Malavalli Hucche Gowda Amarnath, aka Ambareesh, who went gently into that good night on November 24th was a man of many parts. Actor, politician, philanthropist, mediator, original thinker, drinking buddy…these were some of the colorful roles he essayed in a lifespan of just 66 years, but boy did he cram a lot into those years. One of his most remarkable attributes is that he defied classification; he was not someone who could be slotted conveniently into a box or category. Ambareesh was all bark and no bite, full of sound and fury, yet tempered with kindness and generosity that very few could match. Above all, in a country where kissing up and kicking down is the norm, he had the grace, courage and good taste to do just the opposite. Daily wage workers, estate labour, syces, drivers, gardeners and cooks were the primary beneficiaries of his warmth, good humour and deep pockets, while many bigwigs were at the receiving end of his pungent sense of humour.
I first met him quite by chance on the golf course and rather brashly asked him to propose me for membership to the Turf Club. To my surprise, he readily agreed and when someone had the temerity to question why he was extending his support to an unknown no-hoper and, by default, neglecting some of his own community members who were in the electoral fray, he dealt with the critic in trademark Ambianna style. “Ay, loafer nan maggine, I am not born to my mother if I change my promise. Don’t talk to me all these caste and community issues. Once I have given word, that is all, hogo.”Ambi’s loyalty was legendary: last week he came straight from dialysis to the Turf Club EGM where he spoke eloquently on behalf of his buddies facing expulsion on a series of trumped-up charges. He displayed true friendship, regardless of the cost.
On another occasion, I was enjoying a hearty breakfast of idlis with mutton chops at his J.P Nagar home the day after he switched his allegiance from the Janata Dal to the Congress. A young lady journalist asked him whether his decision would be viewed as “opportunistic” and Ambi was quick to respond. “Madam, why these big, big words...what is that, opportunistic? My friend here is also journalist, ay langdakuthre, tell some big words, man. Madam, please read all party manifestoes, same fellow is writing them, what do they tell? We are going to knock down Masjid, give Mercedes to every home. No never, maybe Maruti 800. Sumne joke, madam, talleketskobeda. I am in politics because I love the people and the people love Ambareesh. See, all these party badges are simply labels, like Nike and Adidas. Same shoes, depends how fast you can run.”
Despite serving as Union Minister of State from 2006-08 and as Housing Minister in Karnataka, he was unable to make much of an impact due to his distaste for the manipulative wheeling and dealing that is part and parcel of our politics. In private, he expressed a deep frustration with the way the system was structured and how public funding was squandered with the benefits rarely reaching the poor. He was an excellent judge of character; while he enjoyed portraying a rustic, Mandyada Gandu image, he was a shrewd thinker who relished the cut and thrust of debate. Unusually for a politician, he retained the ability to appreciate a nuanced argument. In a world of smoke and mirrors, where doublespeak is the norm, Ambi was a breath of fresh air with his bold, colorful turn of phrase.
Rajnikanth summed it up best when he said, “He lived like a king till the day he died and all he earned were people.” Forget enemies, his friends spanned various factions in politics and films; he was a superb mediator who excelled at dispute resolution. All we have to remember him by are the fragile cobwebs of memory but Ambareesh is one of those rare human beings, a rebel star who will continue to shine brightly in our remembrance and recollection for years to come.
