No chance the CM would have survived if his chopper hit Rudrakonda,” said a villager who was trekking along with me deep inside the Nallamalla forest to the Rudrakonda hillock, where the CM’s chopper was reported to have crashlanded. Another forest official echoed his sentiment. “I hope you both don’t have a black tongue,” I remarked as we navigated through difficult, inhospitable terrain.

Another half hour and everyone’s worst fears had come true. “The Home ministry has confirmed YSR is dead,” informed my colleague from the newsdesk in Delhi. My mind went through a flurry of emotions all at once. Muddled yet clearly remembering my first, my last and several, several meetings with Dr Y S Rajasekhara Reddy.

It was sometime in 1996 that I first met YSR at his home. I did not know much about him then but I was impressed with his smart attire. An orange striped shirt and black trousers. Very unlike a regular politician, I remarked then. He smiled.

And that is what will always remain with me about YSR. His handsome smile. And his ability to laugh. In fact, just last week, he took a potshot at his favourite political rival Chandrababu Naidu in the state legislative assembly. “Why are you against people laughing? Is it just because you never laugh?”

Much before he came to power, irked by senior Congressmen from Andhra Pradesh staying put in positions of power, YSR had said politicians should retire by 60. This 8th July, when he turned 60, YSR said people wanted him for a longer innings. Which is why once he realised he had put on weight, every evening, he made it a point to sweat it out at the gym.

I have travelled with YSR on several of his election campaigns. By road through Telangana in 1999, when he was very optimistic that the people of Andhra Pradesh would elect the Congress. The TDP-BJP arithematic did him in and post-1999, YSR was a wiser politician. He had realised the virtue of winning alliances, something he did correctly in 2004 by wooing the Left parties.