Khaleej Times
Vaasanthi
He sat like the Buddha, cross-legged for nearly an hour, late in the night on February 7, at the memorial of his dear Amma, the one and only ‘thalaivi’, the supreme leader, on Chennai’s Marina Beach, knowing full well the frantic calculations that were going on all around him for the seat he had occupied and relinquished more than twice. The first two resignations were willingly made to hand back charge of the burden he had borne during his revered leader’s absence. After her demise, he was called upon again to don her mantle, now for real, and he had accepted it with humility and dignity. As the new leader of Tamil Nadu, he had performed his duties with diligence. He’d made trips to Delhi to get permission for an ordinance to bypass the judicial ban on Jallikattu, a traditional bull sport, winning the affection and admiration of the Tamil people and of rival parties as well. He’d gone to Hyderabad for a congenial meeting on the sharing of waters, and promised to visit Alanganallur near Madurai for the occasion of the sport’s revival there.
O Panneerselvam was surveying the ravages of an oil spill along the coast at Ennore when he was called to Poes Garden, the residence of J Jayalalithaa (1948-2016), which the late leader’s long-time associate and friend VK Sasikala had made hers, and was told that Chinnamma-as the latter was now called-was going to be elected Chief Minister in his place by legislators of the All India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (AIADMK). But why now, at a time when the government was dealing with so many issues? The signatures of MLAs had already been collected, he was told, and he had to abdicate again. It was a slap in the face. He was never a rebel, and yet the humiliation was hard to bear. Traumatised by deceit and with no friend to unload his woes, he had decided to go to Amma. She would surely lend him an ear. He was in deep meditation at her burial spot, unaware of the roar of the sea. He had done no wrong and Amma knew it. When he opened his eyes after an hour, he was a changed man. Teary, he prostrated himself full length on the ground, just as he would when she was alive. Did he receive a message from her? Did she tell him, “You were my trusted deputy, do not let the party go to the wolves?” “Raise your voice?”
He did. He emerged from the memorial like a mythical soldier raised from the dead. “I wish to reveal,” he told the waiting press, “that my resignation from the Chief Minister’s post on Sunday in favour of Sasikala was forced.” He said he was not informed in advance of the AIADMK legislators’ decision to elect her as their leader in the Assembly, nor was he kept in the loop about the plan to assume the responsibility that had been his. “I am revealing the truth now motivated by the command I received from Amma’s soul. I shall [therefore] fight till the end, standing alone.”
That was a signal to the Tamil masses, always sentimental about the wishes of the dead, about commitment and loyalty.
