<B>By Professor J. Manrakhan</B>

“Old guards never die, they simply fade away?” This song from WWI applies particularly well in the case of a grand commander, deputy prime minister, minister (Agriculture, Education, Economic Development, External Affairs), knight, doctor of Civil law honoris causa, politician, party leader, diplomat, public servant, who passed away on 23rd March 2006 at the age of 85.

Satcam Boolell was once described as “most handsome” by an eminent financial expert. Other critics were less kind (possibly in consequence?): “lazy”, “spineless”, “sans ambition”, “sans vision”, “habitual waverer” – and many other epithets in a similar vein. What will be the verdict of the moving finger of history? It could be as profound as simply describing him as a buccaneering spirit boldly setting sail to board and help found Mauritian “New Labour” from an obsolete, familiar, “Old Labour” ship leaking perilously – here and elsewhere. And he started more as a centre-right Fabian socialist than anything else, whatever labels he might have worn or been stuck with.

Lazy and without vision? And yet, it was at his express request that the University of Mauritius at the turn into the 1980’s, held a ‘solid’ national seminar to map out a strategy for agricultural diversification, which was to last the country till the advent of the World Trade Organisation began to reshape the future into the 21st century. And yet who chaired, and inspired, that seminar, shirt-sleeved, day in and day out, mobilising all interests: someone lazy and sans vision?

Spineless? Not to those harassed officials who had to efficiently quell riotous prisons without bloodshed and undue grievous bodily harm, and who came to appreciate how even an acting prime minister could act swiftly, tactfully and yet forcibly.

Not ambitious and wavering? Those who had the occasion to hear him pouring his soul bare at a cocktail function not calculated for that purpose, will readily accept to differ. Here was someone who knew exactly what loyalty was and where his central duty resided; he would never waver in any way. Instead in his masterly way he steered a noble course to save his party and its future from the dustbin of oblivion.

That man had charisma. Ever seen a ministry corridor, packed with an irate, despondent, political crowd howling away in his absence and yet coming away still empty-handed, but full of hope after he had appeared to soothe them with his considerable communication skills? That was one of his regular feats, which never ceased to amaze independent observers.

Did he have any regrets in an overfull life? Perhaps not to have become prime minister? Quite possibly, although his sense of loyalty and national purpose would have precluded him from scheming towards that aim were he to have deemed the social and societal repercussions as over costly. Or, was he more interested in that other pinnacle, the one at Le Réduit? This would have been nearer the mark, a fitting ending to an exemplary career. And yet, had he achieved that, what enthralling Untold Stories might we not have missed? Did you know that when his political and other duties became too taxing, he would relax with a book or two of poetry? And did you also know how much care he took to crosscheck his own writings?

It seems as if it was only yesterday he was strolling around supermarkets, hailing friends and exchanging greetings with acquaintances, his mind busy with newspaper articles to be crafted, interviews to be arranged and social events to look towards, health permitting.

Let us quote from one of his favourite poets, Omar Khayyam, in The Rubaiyat, discerning scents, love and beauty along with subtle mystical philosophy, all sublimely blended in what he found to be richly satisfying:

The Moving Finger writes; and having writ,

Moves on: not all your Piety nor Wit.

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line.

Nor all your tears wash out a Word of it.

Yes, history will confound his critics, while, from afar, he will continue to guide his party and country, having crafted a most suitable transition, from Old to New.

It is now time to end with the Bhagavad Gita (6.19) as he becomes

“ …… a lamp whose light is steady, for it burns in a shelter where no winds come.”