Chaudhary Devi Lal: The Apolitical Politician

 

Politicians are smart outwitters. They outwit we smaller fish in whatever we assume, presume or think. This chicken-hearted Indian feels like diving into a ditch every time the mighty caravan of an influential politician zooms on the road. Here was I coming on the road just occupying a foot on the road’s edge carrying my small self on a stiller smaller motor bike. And there he was coming, the Congress Chief Minister of Haryana, occupying 99 per cent of the road, carrying his large self in a still larger motorcade. Black hooded commandoes in open escort jeeps in the front found my one foot encroachment on the road too risky for the Honoured Lion King in the state. So they brandished their weapons, ordering me to abandon my encroachment on the road. Boss, it was scary. I would have straightaway jumped into a ditch to clear the way if not for this big acacia foliage to my left. So there I tucked up, like a dog holding its tail down, thorny acacia branches crowning my dispossessed head as the common man, in utter submission, still guilty that I could not clear the road completely. Meanwhile, the motorcade zoomed past with God knows how many departments ranging from security, police, hospital, fire service, cranes, and endless trail of hyenas who survive on the bones thrown by the Lion after his masterful catches.

 

Brothers and sisters, I am too common a man, and thus get jittery when I come across a typical politician with his predatory aura. I just cannot manage to stand anywhere around the place where a politician stamps his authority by gracing the earth with his footfall. My fear of the political class would have been unbreakable and unsurpassable if not for some comforting images from childhood drawing me near a huge white dhoti kurta clad patronising figure. A politician, but an apolitical one. A figure who was into politics, who thundered affably from political stages, but never appeared daunting and intimidating to the masses. This figure still holds me back from dispensing whole of the political class as predatory sharks. It is the maker of modern Haryana, Ch. Devi Lal – our Tauji – the Jan Nayak; the spirited non-conformist against the shadowy overtures of lopsided development at the cost of countryside; the man crowned with the unadulterated halo of farmers' interests. My liking for him is not borne of any political favour directly indirectly to anybody in my or even extended family across a few generations. Just that he did not make us feel intimidated. Simple. He towered over the surroundings, but appeared looking down with supportive gaze, not the typical hawkish gaze of a politician, prying into your eyes with nefarious motives, or just looking at you simply as a faceless, identityless another vote.

 

The basic proof of his apolitical approach is his saying ‘no’ to the most coveted political seat in the country, the prime ministership. The third front had chosen him to be the leader, but selflessly realising his worth as a farmer leader, he chose to be the agriculture minister and chose V P Singh for the highest post. It clearly proves that ambition, the famous bug biting the politicians, had not been successful in biting him, thus leaving him apolitically humane.

 

It is a matter of pleasure and pride to write something positive about somebody from the contemporary politics in modern India. I feel it is a Godly intercession in my little literary journey that I have been provided the opportunity to hitch my tiny literary cart to the strong and swift horses of his legacy to get some moments of positive thoughts about politics and politicians. There is voluminous testimony to the impressiveness of Ch. Devi Lal's calmly commanding personality. And if a son of Haryana – the karmabhoomi of the farmers' messiah – entails himself to the fag end of Tauji's enormously elderly aura and legacy, it should be forgiven and appreciated. We have our inexplicable extremes of likes and dislikes. From the glimpses of my childhood when Haryana was all about agriculture, villages, struggling farmers and buffalos, all I muster up is genuine appreciation for this son of the soil.

 

The Jan Nayak's overriding benevolence shining through the rack and ruin of time beckons to the time when we ran after some lone vehicle plying on the dusty road, loudspeaker blaring and we children competing with each other to get some election campaign leaflet. The leaflet, the printed words and the symbol on low quality mossy colour paper appeared more charming than any toy to the countryside lampoons. It was a small world. The leaflet and the persona too big. Now when my mature brain cudgels up memories of this unblemished character and analyse his works for the country's downtrodden, those childhood luminous memories become firmly fadeless. Lustrous whirls of the extravagant green decorated so proudly in the agricultural fabric of this country will continue to inspire generations to come. His work, worry and weariness for the cause of rural India make him outstandingly standout amongst the rag-tag parliamentary disorder.

 

The old age pension, the small offering to the elderly and the neglected as a token, as a salute for their life-long struggles and sacrifices. When a frail hand, not able to earn anymore, not having any supportive hand to hold it, pockets a few hundred rupees as the old age pension, it appears miraculous support to the fragile body, more supportive than any kith or kin. This humane touch from Ch. Devi Lal’s caring heart, this spin off of his sympathising self, today serves as a lifeline to the millions of neglected elders in India in the form of old age pension scheme.

 

Despite achieving so much at the highest level of Indian politics, he was uncommonly sobered; his simple, stout spirit, merry and mellow elderly aura made him immensely approachable to the people from the lowest rung of life. Where else would you find a Chief Minister, who dropped in by a poor hutment and heartily enjoyed the frugals offered like he had been served with the choicest delicacies from the costliest restaurant? Every settlement in Haryana happily cradles scores of such sweet memories. He would arrive at the scene mired in heartbreaks and dejection. And lo! An encouragingly buzzing transformation would take place. His mere presence would sprinkle new life. His malleable sensitivity, kind and condescending behaviour, subtle and strong physique dispelled the disharmony and dispassion from the scene.

 

We grew up in our village taking him the single synonym of all that 'politics' means to the children. Such has been the sweeping scope of his charisma across the length and breadth of Haryana! That casual flightiness of flickering childhood can still clearly recall the grand impressiveness of his hold over the rural psyche. While I was 13-year-old, finding me unconcernedly lost in the slow grandeur of childhood, my grandfather – a devout farmer follower of the Jana Nayak – scolded me:

 

‘You haven't yet learnt how to talk like a youth. At your age, Ch. Devi Lal not only spoke like a fiery youth, but acted like one also. At such a tender age of 13, he raised the flag of revolt against the Britishers and courted arrest for the cause of mother India!’

 

It was then I got to realise the real force of his selfless valour, courage and conviction.

 

Generic sacredness of his socially prominent policies--for which he life-long lugged it out and lugged it in--made him the favourite son of Haryana's destiny. The Jan Nayak was compulsively attached to the cause of the sons of the soil. Throughout his life, he apolitically slogged ahead, shouldering the responsibilities of those whose interests – up to that time – were politically sterile. And this cherished goal of his would never get off his uncomplaining shoulders till he left this world. Even during his last days, his feeble, old eyes envisioned a golden future for the deprived and dispossessed masses in the state. A very-very old farmer whom I met in a bus broke down while he narrated the dreamy moments he shared with the farmers' messiah when the latter had been bedridden by the inevitable and cruel hand of age.

 

‘His eyes were peacefully closed,’ the farmer told me about his life-long hero. ‘When I touched his feet, slowly but with sudden urgency his eyes opened. He had energy just enough to say few words and asked, “How is it with the crops?’ And then those big, passionate eyes were closed again, as if he was praying for me and the crops.’

 

Tauji's all-fired urgency had blossomed fresh morning's verve in the sublime stillness of the traditional hinterland of Haryana. Yes! We as children have been the first hand witness to this silent revolution of 'coming of age of the rural Haryana.' His name connoted all that leadership, politics, elections and statesmanship meant to us. Far away from the hoot and holler, and flimsy vanities of 'utilitarian politics', ‘the leader of the common man’ was selflessly busy in his mission. And later when his benevolently beaming imagery shone at the national level, perhaps for the first time this country came to understand and realise the real worth of the Jats, who have been the bread earners of this big country, and who in return were uncomplainingly scraping a living — ‘barely’ — for their impoverished and almost famished families.

 

It is a pungent irony that the mountainously big legacy and stature of this great son of Haryana has proved to be too broad and comprehensive for the local literature to accommodate in its pages. May be it is due to the fact that literature is in its nascent stage in this traditional land of agricultural community. Still the myth and aura spreads through the mouths of the old generation who saw him at their peak. Many hollow cheeks lit up with life around hookah in chaupals as they recall their experiences with this apolitical politician. His political legacy is still encashed for political gains by his sons and grandsons. I have nothing to say in favour or against these endeavours. All I say is that my admiration is limited to the source of the legacy, Ch. Devi Lal. I just cannot help admiring this peasant leader’s exceptional simplicity, magnificent profusion of forthrightness, unflinching righteousness and fierce possessiveness about the cause of downtrodden and deprived.

 

In Haryana the people of every caste, class and political spectrum treat his memories as common legacy and he draws all encompassing reverence, gratitude and hearty salutation from each and every one of us.