A stalwart of his times

Ankush Kakade, former mayor of Pune who now holds the reins of the Maharashtra Sahakari Mudranalay after Narubhau, says, “He would come to the press at 9.30 a.m. sharp and then go through the newspapers. If any article sparked his interest, he would immediately cut it out and action would begin. If it was political, he would send photocopies to relevant people – it could even be Atal Bihari Vajpayee! At times, when something moved him, he would immediately dash off letters. Or then just reach for the phone and give vent to his opinions. Once, I remember him taking out more than 300 photocopies of one clipping.”

The resurrection of the Maharashtra Sahakari Mudranalay, popularly called the Aryabhushan Press, was courtesy Narubhau. He had been a good 80 plus when he took over the affairs of this rundown press, about nine years back, and almost like a magician, breathed life into it. Losses turned into profits, lacklustre staff turned motivated and piles of misery turned into piles of printing orders.

Chandrashekhar Satpute, assistant general manager of the press, provides insights into the secret behind his Abba’s (as they called Narubhau) success story. “Abba was very quality-conscious and always wanted to deliver the best within the given limitations. He would scold us if we made mistakes but always weighed the seriousness of those mistakes. If after a day he felt he had unnecessarily been harsh, he made it a point to say sorry. That was his greatness. He did not know much about computers but was magnanimous enough to take our advice and abide by our decisions in this sphere. That’s where his success emerged from,” says Satpute. And, of course, he had good contacts, through whom he garnered enough printing orders and worked to the schedule, in true professional spirit.

He had a fixed routine. States Kakade, “After office, between 9.30 and noon, he would rest in the afternoon and then head for the Deccan Gymkhana Club to play bridge – something he never missed.”

Home, for him, was Dilip Punde’s, his friend’s son, who had been looking after him like a son since the last two decades. Here, too, his self-discipline and amiable nature were evident. Says Asha, Dilip’s wife, who was devoted to him, “He was very particular about his routine. He would be ready even before his private auto-rickshaw came to fetch him to the press. He hated to keep the driver waiting. He was choosy about his food and never overate. He loved my daughters – Vrushali and Avanti – and at home, his life revolved around them.”

That is not far from the truth. Every time the girls won a painting competition, he would ring this writer up to ensure that something about it appeared in the children’s page. Such requests were just exceptions. For he was not one to use his name and influence to provide unjustified benefits to his family.

He was also a respected public figure in Maharashtra and leading political personalities shared an excellent rapport with him. Dilip recalls an interesting incident. “About three years back, I was going on my scooter near Shani Par, when a bus came hurtling down from the wrong side. I was furious, so I halted my scooter before the bus and began arguing with its driver. The police intervened and a police complaint was filed.”

After returning home, Dilip narrated the story to Narubhau. The next day, Dilip was summoned to the Vishrambaug Police Station. Says an amused Dilip, “I walked in confidently and wasn’t I surprised when the first thing I was told, in no uncertain terms, was to produce my driving licence. I did not have one. Abba had taken strong objection to that and had wanted me to learn a lesson.” The cop present there told Dilip how lucky he was to have someone like Narubhau guide him.

On another occasion, their pet dog went missing. Dilip remembers how Narubhau walked into the Sakal office and put in an advertisement along with the dog’s picture. This helped them find their pet. “Before that, he even went around in the rickshaw through many roads, in case he could locate the dog.”

Narubhau never distinguished between rich and poor or between colleagues in the press. Recalls Prakash Bhoite, his long-time personal assistant, “He was very caring about his staff. If any worker or his family member fell ill, he would unfailingly enquire about them. Often, he would speak to his doctor and tell him to send in the free samples that doctors get to treat the concerned person.”

Bhoite also states warmly how “during tours, he treated the driver with respect. When we’d stop for a meal, he would admonish the driver if he sat on a different table. He would make him sit near him. Until three years back, he would tour frequently. It was only after a minor accident, while going in a Sumo to Ambejogai, when he was hit on the chest, that he stopped touring.”

Arvind Bogade, the driver who religiously steered him through Pune’s congested traffic, recalls, “I used to ferry him to the press in the morning. At around 4 p.m., I’d drop him at the club, pick him up around 6.40 p.m. and then head for Sambhaji Park, where he would have fresh coconut water. That was mandatory, almost a tonic for him. And if his hunger had not been satiated, we’d eat sandwiches, bakarwadis, pineapple pastries or sukki bhel – depending on his mood. What he loved most was to sit in tranquility at the park’s Aksharmitra Vachanalay.”

The employees of the press are eternally grateful for his noble gesture of constructing 80 houses, through minimal interest loans, say Yashwant Dhanve and Suryakant Taru. “It was a dream come true for us, thanks to Abba’s vision. Many of us used to stay in slums but now we have the Mananiya Narubhau Limaye Nagar. We remember how opposed he was to putting his name but we insisted.”

Narubhau never let generation gaps rule his life. He was miles ahead in his thoughts. And as his actions amply prove – if you have the will, you live life to the fullest. Age is no bar.