A mixture of distinction and charm was the keynote to Nehru's presence, be it in parliamentary debate, or around his dining table, or on such banal occasions as presenting prizes or laying foundation stones.
He was a master of the art of saying nothing of substance to his interlocutors if need be and yet of leaving them feeling unoffended or even flattered. On occasions he heightened his charm by flashes of wit unexpected in a man often serious to the point of greyness, and on occasions even by funny stories.
Once I heard him ask a foreign visitor, who was a little dashed by the Indian practice of eating with one's fingers, whether he knew what a Shah of Persia had said: The Shah found eating with a fork like making love through an interpreter. (Nehru himself always ate with a knife and fork.)
Most people found Nehru captivating. I certainly did. When in his presence I usually found it necessary to keep jolting myself back into detachment.
During the years I knew him, in his sixties and early seventies, Nehru worked seven days a week. He rose at dawn, or even earlier, took exercise, including yogic asanas, and including for some years the dubious exercise of standing on his head.
He sometimes went horse-back riding. He used to be fond of swimming in earlier years. It was only after seventy that the yogic exercises were given up or curtailed. After bathing he used to prepare his own breakfast, which was frugal, though latterly it was being prepared for him.
Image: Nehru with America's then First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy.
Buy Nehru, A Contemporary's Estimate by Walter Crocker
Also see: The death of Nehru's India
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