Chennai, July 27: Swapping a President's 340-room palace for a professor's three-room dwelling came easy to A.P.J. Abdul Kalam.

So easy, that the lifelong bachelor had to be persuaded to at least not return to the one-room accommodation where he lived before his Rashtrapati Bhavan stint.

As the time came for India's "Missile Man" to say goodbye to his presidency on July 25, 2007, Kalam had decided to go back to being a professor at Chennai's Anna University, living at its guesthouse like before.

He sought just one small concession before climbing into his IAF flight out of Delhi: that the cook who used to prepare his vegetarian meals five years ago be there for him.

"Earlier he lived in a one-room portion as a professor of technology and societal transformation. When he returned, we had to convince him that he needed a bigger place to receive visitors and accommodate his books," former Anna University vice-chancellor D. Viswanathan recalled.

"He agreed reluctantly but made us promise there'd be no exorbitant expenditure."

On his first night back, Kalam's dinner consisted of four phulkas, bitter gourd kootu and a glass of buttermilk. His simple tastes and attachment to old acquaintances, whatever their status, are a byword also among those who knew him from his days at the Vikram Sarabhai Space Centre, Thiruvananthapuram.

During a visit as President in 2002, he had the roadside cobbler who used to repair his shoes invited to an official event so he could meet the man. George's shop fell on the way to Kalam's favourite eatery, the Guruvayoorappan Hotel, one of few that served the kanji (rice gruel) for dinner. Kalam got its owner, Parameswaran Nair, invited too.

Although a key player in India's missile and space programmes, and part of the core team that set up the Thumba rocket-launching station in the 1960s, Kalam retained his common touch - as he did as President too.

A fine swimmer, the Rameswaram native spent hours with colleagues in the sea off the Kovalam beach, unless riding friend and art connoisseur N. Krishnamoorthy's scooter to a music concert or watching a Hollywood movie at the Sreekumar theatre.

That first night back in Chennai, though, didn't go to plan. As, after dinner, he prepared next morning's lecture on nanotechnology for his students, the power went off. There was no back-up but Kalam insisted on finishing his notes the same night.

Security officials too became fidgety about protecting a VVIP in pitch darkness. So the police suggested that the man who thought three rooms were a luxury shift to Raj Bhavan.

Kalam reluctantly agreed. He stayed up late to finish his notes and was up at 4.30 the next morning. Declining even a cup of tea, he hurried back to campus.

If life was playing a joke, the irrepressible Kalam could give it back.