“Noorani Saheb was a rare breed. In his intellectual honesty, his fearlessness, his strong character, and the peculiarities of his behaviour, he was one of a kind. Whatever he spoke or wrote, he said with conviction and courage, not caring about the consequences.”
Anuradha Bhasin*
A.G. Noorani, or Noorani Saheb, as I called him, passed away on August 29, 2024, in Bombay, leaving behind an enduring legacy of rigorous scholarship that exists in the form of books and his regular columns – rich in detail and insightful.
He was best known for his work on constitutionalism, legal matters, and politics with a particular focus on India, Pakistan and China. He also authored ‘Kashmir Dispute: 1947-2012’ in two volumes (which he dedicated to Mridula Sarabhai) and Article 370: A Constitutional History of Jammu and Kashmir.
Kashmir was not only an important part of his erudite research, it occupied a special place in his heart and he championed the cause of democracy, human rights, and liberty for the region in many of his books and articles.
Some Early Reflections
Even before I could read and understand his writing, Noorani Saheb was a familiar face and name, owing to my father’s (Ved Bhasin) friendship with him since the late 1950s. I have no idea how they met. It was probably due to the Kashmir conspiracy case, in which Noorani Saheb represented Sheikh Abdullah as a lawyer, that brought them in touch.
The association remained, kindled not just by similar intellectual interests but also because of the mutual admiration both of them had for each other’s unwavering commitment to democratic values, peace, justice, and civil liberties. Noorani Saheb was a rare blend of intellectualism and courage. A fervent defender of constitutionalism, civil liberties, and minority rights, he spoke and wrote fearlessly.
When I was still in school, I was unaware of such admirable qualities. Yet, he was someone you could hold in awe. A thorough gentleman, immaculately and elegantly dressed in a suit and a tie, his refined greetings and his confidence conveyed that he was extraordinary. When he spoke, it was an ocean of insightful knowledge and wisdom that oozed out. He spoke with authority and others around him listened.
It was much later that I could understand the actual import of the wisdom that he spread out in his columns and books. His valuable research and perspectives on Kashmir and the South Asian region, his in-depth study of the Hindutva and RSS’ majoritarianism and constitutionalism helped shape my insights.
Some notable works on Hindutva include The RSS: A Menace to India, The RSS: Savarkar and Hindutva, The Trials of Bhagat Singh: Politics of Justice, The RSS and the BJP: A Division of Labour, and The Babri Masjid Question, 1528–2003 – A Matter of National Honour. For those, who want to understand the phenomenon better, they are all a must-read.
He was also a great crusader for press freedoms. When Iftikhar Gilani, then the bureau chief of Kashmir Times, was arrested in 2002, he wrote profusely against the unjustified incarceration.
Through the long months that Iftikhar remained in prison, Noorani Saheb continued to follow the case and inquire about his family. He would often call up to know only keep abreast of the latest developments in his case but also to remind me, “I am glad Kashmir Times has stood by him but don’t forget to call up Anisa (Iftikhar’s wife). She’s very brave and must not be left alone.”
I found in him a sensitivity that he rarely displayed in public.
Two Passions in Life
A bachelor till his end, Noorani Saheb had only two passions in life – writing and food. In both, he was a stickler for accuracy.
He would spend a lot of time collecting documents and subscribing to all major newspapers, journals, and magazines in South Asia including from Kashmir.
Since normal mail delivery could be erratic, every week, our office would courier the copies of Kashmir Times to him till the newspaper’s print edition was published.
He preserved cuttings of everything relevant to his work. He went the extra mile – reaching out to people, visiting institutions, libraries, and archives to hunt for historic documents, and reports. His house in Bombay was a repository of some of the rarest publications and papers. He studied each carefully. In research, he had an eye for detail which he brilliantly found in some of the most insignificant events and documents. Nothing escaped his forensic scrutiny.
He was as much a perfectionist when it came to food. It had to be flawless and precise in its raw or cooked form. Several years ago, while we were attending a Panos South Asia conference in Cambodia, at the breakfast table he gave me an orientation class on the perfectness of dragon fruits and mangosteins.
During the many times, I met him, I noticed he could sometimes be hard to please when it came to his gastronomical sense. In Srinagar, we went on a treasure hunt for the perfect walnuts and Kashmiri pickle. At the Bangkok airport, we went up and down the corridors looking for a coconut kiosk that would crack open the coconut for him to scoop out its creamy flesh after the juice had been sipped to the last drop.
At one restaurant, when the fish curry was out of line with his taste, he had the chef subtract and add at least six different ingredients. Inside a plane, when the air hostess announced that she had run out of non-vegetarian meals, he said, “I’m a strict anti-vegetarian”. A flustered air hostess went up and down the aisle and finally managed to dig out the meal of his choice.
Strong Likes and Dislikes
His punctiliousness was not restricted to food. He was just as picky about the people he befriended. Whether he was dismissive of their intellectual honesty or frivolous things as the way they dressed, many people made it to his blacklist. He was a man of strong likes and dislikes and made his boundaries known, refusing to as much as exchange polite courtesies.
Often, during our conversations in person, he would ask for opinions on personalities who would crop up in the conversations. I always thought it was a test and carefully worded my opinion. He would smile and then proclaim his own judgment, almost jumping with joy when my take had matched his.
There were few people he admired and spoke about them with great fondness. Siddharth Varadarajan, The Wire’s founding editor, who wrote a beautiful tribute to him, was one of them. The last I met Noorani Saheb, he observed, “Siddharth is a very dear friend but I am angry with him for leaving the Hindu, and print media.”
I argued that https://thewire.in was doing a great service to journalism. He brushed my protestations aside. “Digital media cannot be what print medium is,” he said.
A Room Full of Papers
Despite his intellectual thoughts and his liberal views, he was stuck in a time warp when it came to technology. Leave alone the use of smartphones, computers, and the internet, he had never even used a typewriter.
Every word of his that went to print was first handwritten on sheaves of paper over a clipboard. Inside his long and narrow, train-like, library, flanked on both sides by shelves carrying books and papers from the floor to the bottom, he would sit in the middle of the room, on a rocking chair, a small old, worn-out wooden desk in the front, and write.
I have no idea how kind this was to this posture and back. But that’s the way he always worked.
A stenographer, who had been working with him for years, would come regularly to type what he had written, in the most ineligible handwriting, word by word, almost without a flaw. Noorani Saheb would re-read the typed manuscript and mark corrections before his articles or books were sent for print.
“God bless the stenographer who can read your handwriting,” I once told him jokingly and he smiled. He rarely smiled. The usual grumpy look on his face was part of his persona.
I last met him in October 2019 in that room with windows that faced the sea line, blocked by an erratic array of concrete skyscrapers. “You can hardly see the sea now. But it’s still lovely to let the breeze sneak in from the windows,” he said.
I peered at the files and papers all around and curiously asked, “Is this where you store all the newspaper clippings and documents?”
“Each one,” he said, adding that he remembered exactly what was where. He told me to reach out for a file. There were handwritten notes on the Armed Forces Special Powers Act. Years ago, I had helped him find documents and reports related to Panchalthan’s staged encounter. He was planning to write a book.
“What about the book you were planning to write,” I asked. He answered, “he was continuing the research.” His rigour in research and patience was remarkable. He could spend years investigating something, but the final product had to be accurate to the last detail.
I wonder what happened to his work on the book. Did he ever complete the manuscript or is the work loosely contained in those files? His research would have been so valuable.
Right now, my memory goes back to the beautiful hours I spent with him that day, listening to his many anecdotes.
“This is my favourite place,” he said over a feast of lamb biryani served with a range of chutneys and raita in the centre of the room. The library worked as a makeshift dining room. We savoured the biryani and he spoke about people, his family, brother, and his favourite nieces fondly.
We discussed politics and Kashmir. His articles on the revocation of Article 370 are brilliant and authoritative.
I asked him about the future of Kashmir. He responded, “Anuradha, I can tell you that Kashmir’s immediate future looks bleak…” He paused momentarily and then thoughtfully continued, “…..but, you know what,…. I have decided to fight.”
Almost touching ninety then, hobbling around with a walking stick and mostly confined to his house, I looked at him in awe. Nothing could have been more inspiring and reassuring than those words.
Noorani Saheb was a rare breed. In his intellectual honesty, his fearlessness, his strong character, and the peculiarities of his behaviour, he was one of a kind. Whatever he spoke or wrote, he said with conviction and courage, not caring about the consequences.
For anyone seeking knowledge, he lives on till posterity in the rich body of work he leaves behind. For some of us, his life and words will also remain inspiring.
*Anuradha Bhasin is Managing Editor of Kashmir Times.
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