The first time I met him was in the early ninetees,
when I had just joined The Indian Express as a trainee. A dispute
was then brewing between Karnataka and Tamil Nadu Governments over the sharing
of Cauvery river water, leading to a tense atmosphere in both the States.
However, when Karnataka released the water to Tamil
Nadu ignoring strong local sentiments, Bangalore went up in flames. Many lost
their lives in the riots, while property worth crores was destroyed.
The Governor decided to see for himself the havoc,
along with a media team. Bangalore resembled a war-ravaged city. Buildings were reduced to ashes, while burning cars
were strewn all across the roads.
As the people narrated their harrowing experiences,
the Governor tried to hold back his tears. Governors those days, rarely
addressed the media, but so disturbed was Khan, that in a departure from
convention, he convened a press conference to express his anguish.
That was the
first time I had entered the portals of the Raj Bhavan. The British hangover
was still palpable. As we waited in the Banquet Hall, sipping tea served in
cups with engravings of the national emblem, Khan’s Aide-de-Camp (ADC) appeared
at the ornate doors and announced in a booming voice: “His Excellency, the
Governor of Karnataka.” It was like a king being ushered into the royal durbar.
We were expected to stand up as a mark of respect. As
young hot-blooded journalists with
contempt for the political order, most of us remained seated.
In the days that
passed, it dawned on me that Khan was not like other politicians. He was a class
apart. His simplicity and Gandhian ways were striking. That was when I decided
that this gentleman was definitely worthy of respect.
Khan’s first
task after he took over as the Governor was to set his own house in order. The
Raj Bhavan true to the colour of its building has always been regarded as a
white elephant. But during Khan’s regime frugality became a way of life.
Expensive imported liquor and custom made cigarettes, supplied to Raj Bhavan at
Government expense were the first to be banned.
The Governor
then turned his attention to his officers who until then had a free run of Raj
Bhavan. Resident officers who enjoyed free electricity and telephone facility
were told to pay their own bills, while the rampant misuse of Government
vehicles was curbed.
The Governor did not spare himself either. Every month, he raised a bill for the food
that he consumed from the Raj Bhavan kitchen, and paid the amount to the
Government.
Raj Bhavans are usually a haven for free-loaders, with some senior politicians
and their minions often treating it as their personal guest house. But Khan did
not even spare VIPs who overstayed without a valid reason. The first day, a
sumptuous meal would be served but with each passing day, the Governor would
cut a dish from the menu, until the unwelcome guest got the message and left.
While it is common for Raj Bhavans to over-shoot the
sizeable budget allotted to them, during Khan’s period he actually saved a
substantial sum and returned it to the Government.
The last time I met him personally was to invite him
for a function organised by the Times of
India. I was ushered into his chamber ceremonially with the ADC standing at
attention, announcing, “Mr Gautham
Machaiah, from The Times of India, to see you sir.”
The Governor was in a contemplative
mood. The increasing corruption and declining moral values had left him
worried. “What is happening to our country?” he bemoaned and fell silent. There
was no need for him to say anything more. The pain in his eyes said it all.
(Picture sourced from: www.ddinews.gov.in)
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