Our Tamil brethren have names a yard long and difficult for us, poor northerners, to pronounce. Of them, Brahmins known to us colloquially as Tam Brams, also have the sharpest of minds and can outsmart the rest of us, be it in science, mathematics, law or politics. Consequently, when I heard the name, Varadachariar, a faint echo of days long past sounded in my ears. When did I hear of him and why did he find a place in my memory? The problem was solved when I received by post, The Kasi Diaries: Excerpts from the diaries of N. D. Varadachariar (1903-1945), edited by N. V. Sampath, Malathi Rangaswami and V. N. Kasturi. So N.D.V. and Kasi were, in fact, the same person.

He lived a short (1903-45), but eventful life. He was precocious, outgoing lad. At the age of 15, he had the audacity to write to Rabindranath Tagore and invite him to his school in Coimbatore. Gurudev accepted his invitation and turned up taking C.F. Andrews with him. Two years earlier, he had started keeping a diary in which he jotted down what he had done that day with events of national and international importance. Those written between 1917-1930 are untraceable, the rest with some deletions, to spare people about whom Kasi had uncomplimentary things to say, make up this collection.

Kasi graduated in law and practiced as a vakil in the Madras high court. He made a name for himself as an expert in constitutional law. He was invited by different princely states to draw up their constitutions. He read widely, almost a book a day — classics, fiction, history, biography and so on and reviewed them for papers. He had an abiding passion for classical music, both Carnatic and Hindustani. He had Bismillah play shehnai in his home. Also theatre and the films: Tamil, Hindi, Hollywood. He watched cricket and hockey matches, saw C.K. Naidu score centuries and Dhyan Chand, and his brother, Roop Singh, score goals. He was also an ardent follower of Mahatma Gandhi and attended sessions of the Congress party where he had heard Gandhi, Annie Besant, Jawaharlal Nehru, Subhas Bose, Azad, Sarojini Naidu and others. He travelled widely, from Japan to Europe, and noted down what he liked or disliked. What I found most fascinating about his jottings are events leading to the second World War, the rise of fascism in Germany, Italy, Spain, and Japan, their initial victories ending in ignominious defeats. I felt like one watching a news-reel film.

I have given a few examples of the sort of things he noted down. After the massacre of innocents at the Jallianwala Bagh on April 13, 1919, he wrote: “General Dyer must be shot. O’ Dyer must be shot, Viceroy ought to be degraded and his peerage withdrawn.” On hearing Gandhi’s speech: “So full of conviction, so firm, indelible, and lucid…No words can explain my happiness… greatest individual on earth.” On the execution of Bhagat Singh, Rajguru and Sukhdev: “a most foolish act…A good case of organized murder by the State.” On the princely order: “barbarous assemblage of gold and colour (Mysore Durbar)…A lot of pompous fellows who are quite out of tune with the times.” Amongst his closest friends of his later years were C. Vijayraghaschariar (brightest light of my life) and T. T. Krishnamachari.

What is missing in the diaries are his wife and children. Apart from a one line entry on July 15, 1926, “married to Sita (daughter of N. S. Rangaswamy Iyengar, the eminent Coimbatore lawyer,), there are no references to his marital relationship or his children. Perhaps they have been deliberately left out. A great pity!

The emperor and a poet

So many legends have grown round Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib’s ready wit that no one is sure whether they are true or made up. Arjun Singh of Chandigarh who has made the study of Ghalib his mission in life vouches for these two. Once, Ghalib was taken very ill and confined to bed. When King Bahadur Shah Zafar heard of it, he decided to waive protocol and pay him a visit. Etiquette required that he drive up to the poet’s home in Balliamaran and Ghalib would come out to receive him at his door step. The King and his retinue arrived at the poet’s house but he was too ill to get up to welcome the royal visitor. The King was upset and returned to his palace in the Red Fort without seeing the sick man. His courtiers further fed the flames of his anger by harping on Ghalib’s lack of manners and suggested that the monthly stipend given to him from the royal treasury be stopped forthwith. But no sooner was Bahadur Shah back in his palace that he received a note from Ghalib reading:

Haal poochha to kya ghazab kiya?

Main ghareeb aur too hai ghareeb-nawaaz.

You came to enquire about my health, so what?

I am a poor man, you the protector of the poor.

Bahadur Shah relented and sent the poet two baskets full of the choicest dussehri and langda mangoes. The poet’s intake of mangoes was eight per day.

One for the road

Ghalib was not a very religious man. He hardly ever offered namaaz five times a day obligatory for all Muslims and occasionally showed up at the Jama Masjid after Friday prayers. He also made no secret of his liking for liquor condemned by the Koran as haraam (forbidden) to the faithful.

One afternoon as Ghalib was on his way to the liquor shop, came the call for prayer (azaan). A devout Muslim on his way to the mosque reprimanded Ghalib and asked him to fulfil his religious obligation. Ghalib replied in verse:

Teyree masjid mein mullah,

paanch hain augaat barkat kay

Hamaarey maikaday mein har

gharee rehmat barasti hai

Mullah, in your mosque God’s blessings descend only five times a day,

In my tavern God’s mercy rains

down on us all night and day.