On
November 3, Bal Thackeray’s physician made a phone call from Mumbai. “Balasaheb
is sinking,” he told cartoonist R.K. Laxman’s wife Kamala. “He wants to hear
his voice just once.”
Later
that afternoon from Pune, 91-year-old Laxman, who is slowly regaining his
speech after a stroke he suffered in 2010, called his fellow-cartoonist and
friend of more than 60 years to enquire about his health. “I’m well on my way
out. Goodbye,” the 86-year-old Thackeray said, according to Ms. Laxman. “Then
Balasaheb told me, ‘You know, I’ve never spoken like this. I didn’t want to
regret not having called him’,” Ms. Laxman told this correspondent recently.
“As
I can see it, you’ll recover and surely come to our Pune house again,” she told
the ailing octogenarian. “I can only wish,” Mr. Thackeray replied, but insisted
on saying goodbye again.
Their
friendship may have looked unusual: R.K. Laxman, the relentless critic of the
state of the world, yet affable creator of ‘The Common Man,’ who crossed all
boundaries of identity and came to be regarded as the conscience of the nation,
cannot be more different than the right-wing politician.
Thackeray
met Mr. Laxman in 1946, when he joined The Free Press Journal, where Mr.
Laxman was working. In their twenties and just starting out as political
cartoonists, they hit it off instantly. “They visited cafes, shared many days
of people-watching and laughing together. Both were cartoonists, what else do
you expect? Their relationship grew on a steady dose of laughter,” Ms. Laxman
said. Mr. Laxman, who gestured to convey the fact that his hearing too was not
so good anymore, sat holding his wife’s hand, nodding in agreement to stories
of yesteryear.
In
1950, Mr. Laxman joined The Times of India where he started his daily
pocket cartoon, ‘You Said It.’ Soon, Thackeray too quit The Free Press Journal.
“It became impossible to work there. The newspaper wanted them to follow
Communist leanings, and both of them disagreed…,” Ms. Laxman said.
But
their friendship continued over the years. Thackeray started his own magazine
Marmik. “All through, he was proud of Laxman, and pampered him. Balasaheb knew
Laxman was a better cartoonist, a step above,” she said.
In
1966, when Thackeray announced the launch of the Shiv Sena, it directly
targeted south Indians. But this did not change anything. “There were no
political strings attached to their relationship,” she said, describing Mr.
Laxman as “apolitical.”
Asked
whether the Sena’s vicious attacks on south Indians bothered Mr. Laxman, she
said: “Sometimes he said he shouldn’t have gone this far. But we understood he
perhaps had his own reasons for doing what he did. But it never mattered that
Laxman was a south Indian. Our friendship was totally different.”
Through
the 1980s and 1990s, when the Sena’s fanaticism peaked, Mr. Laxman’s cartoons
never targeted it, Ms. Laxman said. “He kept quiet. …And Balasaheb appreciated
it.”
“He
registered his protest in silence. He didn’t understand the need for violence,
though. He used to say, is he mad? Why does he need to do this? But they never
talked about it, as far as I know. Maybe, his way of expressing was not to
express at all. But Laxman forgives people.”
“Laxman
liked the cartoonist Bal more than the politician Balasaheb. He’d have liked it
if he had continued being a cartoonist, but he told me maybe it is his inner
calling, we cannot avoid that. He always thought that if you are cut out to do
something, you must do it,” Ms. Laxman explained.
Once,
many years after the Sena was formed, Balasaheb confessed he felt sorry he
didn’t continue being a cartoonist. “He felt sorry. He told Laxman, ‘I’m
basically a cartoonist’,” she said.
Thackeray
visited their Pune house for the first time last year with his son Uddhav and
grandson Aditya. Showing off the sketch of the Common Man that Mr. Laxman made
for him, he told reporters: “When he saw me, the poor chap started crying.”
“These
days, every time they see each other, one starts crying and then the other
starts crying — till one of them bursts out in laughter. The laughter stays,”
she said.
An
unprecedented multitude of supporters, celebrities, industrialists and common
men converged upon the city’s Shivaji Park to bid an emotional adieu to Shiv Sena
supremo Bal Keshav Thackeray, who was cremated here on Sunday with full state
honours.
The
mortal remains of the 86-year-old patriarch — a firebrand mascot of Hindu
nationalism and Marathi pride — were consigned to the flames with a 21-gun
salute preceding the final stages of his funeral.
The
venue, located in the heart of the city, was chosen as it was the place where
Mr. Thackeray had launched the Shiv Sena in 1966, thus commencing a stormy
46-year-old journey into politics.
“Between
5 p.m. and 6 p.m., there were around four to five lakh people at Shivaji Park,”
Niket Kaushik, Additional Commissioner of Police, told The Hindu.
Earlier
in the day, Mr. Thackeray’s funeral procession, that was scheduled to leave
‘Matoshree’ in suburban Bandra at 7 a.m., was delayed as roads around the
Thackeray residence were clogged with lakhs of fervent supporters who blocked
the route of the funeral procession.
Mr.
Thackeray’s body was finally brought out of his house a little after 9 a.m. in
a hearse adorned with flowers. His youngest son, Sena executive president
Uddhav Thackeray, broke down as his father’s body was being put on the truck.
His
estranged cousin, Maharashtra Navnirman Sena chief Raj Thackeray, walked
alongside the hearse till Mahim causeway.
Apart
from a grief-stricken Uddhav Thackeray, who was compelled to plead to the
restive crowds to show restraint, his wife Rashmi and son Aditya Thackeray
stood beside Mr. Thackeray’s body on the hearse that also bore Sena-alliance
leaders, Ramdas Athawale of the Republican Party of India (A) and senior BJP
leader Vinod Tawde.
Cries
of ‘Parat ya parat ya Balasaheb parat ya (Balasaheb come back) rent the air as
frenzied Sainiks crowded near the cortege, slowing down its movement. The
procession reached Shivaji Park at around 4:30 in the evening as a host of
dignitaries gathered to pay their last respects to Mr. Thackeray.
A
stellar cast of politicians, Bollywood movie stars and industry titans attended
the funeral.
Politicians,
including the top brass of the Bharatiya Janata Party (a political ally of the
Sena in the State) that included leaders like L.K. Advani, Sushma Swaraj, Arun
Jaitley, Nitin Gadkari, Madhya Pradesh Chief Minister Shivraj Singh Chauhan and
Gopinath Munde were present on the occasion.
Among
the ruling coalition leaders, Mr. Thackeray’s close friend, Nationalist
Congress Party chief Sharad Pawar, Maharashtra Chief Minister Prithviraj
Chavan, senior NCP leaders Praful Patel and Chhagan Bhujbal, State Home
Minister R.R. Patil were present, along with virtually every top State leader.
Amitabh
Bachchan, Sanjay Dutt, Nana Patekar and Madhur Bhandarkar were among the
prominent Bollywood celebrities present.
The
final rites were performed by Mr. Uddhav Thackeray and an emotionally
overwhelmed Raj Thackeray.
Shivaji
Park resounded with cries of “Balasaheb amar rahe” (long live Balasaheb) as a
grim-looking Mr. Uddhav Thackeray lit the pyre.
All
through the day, a veritable swarm of Sena supporters from all parts of
Maharashtra disregarding personal privation poured onto the streets leading
from “Matoshree” — the Thackeray home in suburban Bandra — to Shivaji Park in
order to catch final glimpses of Mr. Thackeray’s journey.
Despite
no formal call being given, a total shutdown, prompted by fear of violence on
the part of Sena cadres, prevailed in many parts of the city and its outer
limits including Navi Mumbai and Thane in the wake of Mr. Thackeray’s death.
Markets,
that began downing shutters since Saturday evening, were shut to the last shop
in Sena strongholds. Trains were the only visible mode of functioning public
transport as taxis and auto rickshaws completely stopped plying the roads.
Hoardings
hailing the former founder of the Shiv Sena as ‘The Last Hindu’ and a ‘Saffron
Storm’ dotted the cityscape throughout the Sena strongholds of Dadar and
Bandra.
