E-Paper
The boy next door
The Naths and our family were as different as chalk and cheese. Our household was run on rather spartan lines. The only indulgence was education ? we went to the best schools, as did the Nath children, writes Manju Vaish.
When my parents were transferred to Kolkata 50 years ago, we counted ourselves lucky to be allotted an old colonial bungalow, in a very quiet lane in the south of the city. We had a wonderful garden at the back where dahlias as big as dinner plates bloomed in winter. However, it was a wilderness in comparison to our neighbours, the Naths’, immaculately manicured garden across the road.
The Naths and our family were as different as chalk and cheese. Our household was run on rather spartan lines. The only indulgence was education — we went to the best schools, as did the Nath children. Kamal and my brother, Pradeep, forever in each other’s homes, were as thick as thieves. When not playing cricket or ping-pong, they would be up to all sorts of hijinks. Kamal’s insatiable curiosity led to a penchant for taking apart any gadget that he could lay his hands on. Then, he and his partner in crime, Pradeep, would frantically try and put Humpty Dumpty together again.
Mahendra Nath, Kamal’s father, had come up the hard way — through sheer perseverance and tenacity. Although he headed a mammoth industrial empire, he had not lost his moorings. Although there was much economic disparity between our family and his, he gave our parents great respect, and never allowed money to come in the way of friendship. In fact, Pradeep, who was a tad more serious about his lessons than Kamal, was often held as a role model, much to the chagrin of both the boys.
To make a man of his son, Mahendra Nath found it necessary to expose him to the rough and tumble of life. A boarding school is a great leveller, so when my brother was packed off to Doon School, Kamal soon followed. Life at Doon was especially tough for a boy brought up in the lap of luxury — early morning PT in just a singlet in winters, no coolers or air-conditioners in scorching summers. Kamal, surprisingly, was unfazed by all these physical hardships and took to boarding school like fish to water. His infectious humour, witty repartee and unassuming ways made him the most popular boy in his class.
Kamal, though of razor-sharp intelligence, did not quite take to homework or books. Once in a geography test he was asked to shade in the regions of the world where rice grows. Kamal shaded in every country. His logic: the darn thing has to grow somewhere! Today he has his basmati on his fingertips!
Much water has flown down the river since those carefree days. The irrepressible schoolboy has metamorphosed into one of our finest politicians. His firm attitude, crystal-clear thinking and commitment to the interest of our farmers in the face of stiff opposition from the developed world has earned him kudos not only at home but around the globe.
