She spelt charisma in every sense and enigma in every footstep. It was impossible not to be mesmerised in her presence. Despite her populist policies and affection for the downtrodden, Ms Jayalalithaa Jayaram exuded class. Although she rarely interacted in person with the so-called hoi-polloi, they adored her to distraction.
Covering the 1996 State Assembly elections in Tamil Nadu, I was guided to a roadside campaign meeting in Chennai (then still called Madras). I was accompanied by Nirupama Subramanian, my former colleague in many publications, whose presence helped to translate both the people’s feedback as also the Chief Minister’s speech. After keeping the milling crowd waiting for over two hours her customised Matador van inched its way to the centre point of the roadside gathering.
She was handed a microphone inside her air-conditioned vehicle which had loudspeakers fitted on the bonnet and roof. Without bothering to roll down the windows of her front row passenger seat, she waved to hysterical crowds cheering “Amma! Amma!” Then she picked up an index card from a box placed next to her seat and began to read out its contents. Nirupama whispered “Parrot card”. later I was told her critics had dubbed these parrot cards — an allusion to road side quack astrologers getting their pet parrots to pick up similar cards and read customers’ fortunes!
Amma delivered her speech in a flat monotone. As I had jostled my way close to her vehicle, I could count that she read out ten such cards, barely looking up from the prepared text. Then disappointing the crowds that wanted her to step out of the van, she breezed away, security personnel brusquely pushing fawning admirers aside. Before she streamed out, I managed a sneak peek of the interiors of the van which consisted of several dozen saris neatly arranged in hangers and a makeshift dressing room complete with a make-up kit and portable mirror.
She lost that election in 1996 something I had predicted in an article in this newspaper titled “Tarot card or parrot, Amma’s fortunes aren’t shining”. Her arch-rival DMK led by M Karunanidhi came to power and proceeded to torment her with an array of corruption cases that eventually saw her consigned to prison for a few months. Paradoxically, each time she was sent to jail, she returned stronger and more popular.
Tamil Nadu elections are fascinating for every journalist and student of Indian politics. A progressive and well-administered State from British times, it is also frightfully caste-riven, socially conservative and male-dominated. Not many outside Tamil Nadu were aware that Jayalalithaa was not a natïve Tamilian to begin with. She was a Hebbar Brahmin from Karnataka but came to lead a staunchly non-Brahmin, Dravidian political party.
While male film actors successfully forayed into politics, such as her mentor MG Ramachandran (incidentally a native Malayali), she was the first female star to gain acceptance as a mass leader. With MGR as her hero, both on and off the screen, Jayalalithaa acted in scores of movies which propelled her into the limelight — a position she retained even after MGR’s death in 1987. The limelight in fact shone brighter thereafter.
Many also do not remember she starred in a successful Hindi film Izzat co-starring Dharmendra. One of its songs, composed by laxmikant-Pyarelal, “Yeh dil tum bin kahin lagta nahin” is considered one of the most melodious romantic numbers of all time, while an item number “Jagi badan mein jwala” was also a big hit.
I recall this because in a report on a speech she once delivered in Hindi at a public rally in Uttar Pradesh, I had mentioned these numbers to point out she was a polyglot. One of her party MPs, Dr V Maitreyan sent me a fax copy of her written speech the next day saying Amma wanted me to see it because she had written it out in Devanagari script in her own hand!
There was another occasion, this time in 2001, when I went to cover the Assembly polls. Hearing she would visit the outskirts of Madurai to campaign for the controversial MDMK leader Vaiko, I reached the venue around 8 pm. She was due at 9 pm, but after waiting till midnight, even the crowds started to disperse, while Vaiko fretted up and down the stage. Their relations were hardly congenial and several ADMK politicians had warned me that she does not campaign for “people she does not like”. Vaiko evidently headed her “dislike” list.
But on my journey back to Madurai city’s Taj hotel, I was taken aback by the number of people lining both sides of the 15 km stretch, candles, petromax lamps and emergency battery lamps in hand. Many women had newborn children in their arms. I got down to enquire why they were tormenting the infants at this ungodly hour.
The reply was standard: “If Amma stops to bless the child and perhaps name it, the child would grow up to be successful”. Some added: “For us she is God and we are here to seek her Divine blessings.”
Our vehicle was flagged down every 100 metres or so, with anxious men and women querying if we were Amma’s advance party. On reaching the hotel, I found it had been taken over by security personnel although she was just an Opposition leader in the State at that time. Predictably, she did not attend Vaiko’s meeting. Anyway it was nearly 2 am and she had not returned to the hotel till then. Judging by the popular upsurge I had witnessed, I sat down with my typewriter at that hour and hammered out my impressions which I titled: “TN voters say ‘Jaya, Jaya Hey!’” This went completely against the grain of reporting in the rest of the print media (there were no private channels those days). Jayalalithaa recorded a landslide victory in that election.
I had the occasion to meet her face-to-face on only one memorable time. This was in 2005 when in response to a request for a meeting I was invited to her office at Fort St. George in Chennai. Fortunately, I had carried a silk shawl at the last minute, remembering it was customary. As soon as I was ushered into the VIP Waiting Room, a minion came up and aggressively queried: “GiftIJ Where giftIJ” I fumbled and handed the packet which was promptly sent for being X-Rayed.
After the exchange of pleasantries, I got tongue-tied, not a usual condition with me. To break the embarrassing silence in the room, I exaggerated to resume the conversation; “Madam, I think your Opposition, DMK, is imploding.” Further silence followed while I sat tremulously. Then she broke into a loud, hearty laugh. My abiding memory of our meeting was that uproarious laughter: “ImplodingIJ You said imploding…They have imploded…Ha, ha…Imploded!” More guffaws followed. Not sure what I was expected to do, I joined the laughter.
An engaging conversationalist, she spoke impeccable Convent English. Courteous despite her imperious persona, she stood up to say good-bye at the end of my allotted 15 minutes.
Covering my last election in Tamil Nadu in 2011, I came across her motorcade, with Amma addressing a throng of listeners at a Chennai square. Trying to get close to her car, I was met with a rude shove of a police lathi. As I loudly protested, I saw her looking in our direction. I folded my hands respectfully, not sure if she had even seen, leave alone recognised me.
To my utter surprise, she waved and smiled. Sheepishly, the cops vamoosed from my side. I reciprocated her wave even as she bestowed her beatific smile upon me. My knees felt weak as I left the venue. It was impossible not to be mesmerised by her. Not just Tamil Nadu but the whole of India will miss her for long. And I won’t ever forget her smile or hearty laughter.