Tributes pour in for India’s beloved former president, APJ Abdul Kalam

Indian prime minister Narendra Modi pays tribute to the former Indian president APJ Abdul Kalam during a wreath laying ceremony at New Delhi airport. Reuters

NEW DELHI // Tributes poured in on Tuesday for one of India’s most beloved presidents, APJ Abdul Kalam, who died on Monday evening at the age of 83.

Kalam, a scientist who served one term as head of state between 2002 and 2007, died of sudden cardiac arrest in the north-eastern city of Shillong, where he was delivering a lecture at an educational institution.

India declared a seven-day period of mourning, as is common for ex-presidents. Kalam’s body was taken to New Delhi on Tuesday morning, where it lay in state through the day. On Wednesday, the body will be taken to Kalam’s hometown of Rameswaram, in the state of Tamil Nadu, for a funeral.

Prime minister Narendra Modi called Kalam “a great scientist, a wonderful President & above all an inspiring individual” in a tribute posted on Twitter late on Monday night.

The UAE President Sheikh Khalifa sent a cable of condolence to Indian president Pranab Mukherjee, as did Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, Vice President and Ruler of Dubai, and Sheikh Mohammed bin Zayed, Crown Prince of Abu Dhabi and Deputy Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces.

Kalam was most noted for his involvement in the development of India’s space and missile-defence programmes. He also played an administrative role in India’s nuclear tests in 1998.

But he achieved his stellar levels of popularity as president, being seen as an approachable, down-to-earth statesman who retained a keen sense of wonder, championed science and classical music, and tried to inspire children to dream big.

With his shock of silver-white hair, Kalam was easily spotted in a crowd – and was often at the centre of one, signing autographs or chatting. In a country where mass adulation is usually reserved for film stars and cricketers, he received roaring ovations whenever he entered a room or lecture hall.

On Tuesday, Indian social media was filled with posts about Kalam, paying tribute to his status as an endearing public figure. An astonishing number of people seemed to have met him personally, remembering even fleeting encounters. Others cited inspiring quotes from his lectures or the more than a dozen books that he wrote, including memoirs, scientific manifestos and motivational titles.

“If you want to shine like a sun, burn like a sun,” one such quote ran. Another said: “Dream, dream, dream. Dreams transform into thoughts, and thoughts result in action.”

Kalam was born into a poor family in Rameswaram. His father was a boatbuilder, and to supplement this income Kalam delivered newspapers.

After completing a master’s degree in aerospace engineering at the Madras Institute of Technology, Kalam went on to work with the state-run Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO) and the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO). He served as the prime minister’s chief scientific adviser between 1992 and 1999, during which time India conducted its second round of nuclear tests.

In 2002, the then Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) government nominated Kalam – who was never associated with the BJP – to be India’s 11th president.

In India, presidents are consensus choices, nominated by the government of the day and then seconded by other opposition parties.

The presidency is largely a ceremonial office, and Kalam made sure that he stayed apolitical and unsullied by rumours of corruption.

His most significant intervention in the political process came in 2006, when parliament tried to pass a bill that allowed members to hold “offices of profit” in other organisations or companies. The bill was controversial, with the potential to create conflicts of interest or avenues for corruption.

Although every bill comes to the president for his formal assent before becoming a law, this rubber-stamp approval is routinely taken for granted. On this occasion, however, Kalam exercised his constitutional right and sent the bill back to parliament, signalling his disapproval by asking that it be amended.

“I had to do it,” he said later in an interview, describing it as “the toughest decision” of his presidency.

Stubbornly, parliament sent the bill back without changes, knowing that the constitution requires the president to approve it on this second iteration. But Kalam refused to sign the bill for two-and-a-half weeks before reluctantly approving it.

While in office, Kalam embarked on an programme of public outreach, bringing the presidency closer to the people and throwing open Rashtrapati Bhavan, the stately presidential residence, to more visitors.

Rupa Prasad, a mother of two who was visiting New Delhi from the United States in 2003, recalled how her daughter Sukanya, then aged five, had passed Rashtrapati Bhavan and wondered if she could go inside to see more of it.

Ms Prasad’s father urged his granddaughter to write the president a letter. “My dad mailed it, and a few weeks later we got an invite from Kalam to [visit] Rashtrapati Bhavan for tea,” she recalled. “It was truly an amazing one-on-one experience meeting him in person for about 30 minutes.”

“He showed the kids pictures of all his missile work,” Ms Prasad said. “Such a humble person. The country has truly lost a great man.”

Although he actively sought a second term, he was not renominated by the next, Congress-led government, so he returned to teaching, his primary love.

Even on the day he died in Shillong, Kalam strode quickly to the lecture hall at the Indian Institute of Management, one his aides, Srijan Pal Singh, wrote in a Facebook post on Tuesday.

“Often he would ask me: ‘You are young, decide what [you would] like to be remembered for,’” Mr Singh said. “I kept thinking of new impressive answers, till one day I gave up and resorted to tit-for-tat. I asked him back: ‘First you tell me, what [would] you like to be remembered for?”

Mr Singh offered Kalam some choices: president, scientist, writer.

“I thought I had made the question easier by giving options, but he sprang on me a surprise. ‘Teacher,’ he said.”