New Delhi: Fifteen years ago, Vishwanath Pratap Singh breathed his last at the national capital’s Apollo Hospital. There is little doubt that Singh — who served as prime minister from 2 December, 1989 till 10 November, 1990 — changed the course of Indian politics by implementing the recommendations of the Mandal Commission.
Such was his popularity that at one point in time, even children in the Hindi heartland knew the slogan: ‘Raja nahi fakir hai, desh ki takdeer hai’ (he is not a king but a saint, he is the country’s destiny).
The following is a first-hand account of ThePrint’s National Photo Editor Praveen Jain, encompassing some of his encounters with V. P. Singh over the years:
Throughout his days in active politics, V. P. Singh was very conscious about his image. In the run-up to the 1989 Lok Sabha polls, the then Congress rebel, who had filed his nomination from Fatehpur, was in Allahabad while on the campaign trail. After a day of hectic campaigning, I saw Singh lying down on a sofa to rest and captured the moment from a distance. Next thing I remember is a startled Singh chasing me. He thought a picture of him looking exhausted could give his political adversaries an excuse to target him.
Another incident that comes to mind is from 1988. Singh was attending a lunch meeting of the National Front, along with Ramakrishna Hegde, NTR and Atal Bihari Vajpayee, among others. I spotted a non-vegetarian dish on Singh’s plate and clicked a picture of it. As soon as he saw the flash, a furious Singh slammed his plate before running towards me.
One has to admit that V. P. Singh was a multi-faceted personality. He loved painting and once even came to the photo section of The Indian Express to discuss with me his paintings. He would sometimes call me to his home, albeit without my camera, to ask for my opinion of his artwork.
Though a crafty politician, he also mastered the art of nurturing relationships.
When I decided to hold a photo exhibition on 1 January, 2000, I wanted Atal Bihari Vajpayee to inaugurate it but the then prime minister had other engagements. When I approached V. P. Singh and asked him to inaugurate it instead, he cancelled his New Year plans and indulged me. It was after the same photo exhibition that Singh, while speaking to media persons, announced his retirement from active politics.
One cannot help but think how Singh, who was the darling of the media in his heyday, never got his due at the time of his death. Singh died on 27 November, 2008, when the country was dealing with the 26/11 attacks. Hence, the news of his demise got buried under the gravity of the attacks — a sad ending to a life rife with colourful chapters.
Such was his stature that once prime minister Nawaz Sharif of Pakistan had asked me to convey his regards to two Indians he admired: the actor Dharmendra and V.P. Singh.
Though our acquaintance had its ebbs and flows, I remember Singh calling me to the Apollo Hospital days before he breathed his last. It was then that Singh, who was otherwise wary of my camera lens lest I might capture him off guard, allowed me to click some pictures of him on his deathbed.
