[Dr Baburam Bhattarai, Prime
Minister of Nepal, visited JNU campus on 22nd October, 2011 , in the midst of his other engagements
during his first official visit as PM to India School
of Social Sciences
Professor Atiya Habeeb Kidwai was
his Research Superivisor at JNU and the relationship between guide and student
has been as special as JNU has had the reputation of fostering from its
inception. Prof Atiya Habeeb Kidwai spoke at the reception organised to honour
Dr. Baburam Bhattarai at JNU.
The JNU Alumni site, as it says, is proud to
carry Professor Atiya Habeeb Kidwai’s speech. The full text of her speech is
given below.]
Prof Atiya Habeeb Kidwai’s speech
Wecome – Dr. Baburam
Bhattarai, Hon’ble Prime Minister of Nepal
I stand here, tall and proud
today, Mr. Prime Minister, as I recall
some incidents that define my association with you as your Doctoral
Supervisor. In doing so I may at times disrespect protocol, for which I hope,
Mr. Adhikari and members of the Nepalese delegation, you will forgive me. Sitting here with us today is not only your
Prime Minister but our own Baburam- batch of 1979-80 and a CSRDian. For me, a member of my family, much admired by my
late husband and ‘babu uncle’ to my children. It is in terms of these
relationships that I will speak, not
about, but to your Prime Minister today. It is only in this very personal way, that I find myself able to share a
journey that began 32 years ago with this exceptional human being.
He has made me play many roles in
his life. That of an elder sister, a guardian, a friend and occasionally of a
teacher. While he has played only one role in my life, which he himself once
defined as that of a problem child, one who can only give worries. He continues
to play that role.
Mr. Vice Chancellor, I am going
to exceed the time alloted to me. Do
allow me. I want the JNU students to know the man they have come to applaud and
I want them to learn from his life
how a teacher-student relationship is
developed and maintained. It is this
relationship that has been the
hallmark of this university and I sometimes find that hallmark fading. I want
the people of Nepal
I now address you Mr. Prime
Minister.
I take you back to 1979 when you
became a part of our Centre. I am sure you remember its vibrancy and the
atmosphere of informality. The faculty was young and was led by a grand man,
Professor Monis Raza, part philosopher, part poet, in totality an intellectual
“bindas”. He would, time and again, tell
us that there are two types of students.
Those who have the spark of intelligence
in their eyes and those who only have innocence and both these types are
important to the system. While allotting
supervisors Professor Monis Raza would invariably keep the “innocent” students
to himself. Those with a spark were allotted to the younger faculty - not yet
seasoned in the art of research supervision.
And so Mr. Prime Minister you were given to me. You not only had the spark but a twinkle in your
eyes. The other reason why you came to me was more academic. You were a
professionally qualified Architect and
Urban Planner. I too had a planning degree and, before I joined JNU in 1971, I
had taught architects and planners at IIT Kharagpur. Professor Raza considered me as the best running mate for
you.
I remember his words to me, “ See what you can do with this
boy”.
Mr. Prime Minister,
I share my first impression of
you. Boyish looks, small frame, pleasant face and a very impish smile. Your answers were in the
shortest of sentences and the smile never left your face. Your reticence gave me the liberty to become, perhaps, the
first dictator in your life. I took it for granted that with your technical
academic background your knowledge of the social sciences must be very limited and so I had to enlarge your
vision. I also immediately decided your
area of research. Since you were from Nepal Nepal
When I look back, I feel that in
imposing these dictates on you, perhaps I was right.
Mr Prime Minister, With little
choice given, you followed my
instructions. You read extensively. Your capacity to read sometimes astonished
me. You also travelled in the interiors of Nepal
Mr Vice Chancellor in those days
you were my neighbour living in 34 Dakshinapuram. I marvel at this coincidence.
The same young boy who so many times
walked past your house, unnoticed, is being celebrated today at his Alma Mater,
by you, as its Vice Chancellor.
Mr Prime Minister,
I recall the days in 1981 when
you were writing your Ph.D. synopsis. I had a bad reputation with my students
of never being satisfied with their work. Here I had a student who was not satisfied with his. So
many drafts were hand written, corrected and hand written again. You faced the
faculty only when your synopsis
reflected the understanding of a theoretically
grounded and sensitive social scientist
-- one who was better than the best.
My memory is slightly nebulous about the period that followed. But
I do remember very distinctly, Mr. Prime Minister, that you had started playing
the disappearing game with me. In JNU
this has always been a very popular pastime which PhD students. I
was used to it but in your case it bothered me. I had wanted you to complete
your thesis in four years and return to Nepal
I, however, soon realized that
things were gradually moving away from my chosen path for you. You
confessed to me one day that you were dividing your time between your academic
work and your social responsibilities towards the Nepalese workers in India Delhi
Sometime during this period an
incident convinced me that you have an inner strength which will help you overcome the worst of situations. You had a
road accident near JNU. There were head injuries which impaired your memory for
recent events. I recall that I would show you books you had read and ask you if you remembered them
and you would quietly nod a “No”. Throughout this turmoil, however, you always looked
at peace with yourself and your smile
never left you. It was just tinged with a strange sadness sometimes. You
re-read what was essential and re-worked your thesis. We waited for things to
get normal and fortunately they did.
And then, to my delight, you
married Hisila whom I had met way back
in 1969 as a chirpy little school girl in IIT Kanpur, that is, much before you
would have met her. At least that is my belief, Mr. Prime Minister.
Between 1982 and 1984 you did
become my “problem child”. I had taken study leave and was to be out of the
country for almost an year. I had made work schedules for all my PhD students.
Instructions to you were “stop reading and start writing”. On my return you
were not on campus. Hisila met me instead with a letter from you. It stunned
me. In that letter you had given voice
to your dilemmas. I quote “If it were not for the social cost invested in me I
would not give much to the degree, as I have firmly resolved to devote all my
time to practical revolutionary activities”. You also wrote that you greatly valued
my trust in your integrity and giving up your research would break that trust.
That was your dilemma. The letter is dated August 12, 1982 .
I decided that day that I would
let you follow your heart because that heart had dreams few of us would dare to
dream. And that heart was kind and simple.
Mr. Prime Minister,
But I knew that if I let you go
without a thesis your conscience would
not allow you to rest.You were carrying the weight of obligation to ICSSR for its
fellowship. Public money was being spent
on you and you felt accountable. I requested Hisila to step in. She
could take over the drudgery of the
manual work that went in the production of a CSRD thesis those days. I started
building pressure on you to complete your work.
When you could not keep deadlines a very apologetic letter would arrive
and I was assured that you were trying your best. Your letters indicate that
those were tortured years for you.
Finally you came with the thesis draft. The main text covered about
500 pages and the Appendices, maps, etc., another 300.
I was petrified. However, after a
quick scan of the thesis I could see that this was the most comprehensive work
on Nepal Nepal June the 16th 1987 . I
wonder if you have collected it.
After the thesis was done I had
thought that my association with you, Mr Prime Minister, would be over as you
were now in a different country and
had a different calling. But you and
Hisila kept the relationship alive on a very personal level. During the years
when you had to be underground for long
periods I would see more of Hisila and we would worry together about Manushi,
your little daughter. You would
occasionally come to see us and that would give us great pleasure. On some visits you looked
very tired, unkempt and withdrawn. To make such situations light I
would scold you about your dirty feet and chappals, give you a towel, and point
you to the bathroom. You would laugh and obey. Rarely would you stay back for a
meal with us though I could see you had not eaten properly for days. One
question never asked was “where have you come from and where were you going”.
Things must have gradually become
more difficult for you, Mr. Prime Minister because your visits stopped and
our only link became the small, simple cards you sent me every New Year
with just Baburam written in a corner. The card would arrive anytime in January
and I would share it with my family. That card was a message that all was well.
One year the card did not come until early March. I panicked and tried to find
out what had happened. That was not easy.
To my relief the card did finally come at the end of March. You had
given me three months of worry.
Mr. Prime Minister,
I wish to share with you what my
husband would say to me when I was concerned about you. “Baburam will survive
all turmoil. His inner strength comes from the fact that he has no personal
ambitions. Only ambitions for a cause”. He understood, because that was also
his inner strength.
In September 2004 I was surprised
to get a phone call from you Mr. Prime Minister. You said you wanted to come
home and meet us. The newspapers had been
reporting that the police was after you, perhaps there was also an
Interpol alert. I pleaded with you not to take the risk. “Tomorrow at 5 pm ” is all I got to hear before the phone was
disconnected . At 5 pm
the next day the doorbell rang and you were there. You had a long relaxed
conversation with my husband that day.
It was like old times. I just watched. Two finest of men, one terminally ill
because, while trying to establish an institution of some repute, and then trying to save it, he never had the time
to rest and recoup from a rare affliction. The other, hounded by the police for
trying to free his countrymen.
I saluted your fearlessness that
day Mr. Prime minister. When you wanted to leave, I asked you how would you go.
“By a bus” you said in your simple manner. I looked at my husband and could see
that he did not want me to interfere. From a distance I watched you walk to the
Godavari bus stop. I waited till a bus came and
left. Both of us restlessly waited for
the next day’s newspaper.
I am grateful to you Mr. Prime
Minister for giving those two hours of happiness to my husband. That was his
last meeting with you.
A few months later the political
situation changed. Some organization was honouring you and insisted that I
came. I sat in a corner at the back and wondered at the ways of the world. Same
man, same city, no police in pursuit. A
young girl came and sat next to me and asked me my name. I looked at her face,
and, instinctively asked - Manushi? Yes, she said. Circumstances allowed us to hug each other for the first
time. She must have been eighteen years
old then.
After the function you extricated
yourself from all the adulation and approached me - just to ask “ “How is sir?”
“No more,” I said. You were whisked away by your security men. You turned back
several times. Your expression will always remain vivid in my memory. Your face
was pale and you angry about your status
because that did not allow you to spend a few moments with someone you wanted
to console. Once again I said to myself. That’s my Baburam!
Mr. Prime Minister, I must stop
now.
Guide Manushi to create a world
where I do not have to wait for eighteen years to hug her. Also tell her that
all the letters and cards you sent to me
and the flow charts you made for your thesis are well preserved and will
be my gift to her children.
But before I leave, I want you to recall that you owe me my Guru
Dakshina. I want it from you today. A promise that you will send me that little
card every year and it will come in January.
Thank you.
