A little past 1 p.m. on June 19, a few police officers stood at attention as a white car drove into the portico of the Government Guest House in Aluva. In the backseat sat the Kerala State Governor Mohammed Arif Khan wearing a beige waistcoat.
As he stepped out, reporters pushed TV microphones towards him. Asked about his views about the higher education segment, the Governor said, “It’s in a mess. People with dubious credentials are being appointed because they bear allegiance to a particular party. As a Chancellor I cannot allow that.”
He said that the sector was heading towards a collapse.
“Kerala is chasing away talent,” said Arif Mohammed Khan. “And you in the media are terrified of taking on the government. You are spineless.”
A reporter bridled at this statement and said a lot of discussions have taken place on air.
“A discussion is different from an editorial stance,” said the governor.
A man standing beside me whispered, “He is telling the truth about education. But since the governor’s term is ending next year, the government will wait patiently.”
The press conference concluded. The governor went up to his room on the first floor. As I stood outside with a copy of my non-fiction book, ‘The Stolen Necklace’, I asked a member of the security personnel about the time when Arif Mohammed had lunch. “He has no fixed time,” said a plainclothes officer.
Soon, I was called in. A standing Arif Mohammed stretched his hand towards a chair and said, “Please sit down.” We sat down and I presented the book. Since the photographer was hovering around, I told the governor we could take the shots first, so that the photographer could leave.
In my many years of doing interviews, the photographer would have to wait till the interaction was over before he got the chance to do his work. On this day, since it was not a journalism-related meeting, I got the photo shoot done at the beginning.
We began talking. Arif Mohammed bemoaned about how Keralites, so intelligent and dynamic, are forced to leave the state because of a lack of opportunities. “In Pune, I met four Keralites who are big industrialists, and they all had to leave Kerala. I met students too, and they said there was no possibility of getting a good education because of the interference of the students’ unions. There are strikes all the time. A two-year course is completed in three years.”
Soon, I spoke about my book. And I ended it by saying, “Sir, I know you prefer reading books on history and biography, but I would request you to read this.”
He read the contents on the back flap and said, “Very interesting. I will definitely read this book.”
In the middle of our conversation, he said, “What would you like to drink?”
I opted for lime juice and immediately he stood up, went to the door, and passed the request.
I always read up about the people I meet. So, I asked him about his experiences as the president of the students’ union of the Aligarh Muslim University (AMU).
His eyes lit up, a smile broke over his face as he spoke fondly about his college days. I mentioned to him that a book on AMU had been written by Times of India senior assistant editor Mohammed Wajihuddin. “Oh yes, I have read the book and I know Mohammed Wajihuddin,” he said.
It was a nice and interesting conversation.
It seemed to me, unlike most politicians, the governor valued an insightful conversation and an exchange of ideas.
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