The other Rahul Bajaj 

Industrialist and former chairman of Bajaj Group Rahul Bajaj. (Image: Reuters)

I first met Rahul Bajaj as a young reporter covering the Confederation of Indian Industry (CII), and learnt very early on that you had to be on your toes to engage with him. Rahul Bajaj would always have answers to your questions but he could also artfully dodge them, and you had to be ready to parry back. He liked that, and eventually, you could build a relationship with him around smart questions, returning his repartees and being as frank with him as he was to you. But this post is not about that Rahul Bajaj. It's about the other Rahul Bajaj - the man with the human touch.

After a brief stint in India, where I had interacted with him covering both CII and the automobile sector,  I relocated to Singapore. One morning I got a call from a former colleague in India saying the usually vocal Rahul Bajaj, wasn't opening up as much about a story they were chasing, but as it happened, he would be in Singapore as part of a delegation. I was asked to waylay him and get some answers. So I trotted off to the hotel where the delegates were and waited in the lobby. Late in the afternoon, Rahul Bajaj stepped out and as was the plan, I accosted him. He looked at me in surprise and said 'And where have you been? You disappeared months ago.’

I told him I now lived in Singapore and that I had a few specific questions for him. His pace quickened and he headed for the lift, breezily telling me he had no time as his wife was waiting and they had plans. I ran up to the elevator and told him surely he wouldn't mind if I rode the elevator with him; after all, I had only two questions for him. Rahul smiled and said nothing. The elevator ride turned out about him asking me questions. Did I like Singapore? Did I miss India? What did I miss the most? As the elevator dinged on his floor, I was gripped with regret - my time was up and I hadn't got the answers I wanted. I hesitated, staying in as he stepped out of the elevator. He looked back and said, "And what are you doing in there, come meet my wife." A few seconds later, his wife Rupa opened the door and he introduced me to her saying, "she is away from home and misses India". The next thing I knew, I was made to sit down to an elaborate afternoon tea, to which I protested as it felt intrusive. Rahul looked at me and said, "I will answer your two questions. Right now have tea with us and enjoy the feeling of home." He kept his word, and I had my answers.

I lost touch with him as my job took me to London. Nearly a decade had passed since that interaction when I returned to India to help establish Mint. I got in touch with him again, and sought a meeting with him for me and my auto industry reporter. He said he would meet us in Delhi on one of his visits. So we landed up at Taj, where he usually stayed, and waited in the lobby at the appointed hour. Calls to his phone and his room went unanswered. After about 30 minutes of waiting, he finally called back and said, "I'm sorry my phone was on silent. I was doing a TV interview that overran. You both had better come up because I need to eat and I have just ordered my food." I told him we would wait but he said he would be off after lunch and so he wouldn't have time. As soon as the introductions were over, he thrust the menu towards my reporter and said, "don't seek permission from your boss, young man, just order what you want. I know she will politely say no". Amid my protestations, he turned to me and said, "And you better order something too because I am not going to sit here and eat alone while you both are left watching." We ordered coffee to give him company and he chatted for a while, making it clear only his son Rajiv would talk about Bajaj Auto since he ran it now. After that, my interactions with him remained short fleeting ones when I would bump into him at large events. The rules were very clear - for company-related news, Rajiv was the go-to. 

A few years later, I ran into him while I was working with NDTV. I was in Bajaj's Akurdi office, standing in the lobby, admiring the giant M.F. Husain which cascades down two floors. He piped in from behind in his booming voice,

"What are you doing eyeing my painting?"

"It is too large to fit into my pocket, so unfortunately it will stay on the wall," I retorted.

He laughed out aloud. I told him I was there for a TV interview with Rajiv and my crew was setting up the cameras in the meeting room. He looked at his watch. It was well past lunch hour. "Have you eaten? Have the crew eaten something?" I deflected the question. He responded with an even more pressing one. "The canteen food may be over, should I call home and ask them to send you all something to eat? What will you have?" I kept a straight face and lied. "We have eaten, we really have." 

We chatted for a bit longer about policy and politics and then he went off and I returned to the room for the interview. A few minutes later, a few trays laden with biscuits and tea arrived. Rahul Bajaj wasn't one to give up. 

And so he stays in my memory as the man who had his way with whom I had feisty arguments, but who always won with his generosity, humour, candidness and fairness. I will miss him for just being him and for his humaneness as we all mourn his loss.

Also read: Rahul Bajaj: “Tough on the outside, soft inside”