'Mumbai First is not my baby'

LUNCH WITH BS: S M Krishna

Maharashtra's governor on his current and old jobs

Somanahalli Mallaiah Krishna was watching the huge sea waves from the balcony of his seven-room bungalow at Raj Bhavan when the rains came and devastated India's wannabe Shanghai. He stepped out of Malabar Hills two days later to accompany the Prime Minister on his whirlwind tour of Mumbai.

"Manmohanji wanted to know whether the Raj Bhavan was flooded too. I told him there was not much rain in South Mumbai and I came to know about the huge damage in the suburbs later," the Maharashtra Governor says, as his Merc deftly negotiates the rain-drenched, pot-holed Mumbai roads on our way to Golden Dragon, his favourite Chinese restaurant at the Taj, writes Business Standard

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The huge humming sound, courtesy the diesel engine, makes our conversation difficult and we recommend a petrol car for him. Krishna laughs heartily and says he doesn't have the heart to ask for it, given the precarious financial condition of the state government.

He would love to do a lot for the city but feels his experience with the Agenda Task Force in Bangalore may not be easy to replicate in Mumbai due to its sheer size. "Bangalore First was my cup of tea. Mumbai First is somebody else's baby," he says.

The 42-acre mansion in the heart of the city, which includes a forest and a private sea beach, has given him an opportunity to unwind and think about writing a book, but Krishna is clearly missing the sweat and dust of active politics.

"I would be less than honest if I said I do not enjoy active life," he says and talks animatedly about his chief ministerial stint in Karnataka. He is proud of the mid-day meal scheme that he launched for the poorest of the poor, the Bangalore First initiative and so on, and says nobody in Karnataka can destroy what he had built, unless they want to abandon the concept of public good.

"I was singularly unlucky to have three years of severe drought. The Cauvery crisis (the dispute with the Tamil Nadu government over the Cauvery waters) would not have happened if the rain god had been kind to me and my state," Krishna says looking wistfully at the rains through his car window. The drought cost him his job as he lost the elections.

We enter Golden Dragon after covering the distance from Raj Bhavan in less than half the normal time. Travelling with the Governor can indeed be a rewarding experience. Krishna, who is a regular here, asks us whether he could choose the menu and we readily accept the offer. Krishna settles for vegetable fried rice, diced chicken, prawn noodles and mixed vegetables.

During his Praja Socialist Party days in the 1960s, he had once demanded the abolition of the Governor's post as all that they did was to sign on the dotted line. But now that he is occupying the post, he thinks he was wrong: the Governor's job serves a useful Constitutional purpose indeed.

Krishna's refusal to "sign on the dotted line", however, wasn't too happy an experience, which explains his refusal to comment on the administration's ineptitude in preventing the total collapse of the city after the rains.

After he returned to the state government the Ordinance on dance bars because he saw little merit in its urgency, Maharashtra politicians alleged that he was trying to help the Shettys of Karnataka who would have lost substantial money if the dance bars closed.

"Some even alleged that I had made money. I was really amused," Krishna says. He is no stranger to Mumbai, Krishna informs us. His tailor (menswear designing is a passion for Krishna and the kurta that he is wearing today is his own creation) has been living here since 1968, and he has been buying his shoes from the Joy Shoes outlet at the Taj for a long time now.

The food is quite tasty and Krishna looks pleased.

After the hectic life as the chief minister, life in Raj Bhavan is a breeze. He is now busy supervising the laying of a new tennis court at Raj Bhavan and wants the work to be over by October. He usually plays with the employees' children but has given it up temporarily as the humidity is killing. For dessert, Krishna opts for a vanilla ice-cream.

Since he is not willing to talk about his future "public life as it's not proper", we ask him about the other high points of his chief ministership days. "Film star Rajkumar's release," pat comes the answer as any harm to the matinee idol would have jeopardised the lives of the huge Tamil population in Karnataka.

Negotiating with sandalwood smuggler Veerapan through audio tapes also gave him some of the most agonising moments of his life. He couldn't sleep for 108 days (the term of Rajkumar's captivity) and there had been moments when he had given up all hopes.

His wife and two daughters (who are settled in Bangalore) have seen him go through the tension during those days and would love to see him cut down on the work pace. Krishna agrees with them, but only just.

"I feel rested and the Raj Bhawan has given me the opportunity to recoup my spirits," he says as we begin our journey back. The "spirit" is clearly geared up for more than just watching the rains lashing the Arabian Sea.

Additional reporting with Tamal Bandopadhyay and Renni Abraham