Just Like That | MK Rasgotra turns 100: A legacy of diplomacy, elegance and wisdom

Known for his elegance and wisdom, Rasgotra’s career and personal anecdotes continue to inspire the foreign service community

Padma Bhushan, Maharaj Krishna Rasgotra (MKR), former foreign secretary of India, celebrated his 100th birthday last week on September 11. A reception was organised by the Indo-American Friendship Association chairperson, Ambassador Surendra Kumar, to celebrate this milestone. It was attended by a full hall of Rasgotra saheb’s friends and admirers, including journalists, and, of course, a huge number of the serving and retired members of the Indian Foreign Service (IFS) fraternity.

Maharaj Krishna Rasgotra (MKR), former foreign secretary of India, celebrated his 100th birthday last week on September 11 (HT PHOTO)

MKR arrived dressed immaculately as always in a suit. He looked fragile, but walked in with the perfunctory aid of a walking stick, carrying his hundred years of age lightly. To congratulate him, and recall his great record of service, five persons were approved by him to make short speeches. These were Padma Vibhushan Sonal Mansingh, Mani Shankar Aiyar, Lalit Mansingh (former foreign secretary), Shiv Shankar Menon (also former foreign secretary and national security adviser), and myself.

In one of my earlier columns here, I had written about five men above the age of 90, who were fit and well and leading active and meaningful lives. At the top of that list was MKR, by far the oldest at 98. The other four were Karan Singh, K. Natwar Singh, K.P. Singh (founder and chairperson emeritus of DLF), and Prem Prakash, founder of news agency Asian News International (ANI). MKR had then hosted a lunch for all these five luminaries, along with me and my wife. Of the five grand old men, only one, K. Natwar Singh, passed away recently at the age of 95. It was a great loss, but by the grace of the Almighty, the other four are well.

Among those who spoke yesterday, I was the youngest, and, therefore, knew the least about MKR’s professional life. He joined the IFS in 1949 — four years before I was born— and was foreign secretary from May 1982 to January 1985, when I was just six years old in service. However, I did serve under him at the ministry of external affairs from 1982 to 1985. I was undersecretary on the Soviet Union desk, and he, as foreign secretary, was in charge of this country.

It was at this time that I first met with MKR. That meeting will forever remain etched in my mind. In those days, rather unconventionally for the stiff predictability of South Block, I used to wear a starched white khadi kurta and pyjama in summer to the office. In that attire, I had to attend a meeting in the foreign secretary’s office. When I entered those hallowed portals, along with K.Raghunath, then joint secretary and who later also became foreign secretary, MKR was seated in the grand room in a three-piece suit, tie and fashionable lapel handkerchief. By contrast, I was hugely underdressed in my simple khadi outfit.

For a full two minutes—or so it seemed—MKR stared silently at me. Then he spoke: "That’s a nice dress." I thanked him. After a pause, he said that I have one suggestion to make: wear a Jawahar jacket with this, to add a touch of formality. With the temerity which only a young under-secretary can have, I said: "Sir, your suggestion is well taken, but I sit with two other officers in a room which has only a desert cooler and is not as freezing cold as your room. A Jawahar jacket will be difficult to wear in the heat." MKR could have taken this amiss, but he did not. With a laugh, he said: "I know, I know. But you do not have to wear it all the time. Put it on a hanger, and wear it only when you have to go for a meeting." I concurred, but MKR was not quite finished. "In fact, I will buy you a Jawahar jacket myself." Again, the rebellious spirit in me wrongly interpreted this as an act of condescension, and I replied: "Thank you very much sir, but I can buy one myself." MKR—and that was, indeed, his quintessential personality—immediately responded: "Of course, you can. I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was that I would like to gift you one." That left me stumped, and I left the room with a new respect for a boss I had not known before and had just met for the first time.

After retirement in 1985, MKR moved to his home in Delhi’s Vasant Vihar, where I too live. It was during this time that I really got to know him, interacting with him as often as I could every time I was posted in Delhi. He is an elegant and meticulous host, and my wife and I have been invited several times for lunch and dinner by him. Till very recently, he would also graciously accept an invitation by us to dinner, arriving punctually and nattily dressed, sipping a glass of wine, and enjoying his meal. A great raconteur with a ready sense of humour, he can still regale friends with scintillating stories from his multi-faceted diplomatic career, and anecdotes about the high and mighty he has had occasion to interact with. At the age of 92, he wrote his autobiography, A Life in Diplomacy, which Natwar Singh hailed as one of the best autobiographies written by any foreign service officer.

Of course, in a span of 100 years, he has dealt with tragedy too. He lost his ten-year-old son in a tragic accident. His wife died in 2018, and now he has one surviving son. But he still retains his zest for life. As he said in his speech, which he delivered standing at the podium for half an hour, at this age, one can only enjoy the time left, and live free of any expectations or regrets.

Pavan K Varma is author, diplomat, and former Member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha). Just Like That is a weekly column where Varma shares nuggets from the world of history, culture, literature, and personal reminiscences. The views expressed are personal