ARJUN
03 - 07 - 1965 22 - 03 - 2020
ADIEU
ARJUN
(03 / 07 /1965 - 22 / 03 / 2020)
Tina, Tom, Tomy Tina,Tom, Tomy
rjun Rajagopal died a year ago. I don’t think I have been so silent about the death of any one so close to me. I struggled to bring myself to say a public adieu to him, wondering through this past year, to what avail. Now after a year, I sort of have some hazy answers. It is to tell people that matter to me, that my world is that much less whole, that I am that inadequate, because in the place of one of the sureties that enveloped my sense of self there is now just a void.
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(I am indebted to Tom Thomas and Albertina Almeida whose recollections give glimpses of Arjun the person that my ruminations scarce describe.) I met Arjun in 1985, while he was a student of Madras Christian College, and I had bunkered at AICUF House on Sterling Road in Chennai, then Madras, along with Tom Thomas and Albertina Almeida for a year of full timer stint in the student organisation. Arjun was part of the student initiative SPACE (Students for Protection and Care of the Environment) that sprung in to being after the
strangers: nattilevideya? We struck a chord. He lived close by, in the SBI staff quarters off Sterling Road, where Tom and I could sneak in with him and play table tennis at the officer’s recreation club. Arjun’s father, the Late N Rajagopal started his career with the Imperial Bank which merged with the State Bank of India, post independence. Arjun Bhopal Gas Tragedy. SPACE brought together the activist firmament of Chennai, to commemorate the first anniversary of the disaster with an exhibition and allied events: No More Bhopals Campaign. The preparatory work lasted a month and more leading upto December 4th and AICUF House campus turned out to be the convenient activity hub. Arjun was the odd one in SPACE, not just because he was the only non Law College student in its core group; his silence was conspicuous. He did so much and spoke so little. This was my first prolonged stint outside Kerala and I had not yet picked up the trick of instinctual recognition of a fellow Malayalee in alien lands, so he did startle me with that intro question between two Malayalee
Jab we met: 35 years ago, 1985/ 86 was abuzz with solidarity
discussions and actions by student groups - the genocide by Union Carbide in Bhopal, the second citizens’ report on the State of India’s Environment, the police brutality and killing of fisherfolk on Marina, the national Fishworkers agitation, and more. Arjun was actively engaged in all of them. We spent literally most evenings/ nights together those days - discussing, debating, writing hand-outs, cyclostyling them (yes, thats the technology which existed in those days), creating posters using old news papers and pasting them around the city. But that was a different time when democracy still held its head high.
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changed schools and colleges galore on account of his transfers. Our Chennai sojourn was short-lived. I left for Kerala after the one year stint at AICUF while Arjun cut short his Masters programme and his Chennai days to join Kashtakari Sanghatan in Dahanu, Maharashtra. Decades later, while he was hard selling me
Arjun, the MCC student: I was at a loss figuring out what post graduation course I should pursue - my interest in Physics or change track. Arjun, who was already a PG student at MCC gave me this brilliant idea to try out M.A Philosophy at MCC. I have a feeling he might have even told me that deeper pursuit of physics invariably leads to Philosophy and hence it is well worth it. So, under the stewardship of Arjun, I ended up attending M.A first year lectures in Philosophy for one full week - that too, without taking admission! I still remember our journeys together on the suburban train to Tambaram and then the short walk to the college. And while I stealthily attended the lectures, he would check on me every few lectures apart. TT
the idea of settling down in and farming a common piece of land, he let me in on his existential angst: "Seeing things around me, I can only do two things - take up arms or do farming. The former is futile, so I have no choice but do farming.” The Kashtakari time must have put paid to even his fleeting romanticism with any form of violence - either as offence or defence. The fledgeling assertion of tribal rights that Arjun lend his mite to was met with brute force involving murder, kidnappings and rape at the hands of the entrenched political force of the area then - the CPI(M). Arjun lamented often about how the land of Godavari Parulekkar and the lone bastion of the left in Maharashtra eventually turned a Sangh fortress.
Ossie, the pillar: Reminiscence of our Chennai days will be
empty without a mention of Ossie Fernandes the friend, guide, philosopher for all of us during those formative years. He strung us together with an invisible thread of politics and friendship that stood us in good stead. After we went our different ways, Ossie’s house at Alandur was the invariable port of call on our return visits to Chennai. Ossie pilloried Arjun for his Kashtakari activism, how it deflected Left unity; Arjun demurely but firmly recounted the red terror that the Adivasis had to put up with, for retaining the last bastion of the CPI(M) in Maharashtra. Our subaltern soirees would stretch in to the wee hours of the morning, grounding our flights of fancy and idealism in the harsh realities caste and power at play. Arjun was devastated at Ossie’s sudden demise. He wrote: one of the saddest days in my life, feel so numb. Now its only in memories. I really wish all the years that we were together can be lived all over again... I can't even look at his photograph. TT/TM
From Kashtakari Sanghatan to tending to the farm he acquired in a Gujarat - Maharashtra border village, to a stint in the U.K, where he part timed as a farm hand, back to Delhi where his green thumb had to be restrained to the potted plants in the balcony of his rented premises and then on to Pune where at the distance of half a day’s journey he found the farm to toil away to glory, give free rein to his dogs and wake up to nature’s wonders each morning. He made copious notes this time. Do Bigha Zameen is a blogpost that reveals the man, the predilections of farming, his absolute sense of realism, his authenticity, the way he shunned doctrinal organic farming adamancy; he famously
shocked his many ‘gentlemen farmer fans’ declaring that his next crop of paddy will have urea and phosphate for nutrients! But he remained a ready reckoner and source of inspiration for ever so many adherents of sustainable farming practices. While back in Pune from his farm sojourns, he revelled in a passion that very few of us knew he had: cooking. Genre breaking, taboo breaking cooking that he aptly called Underground Kitchen. Both Tom and I last met Arjun in December 2019. Over the phone from Pune he said, 'Clifton is gone, I need a place to stay. Coming to do the sales related paper work, Clifton was his family property in
Kozhikode – a colonial era bunglow brought from its British owners by his paternal grandfather, Dr. Achuthan, who made a mark in the civic life of Calicut both as a medical practitioner and as a fellow traveler of Calicut’s social reform stalwarts like Mithavadi Krishnan. Since his father’s passing in 2015 Clifton’s disposal was only a matter of time.
Arjun, the parent: In the Delhi days, we
also met at parent meetings at Mirambika, the free progress school where his son and my daughter were enrolled. Mirambika paid a great deal of attention to holistic education that involved the child, the school and the parents and Arjun was quite regular and dedicated in ensuring that he never faulted on his part. TT
Arjun, the cook: This is a phase in his life that his Pune friends and admirers would probably most identify him with. Through ‘Underground Kitchen’ he seemed to have combined his passion for farming and cooking as he sourced many of his grains and even chicken from his own farm. I was fortunate enough to visit him in Pune about a year and a half ago and get a first hand taste of some of his most popular dishes. And true to his nature, like in everything else, he put his heart and soul into his culinary skills and it was there for all of us to taste. Till then, I had only known of Arjun’s liking for Kozhikode’s ‘pathiri’, which he bought back with him, in large quantities, every time he made a trip there. TT
Arjun eventually did not come home though: ‘it was too late in the night and did not want to disturb you people’, so the quite one checks in to a hotel. With property registration over in the forenoon we are to catch up at Elements. He usually has a list of stuff he needs to pick up from our organic store for his Underground Kitchen. Happen chance and Tom was in Kerala that very day. We made plans in a matter of minutes; we would spend the night at the Elements facility at Ulikkal in the hill tracts of Kannur. Both Tom and Arjun hadn’t seen the place, so let us go. With the ancestral property alienated, it was an emotional moment for the family and his mother and sister were legitimately upset at this sudden change of plans, but then as his sister Amri-
tha tells me, we know the man! Tom drove down from Thodupuzha and off we went for a night out to the Kannur hinterlands. As a trio we were meeting after some gap. And true to form, our man was his silent self. But not a wee bit strange, not in the least out of character. A nod, a quintessentially Arjun smile, an admonishing chetta call; we were back in the manner we always were. Mutually assured in the camaraderie, companionship we shared. Arjun and I occupied the rear seats of the car on our trip to Ulikkal. Why is your leg swollen, I ask him. ‘Who knows? Flight, long wait at Bangalore airport for a connection flight. It should go away’. I let it pass. At Ulikkal, I see the strain when he walks up the stairs. Hey, your swollen leg shows, I tell him.
Arjun, the artist: Whoever would have thought
that Arjun, who was a fairly regular smoker, would be good at flute? He wasn’t just good, but remarkable. The highlight of our overlapping years in Delhi was his passion for the flute. He even managed to convince me to try my hand at it saying all that was required was practice. That’s how he became my flute teacher! He hand picked the right flute for me and taught me the basics, including caring for the flute. The flute was my dream instrument, but I never thought I will be able to play it! Though I never really managed to learn beyond the ability to play saptaswaras, to me it was a great achievement - thought it did disappoint him that I wasn’t able to progress beyond that. I blamed it on my constant travel and he more accurately on my lack of dedication, something he had in abundance, in everything he did.But he gave up the flute in later days.One of the three dogs (he called them his shadows) could not stand flute sound! TT
Yeah, I can feel it now, he said. Next day, Arjun has a flight to catch by noon and we head back from Ulikkal early morning. Back in his Hotel I notice the swelling is still not subsided. You better show this to a doctor, I chide. I think so too, he said. A week later he calls: Boss, the swelling is no travel fallout. It is a
heart condition. Congenital at that. I will have to go under the surgeon’s scalpel. Wait, what, second opinion, other doctors, should you do it in Pune, what about non surgical options, and why so quickly… I am certain not just me,
The politics of doing:Arjun has blazed a quiet yet firm trail.
Whether with farming on two bighas of land or in running his Underground Kitchen where food, that did not have the backing of power, was sold, soft-spoken Arjun made a political statement by doing. Today many middle class and dominant caste people may be turning to farming as revivalism, but Arjun ploughed a lonely furrow, literally and figuratively. He was amazingly gentle yet firm, and sensitive too. You couldn't easily get away with making a statement he didn't agree with. He was one of a kind and irreplaceable, but we can walk on the path he blazed. Albertina Almeida
several others too would have blabbered to him.The doctors are clear that is the solution, so sooner the better. He sounded matter of fact. Surgery, longer than anticipated hospital stay, an emergency hospitalisation again. But when I spoke to him on the 18th of March, he sounded quite alright. Tom checked on him telephonically the next day. Did you know he
Arjun, the Praxis board member: Similar to limelight,
what Arjun avoided fastidiously was membership of organisations and official roles. Many were surprised therefore at the exception he made for Praxis. He served as a Praxis board member for several years. It was a re-union of sorts of the Chennai days with Arjun joining Tomy, Albertina and me on the Praxis Governing board together. TT
Pic credit: Salil Chaturvedi
needs oxygen support, Tom asks me. Hell no, I would not talk so long with him if I knew. … On March 22nd,around the noon, he made himself a chicken dish, told Mona his partner that he would rest a while before they have lunch. Never woke up after.
Arjun, the friend: I guess steadfast is one of the words that would describe our friendship. There was no demand, no expectations, no complaints. Every time we met it was as if the gap years didn’t exist. We just got on with the same warmth and belonging and camaraderie. TT
What is it about this man that leaves an indelible impression on those who had the good fortune to know him at close quarters? He was authentic, he was intense. To know that there is one such as him in your social and emotional scheme of things grounds you and in some indefinable way secures you. You are declaring your vulnerability when you finally are forced to admit he is not around, which might be why this took so long in coming.
Tomy Mathew Vadakkancheril 22-03-2021