From standing in queue to carrying his own bags, Manohar Parrikar was the quintessential common man

Manohar Parrikar was the original aam aadmi who rose to become the chief minister. Parrikar's identity in politics, at least for those beyond the state's borders, was firmly established as a man who wore short-sleeved shirts for any occasion, even his son's wed­ding. A man who wore sandals wher­ever he went, even to Parliament, and a man who had no problem hop­ping on the back of a two-wheeler.

The sight of Parrikar riding pillion on a bike being driven by Caetano Silva, later elected MLA of the Benaulim constituency, was pub­lished in all major newspapers and websites in the country. On a high during campaigning for the state as­sembly elections in 2012, Parrikar would hop from one constituency to another, and wherever the roads were narrow, a motorcycle would remain his best bet.

In the capital city of Panaji, from where he was first elected in 1994 and a seat he retained till his death, his commonness was there for all to see. He would have a chat with the local 'poder' (breadman), lend his ear to the fisherwomen and would even ride a bicycle for fun. For many, Parrikar was one of their own.

Despite being the chief minister of the state on four occasions, he remained aam for many. During Parrikar's first stint in office, he was stopped in the middle of the night by local police­men who de­manded to know why he was out so late. According to reports in local newspa­pers at that time, the policemen on nakabandi duty didn't recognise the chief minister. Not their fault. Some­one moving without the red beacon atop his official car, without a police van ahead of him, and seated in the front seat could not be the chief minister. This one was an aam aadmi and deserved to be questioned!

Policemen - whose boss Parrikar was as the home minister - were not the only ones fooled by his simplicity. Even security guards are known to have stopped him while he was entering a fa­mous five-star hotel on the outskirts of the city.

The guard stopped Par­rikar for a routine security check, like everyone else, after he stepped inside without his police escort. A 'hurt' Parrikar re­turned to his vehicle, sum­moned the lone police security officer (PSO) and let it be known to the guard that he was the chief minister of this state.

"My ego was hurt," he admitted during the official function at the ho­tel, which was attended, among others, by the own­er. The poor security guard was worried for his job, but Parrikar told everyone that he was not to be blamed.

At weddings, engage­ments and even parties, Par­rikar never sought special preference. He stood in queues to wish couples at weddings, never hesitated to wait for his turn in line while casting his vote, even as the country's defence minister, and always travelled economy class. He carried his own bags, too.

In Goa, it was easy to spot the Indian Institute of Technology (IIT) graduate. You could find him inside lit­tle-known govern­ment offices where he would pursue a file, or at a local hotel you could be seated next to the table where he was enjoy­ing pao bhaji and mir­chi pakora. Many have seen him eating a fruit platter at a rustic roadside stall in Mapusa and gorging on bhajias during official events.

Not everything that is said, or re­ported, about Parrikar is true though. He did not do his own shopping, walk around the streets of Goa and, cer­tainly, did not drive a Maruti 800 to work. These are pure myths fuelled on social media, but for most part, he showed he was as aam as you and me.