Obituary K. P. Narayana Kumar

We record with deep sadness the sudden and untimely demise of K. P. Narayanan Kumar on April 4, 2019 in Cochin. He was a alumnus in the Class 2000, the very first batch of the ACJ, Chennai. Our deepest condolences to his family.

Obit tributes to be posted here may please be sent to


K P Lakshmi

My chubby cheeked brother made the world around him laugh from his early years. His 5th std English teacher remembers him writing summary of the books from the class library for all his classmates without her knowledge as each student got one book at a time and he was a voracious reader. He got a small role initially in the school skit but finally ended up doing the main role as he was the only one confident with the whole script!

His ACJ years gave him everything he longed for. After the entrance results he was one of the borderline entrants not very sure if he would be in or out. After visiting the campus he told me I wish I could just get just one corner to sit in that campus. Sure enough from then to his last breath his ACJ friends and mentors were with him. I feel very proud of this spirit of ACJ that I have seen through the years. My special thanks to Mrs Ommen and Ommen sir whom I was also able to know closely through him.

Thank you so much ACJ. May you bring more writers like him and his batch in the coming years because the world needs more of them!


Raju Narasetti tweeted

“Deeply saddened to hear of the sudden passing of K.P. Narayana Kumar, one of my first hires at Mint in October 2006. KP was one of India’s best reporters on infrastructure, particularly the Indian Railways. After a long journalism career in Delhi, he had moved back to Kerala.”


Binoy Prabhakar, Editor,

P Narayana Kumar, who died much too young on Thursday, was an extraordinary journalist who told important stories by settling on topics often missed in the cacophony of today’s media and enriching them with astounding details.

Take, for example, his story about the Jarawas of the Andamans, in which he underscored the widespread ignorance about the aboriginal tribals and lamented their omission in culture and history. His story about a murder in a Delhi parking lot accentuated the consequences of the unbridled automobile explosion in India’s capital. At, he inferred that the Kerala floods were due to the transformation of a state with abundant natural reserves into one giant city.

Narayana Kumar’s journalism was rooted in the idea of public and human interest. His stories bequeathed in publications such as The Times of IndiaThe Economic Times Magazine, The WeekBusiness StandardForbes and The Mint a distinct character.

Raju Narisetti, the founding editor of Minttweeted that Narayana Kumar’s story in the first edition of the newspaper, “became a memorable one, often cited by people, more than a decade later, for what it came to symbolise — a different newspaper for India”. Brian Carvalho, the former editor of The Economic Times Magazine, never tires of telling me that few journalists could even attempt the stories KP, as he was fondly called, produced.

KP the reporter was an editor’s dream. The copies he produced were clean, sharp and held the reader in thrall. The writing skills apart, he had the high-water mark of an excellent journalist — an abundant sense of wonder, endless curiosity and fascination for topics, a sharp eye for detail, and reservoirs of respect for interviewees. He affected a demeanour and candour that would make people part with tales that they would not with confidants.

KP’s stories were as rich as they were diverse. He could write on infrastructure with the same élan as he would on politics.

I first met Narayan, as I called him, in Thiruvananthapuram at the entrance test for The Asian College of Journalism (ACJ). We cleared it, became friends in the first week, foodies-in-arms the next and brothers soon after.

At ACJ, Narayan provided the first glimpses of the stories he would tell in his distinguished career. Among the many memorable ones was an enquiry into what happened to bodies at a morgue that struggled for electricity supply.

At The Times of India, his first job, he blazed a trail on the crime beat. For most crime reporters, the beat was synonymous with reproduction of statistics — of fraud and gore and deaths.

Narayan was different. He told vital stories, of the protagonists, the unfortunate circumstances and terrible events. He breathed life into stories of death.

Narayan is fondly remembered by many for the passion he brought to work and his interest in a raft of diverse topics, which would spawn endless debates. Besides the unanimous acknowledgement of his journalistic skills, the common thread in all the tributes that poured in after his demise was that he was a great human being.

As our lives intersected for nearly two decades, I knew this side close up. He was lavishly generous.

At Delhi’s ITO, there were two homeless men that Narayan bought meals at least once every day during the nearly three years he worked at ET Magazine. This ritual would be complete only after he fed stray dogs in that street and near his house.

He once caught red-handed a pickpocket who had snatched his wallet. The man told him a sob story about why he took to crime. Without missing a beat, Narayan presented him a Rs 500 note.

Every friend or colleague has at least one tale to recount of Narayan’s generosity. How he would scamper around securing blood for a friend’s parent. How he would accompany a colleague’s relative to hospital. How he would accompany someone to the police station to register a complaint.

At his funeral on Saturday, his mother told me he always placed friends above his family. “That’s who he was. That’s what made him happy,” she said.

You need not have known Narayan to benefit from his big heart. I often saw him stop our commute to help a person hurt in an accident, or vanish to help another who approached him with a tale of agony.

I repeatedly scolded him about parting with money so easily. I did that when his salary would become a frequent source of disquiet because he believed he deserved better due to his fantastic journalism. It played a critical role in his temporary departure from journalism; he resigned from ET Magazine to pursue a career in documentary filmmaking in Kochi two years ago. In his last years, he was the son who stayed and looked after his aged parents.

Thirty-nine is a cruel age to pass away. As a friend noted, journalists write obituaries of subjects they watch from a distance. To write one about a brother is a gut punch. To write about Narayan is heart-wrenching.

I never imagined I would. We were to travel to more places together, discover new foods, become colleagues again, and share new gossip. We were to grow old together.

As his body was taken to the crematorium, a splendid aroma of fish fry filled the air. It was only 10.30 am. The gods decided to give him a fitting farewell.

Farewell, Narayan.


Sukumar Ranganathan, former Mint Editor

“This is is so depressing. He was a lovely boy; and part of the original mallu mafia at Mint,”—


Rahul Chandran, Faculty, Asian College of Journalism

KP as I called him, was that rarest of rare human beings:  he was a genuinely good man. At his funeral, I was speaking to a common friend and former colleague and I was telling him what an injustice it was that a man who was willing and able to tell a good story had to go and the friend remarked that the irony was this injustice should happen to a man who would feel the injustices befalling his fellow man so keenly.

And he proceeded to tell me this story (and I paraphrase):

Apparently he and KP and some others were walking through Delhi’s Connaught Place area when KP felt a hand on his backpocket.

Now, for a big man, KP could be incredibly fast and he caught a man who was in the act of picking his pocket. When caught, the man apparently pleaded poverty and said he had no money. On hearing his story, KP apparently not only let him go, but also gave him Rs500.

I have a lot of KP anecdotes–how could I not? We shared the infrastructure beats in Mint–but that story, I think, encapsulates my friend.

Sharing the same beat must have been annoying for him (for me it was hard) because he had to see someone (me) make heavy weather of a story that he could have written so easily. But then, KP never did envy others stories or their seconds in the limelight.

I think what a former boss said about KP best describes his journalism. In Hindi, after publication of a particularly good investigative story, this boss exulted that you tell KP to cover a straightforward story, he wouldn’t be interested. But if it were a “g*** **********”” (in Hindi) story, then he would be interested.

KP took me under his wings, introduced me to some sources. I do think if he had not, I would have been fired.

Resting on his bier before the final trip to the crematorium, as his friends and family milled around him,  it struck me that I would never again hear that forceful clearing of the throat with which he prefaced  everything he said.

Goodbye dear friend