Headlines
R.K. Laxman: The Uncommon Man passes into history
By
Quaid Najmi
Mumbai, Jan 26
A story in the media goes that
one day a few decades ago, The Times Of India (ToI) cartoonist and
creator of The Common Man, R.K. Laxman, retired. The following day, the
legend's cartoon was not to be found as readers rubbed their
disbelieving eyes over their morning cuppa.
Sustained letters and
calls to the ToI offices from the loyal and casual readers finally led
to Laxman being dragged out of retirement and reinstating the uncommon,
signature cartoons to their dedicated slot on Page 1.
That was
the command Laxman’s Common Man in “You Said It†pocket cartoons held
over masses, having regaled several generations of ToI readers in Mumbai
and elsewhere in the country, for decades.
ToI management
rewarded Laxman with lifetime employment, while his son Srinivas Laxman,
considered India’s only journalist specializing in space reporting,
retired in 2009.
“He continued as a regular fulltime employee and drew his salary till the end…†Laxman's wife Kamala told IANS.
After
a rich life, the creator of the man with a bushy moustache, tufts of
hair on the rim of a balding head and perenially donning a chequered
coat with patch-work - The Common Man, immortalised as a statue in front
of an educational institute in Pune, died Monday at the age of 94.
Born
Oct 24, 1921, in Mysore, Rasipuram Krishnaswamy Iyer Laxman and his
brother R.K. Narayan, who later became a leading Indian English writer -
besides four other brothers - had an ordinary childhood, as evidenced
from Narayan's books, "The Malgudi Days".
Laxman loved drawing,
painting, and even writing a bit, grabbed all opportunities to practice
his talents - be they books, tables, floors or walls.
At an early
age, he lost his father, a school headmaster, his elder brothers took
up the responsibility for managing the house while Laxman completed
schooling.
He applied to Mumbai’s famed Sir J.J. School of Arts,
but was rejected - his drawings failed the high expectations of the
renowned institution.
Disappointed but not disheartened, Laxman
joined Maharaja College, Mysore, and earned his B.A. degree from the
University of Mysore, and came to Mumbai for a living.
Alongside
academics, he pursued drawing, first with freelance contributions to
local publications, ‘Swarajya’, ‘Swatantra’, and later sketched cartoons
for brother R.K. Narayan’s stories published in ‘The Hindu’ and other
newspapers.
His earliest works with Mumbai media were a stint
with the defunct Blitz, and then to the leading newspaper of that era,
The Free Press Journal, as a staff cartoonist.
At that time,
Laxman’s colleague was one soft-spoken gent, Bal Thackeray - who later
became a commanding political force in Maharashtra - and they remained
dear friends till Thackeray’s death Nov 17, 2012.
Laxman later got an offer with the ToI - which proved to be the turning point in his career and made him a living legend.
As
the ToI’s cartoonist, Laxman had a field day - always taking a bit
cynical, humorous, and hapless, view of the country rising from the
ruins of the so-called jewel in the crown of the British Empire into a
force to reckon with in the global arena - through the eyes of The
Common Man, his vocational trademark.
Laxman had an uncanny knack
of caricaturing all humans - politicians, film stars, celebs or
criminals - highlighting some or the other of their features and
characteristics, which bestowed upon them an instant identity.
The
antics of all his powerful subjects - who became equal under Laxman’s
brutal pen and brush - were reduced to ordinary jokes or public
buffoonery.
It was the bald head of the late prime minister
Jawaharlal Nehru, who was rarely seen without the Gandhi cap, while it
was the long pointed nose and narrow eyes for his daughter, Indira
Gandhi.
Rajiv Gandhi was depicted as a confused, cherubic
baby-faced youth, while younger brother Sanjay Gandhi was the naughty,
enfant terrible of Indian politics, and Morarji Desai was one tall thin,
grim man, standing ramrod, both in Laxman’s creations and in real life.
Who
can forget the short and roly-poly perpetually grinning image of former
deputy prime minister Jagjivan Ram or the potbellied S.B. Chavan with a
stern, headmaster expression always on.
Once Laxman said at an
informal gathering that politicians of every genre used to approach him
and begged of him to make their caricatures, that would make them famous
and 'noticeable'.
But, he would politely shoo them off, saying
‘when your time comes, I will make you a cartoon…’ - and mercilessly
chronicled all the good, sad, grim and ugly historic events during his
more than six decades of caricaturing.
His severe criticism of
successive governments at the states and the centre, always highlighting
their glaring acts of omission and commission in his typical wry
humour, earned him fans and admirers even among his worst detractors.
Later,
his works were compiled into a whopping nine volumes of pocket cartoons
and a book of select political cartoons, “The Eloquent Brush†featuring
his best commentaries from the Nehru to Rajiv Gandhi eras.
Laxman
was invited by various organisations and governments to travel around
and write and illustrate his memoirs - in the form of short stories or
travelogues - as he did for Madhya Pradesh, West Bengal and also
Australia.
However, the government mandarins and politicians whom
he slaughtered with his pen and brush, proved a forgiving lot when they
honoured him with top civilian awards like Padma Shri and Padma
Bhushan, and on the international stage, he bagged the Magsaysay Award.
Laxman
also wrote a few novels, many short stories and directed a movie “Wagle
Ki Duniya†for the national television, his autobiography "The Tunnel
Of Time" and later, a tele-serial based on his works was also launched.
Doted
by his writer wife Kamala, son Srinivas, and daughter-in-law Usha,
Laxman preferred to discard his home in the posh Malabar Hill, south
Mumbai, to live in the quiet environs of Pune, just a couple of hours'
drive away.













