New Delhi: He had not been as roundly remembered in a decade as he was this day; he had become a mostly forgotten, if not also often forsaken elder, bundled into reclusion imposed by time and its tough taxations - a lapsed entity, there somewhere, and yet not.
But in death he convened a congregation around him that gave a loud lie to the rumour of forgetting and rendered him, magically, extant and tangible.
Rulers and rivals left and centre, chief ministers and governors, diplomats and dignitaries, gentry and laity, the summoned and the unsummoned - all came to a confluence in a rippling redemption rite for Atal Bihari Vajpayee, former Prime Minister and titan well before he arrived at titles.
Delhi, in fair parts, wore the throwback demeanour of a vibrant, even celebratory, Vajpayee stage. Only, he wasn't speaking. He was being spoken about, in a shower of a thousand slogans, in a hubbub that resounded through the afternoon: "Atal Bihari Vajpayee amar rahen!"
Prime Minister Narendra Modi dutifully played devout disciple of the hour, walking all the miles from the BJP's new headquarters to Smriti Sthal, the final station of the patriarch's remains. The flower-bedecked cortege rolled slow amid the showering of praise and petals; Modi kept patient pace behind through the steamy afternoon, sombre of visage, unwavering of step. This was a finale, it had to be fitting.
It also helped that Delhi is practised to perfection with the protocols of events granted the stature of the State; from start to finish, Vajpayee's send-off went like clockwork.
Unusually for occasions such as these, where time and schedule routinely get short shrift, Vajpayee was laid upon the ceremonial Smriti Sthal deck punctually, not five minutes past the appointed afternoon hour of four.
It was the second site in a single day that Vajpayee had never ever been to before. The first was the newly minted seat of the BJP on Deendayal Upadhyaya Marg in west-central Delhi, a lavishly appointed sandstone edifice that was crafted and inhabited during the long years Vajpayee hibernated away from public gaze and engagement.
He lay there a few hours, by a high wall in a marbled hall, sealed in a fibreglass casket, draped in jasmine and marigold and the Tricolour, a cold visitor to a house his cherub smile and effusive presence may once have warmed.
But chance isn't always a fine thing; it's chance that brought Vajpayee here the way it eventually did - a passed persona, just passing.
Vajpayee's verses beamed upon Vajpayee during that time in the hall, off pristine white PVC banners, like angels watching upon their creator.
" Har chunauti se do-do haath maine kiye; Aandhiyon mein jalaye bujhte hue diye (Every challenge did I robustly fight; Dying lamps in storms did I light)."
They had ordered the homage queues inside, but outside the BJP headquarters milled a chaos, an often disorderly and desperate press of people against the iron grilles, pushing for a way in.
Many managed, many lived with the solace of watching Vajpayee being wheeled out atop the gun-carriage for his final ride to where a bed of sandalwood logs lay waiting as his rest.
For a trice, it did seem the skies would open upon the canopy above, mostly uncovered yet because there just hadn't been time from taking care of the rest. For a trice, it appeared rain would come down and rearrangements would be required.
Another round of elaborate ceremonials done - the laying of wreaths, the sounding of the Last Post by an inter-services band, the burst of a gun salute - Vajpayee's foster daughter and doughty and diligent server for many a year, Namita, came afore with a serving of fire fed by camphor.
Members of the Vajpayee clan stopped to mill about after they were done with building around their dear departed a fragrant mound of sandal.
Ranjan Bhattacharya, foster son-in-law, stood solemn to a side, an arm upon his stricken daughter Niharika. The skies were about to give. But not yet. Not before Namita had fed fire to the timber around the man she forever knew and loved as "Baapji" and the fire itself had been fed with camphor and holy condiment. The skies held, as if watching.
It was Niharika who finally shed a tear.