Delhi, who also wanted to try her luck for a meeting with the CM. It was early in the morning, and the security at the gate let us in without asking a single question. When we entered, a few people were already there, holding a memorandum.

Chandy arrived in his usual starched, spotless white Khadi shirt and mundu and started talking to them one by one. For a moment I thought he did not recognise me, but he turned and asked me if I came alone from Delhi. I heaved a sigh of relief that I did not have to take the trouble of introducing myself before the long ride with him.

He asked his aides to keep our suitcases inside his Innova car. The boot was packed with household stuff the CM was taking home to Puthupally, with some packets also occupying the back seat. Seated next to Chandy, I interviewed him, and then my friend asked him questions. He wanted to talk about everything, family, Delhi life, media, national politics.

When the car reached Chenganassery, the CM asked: “Do you mind me paying a visit to Sukumaran Nair (the president of the Nair Service Society or NSS, an influential organisation). Would you get late?” It was election time, and Chandy had to ensure Nair community support to the Congress-led United Democratic Front. Although I was embarrassed at his courtesy, the journalist in me wanted to make use of the opportunity. I told him I was also trying to get a meeting with Nair. “Then you come with me, I will help you meet him,” Chandy said.

With Nair in a meeting, Chandy was asked to wait. The CM waited quietly for almost 10 minutes before the community leader arrived and both had a brief conversation inside Nair’s room. When the two of them emerged, Chandy said: “Liz, you wanted an interview with him, no? Go and do it now. I will wait here.”

Stunned, I told him I would talk to Nair over the phone. Chandy then asked Nair to give his personal number and made him promise that he would take the call. (Nair did keep his word and I did that interview on the phone for The Indian Express.)

Back on the road again, Chandy made a five-minute halt to meet an ailing Congress leader. A local Congress leader, close to Chandy, asked if he could get a ride, and Chandy agreed, but only if he could find space in the already packed car. That was a scene I will never forget – the CM of a state squeezed in a seat in his official car!

There are others who have similar stories like me, stories of Chandy’s humility, his generosity, which never became public because Chandy preferred it that way. If someone asked him about these stories, he would just smile that big smile.