Essay On My Favourite Leader Nehru Suit

India Today Editorial Director M J Akbar One morning at breakfast, in 1958, Jawaharlal Nehru, then 69

India Today Editorial Director M J Akbar
One morning at breakfast, in 1958, Jawaharlal Nehru, then 69, told his private secretary M.O. Mathai, quite out of the blue, that he would not live beyond the age of 74. Mathai notes in his autobiography My Days with Nehru that he wondered if the modern and scientific prime minister had finally succumbed to the lure of astrologers. Nehru replied, perhaps with an unreported chuckle, that he had merely calculated the average age of men in his family and found that it was 74 years, six months and 13 days. Intimations of mortality had begun to seep into the consciousness of the leader who would be memorably remembered after his death, in a tribute in Parliament, by the CPI MP Hiren Mukherjee as "the gentle colossus".
Nehru sits at the doorway of the Banteay Srei temple in Cambodia, 1954.
Nehru was among the leaders through most of his public life, which began in 1919 when he joined Mahatma Gandhi's first and most impressive challenge to the British Empire, the satyagraha movement. He grew gradually into a hero when, as free India's first prime minister through the dream decade of the 1950s, he transformed a country into a democratic and modern nation, winning the love of his people and admiration of the world. Pakistan, interestingly, offered a template of what could go wrong as its politicians destroyed one another and finally surrendered to their armed forces in the grey gloom of constitutional anarchy. Nehru, in contrast, had piloted, along with Dr B.R. Ambedkar, a model Constitution, led his party to triumph in two exemplary general elections and then announced that power was not his only ambition in life. On April 29, 1958, the Congress Parliamentary Party met in an environment of unprecedented crisis. Nehru wanted permission from his party to resign. He had already told president Rajendra Prasad his reasons. Fatigue. Forty years of public service had been exhilarating, he told his fellow MPs, but he now wanted a respite from "this daily burden" to do "some quiet thinking" and return to "myself as an individual citizen of India and not as prime minister". This colossus was human.
Pandit Nehru and grandchildren Sanjay and Rajiv looking into a pool, 1948.
And human enough to be persuaded to change his mind. As one Congress MP archly remarked, Jawaharlal wanted time to think about how to save the world from the hydrogen bomb, but had no compunctions about dropping a hydrogen bomb on the Congress. When the Congress rejected his offer to resign, letters of congratulation and relief came from both Dwight Eisenhower in Washington and Nikita Krushchev in Moscow. Nonalignment was working somewhere!

Thirteen years of Nehru's transition from youth to middle age were spent in British jails, many of them ratinfested and all of them depressing. His anger was restricted to British rule, never to the British; his friendship with the last viceroy and his wife, Lord and Lady Mountbatten, which flowered in the Fifties, is the stuff of history and gossip. When India became free of viceroys, he placed a gold statuette of Gandhi and a model of the hand of Lincoln on his desk, and set to work. On January 30, 1948, the light went out of his, and India's, life when the Mahatma was assassinated. By 1950, the pillar of his administration, Sardar Patel, was gone as well. Maulana Azad (Nehru translated the Maulana's stirring presidential address at the Ramgarh Congress session in 1940) seemed to have lost heart after he lost the war within his own community to preserve the unity of India. Nehru was alone. Nehru may have been only the first among equals when he became prime minister, but after 1952 there was no equal in his Cabinet.

Albert Einstein, Princeton University professor, bids goodbye to his guest Nehru, 1949.
In 1937 Nehru wondered, in a self-parody that was not quite a parody, whether he would ever mutate from democrat to Caesar, perhaps even a fascist who had used socialism to fatten his ambition and then abandoned his avowed principles. He remembered some famous lines: "I drew these tides of men into my hands/And wrote my will across the sky in stars..." All over the post-colonial world, famous peers abandoned accountability and set themselves up as lifelong dictators. But Nehru wrote the will of his nation across the sky and anchored India to tides of world peace, not world war.
Nehru with Jacqueline Kennedy at the White House, 1961.
During the Fifties Nehru laid the framework of domestic and foreign policy through the core of his concerns and substance of his passions. He calmed the Hindu-Muslim conflagration that had sliced India with a scalpel, even as he confronted and reversed Pakistan's invasion of Kashmir. His economic programme was socialist without being Marxist: in the heat of an election campaign in Kerala he could question both the patriotism and intelligence of communists.

He committed Government and Congress to planned development that had elimination of poverty and industrialisation of India as its primary objectives. He was also the intellectual fountainhead of a post-colonial concept in international relations that established equality and peace as basic principles and institutionalised a coalition of countries into the Non-Aligned Movement. He was what no Indian had ever become, a world leader. Norman Cousins, the famous American editor of the Saturday Review, reported that at the historic Bandung conference in 1956, delegates might have been impressed by Chou en Lai, but they believed in Nehru.

Nehru addressing a crowd during a visit to Colombo, 1957.
After the Suez war that same year, a Pakistani poet, Rais Amrohvi, wrote in the Urdu paper Jung: "Jap raha hai aaj mala ek Hindu ki Arab/Barhamanzade mein shaan-e dilbari aisi to ho. Hikmate-e Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru ki kasam/Mar mitey Islam jis par kafiri aisi to ho." Nehru challenged the language of tradition, calling steel mills and dams the temples of modern India. It is fashionable now to sneer at the public sector, but the private sector in the Fifties had not matured to the point where it could raise and risk the capital needed for collaborations of the size of Bhilai or Durgapur. These were new cities being created, not just factories. Tata's private steel plant at Jamshedpur was an exception created by the genius of Jamsetji. Nehru created IITs to provide the intellectual ballast for forward momentum; the silhouette of 21st century India began to emerge on the near horizon.

A Malayali scholar-statesman-soldier born some three centuries before Christ, named Vishnugupta but more familiar to us as Chanakya, would have been content with the achievements of this son of India. Nehru always aspired to the "best qualities of the king" as enumerated in the Arthashastra: "Born of a high family, godly, possessed of valour, seeing through the medium of aged persons, virtuous, truthful, not of a contradictory nature, grateful, having large aims, highly enthusiastic, not addicted to procrastination, powerful to control his neighbouring kings, of resolute mind, having an assembly of ministers of no mean quality and possessed of a taste for discipline-these are the qualities of an inviting nature." He even met a subsidiary Chanakya demand, the ability to make "jokes with no loss of dignity or secrecy". He enjoyed fancy dress parties, and once told Mridula Sarabhai, who wore handspun unisex clothes like salwar-kameez, to "come dressed like a woman, for a change!" Former president S. Radhakrishnan commented that it was very good for the country that Nehru could laugh.

Nehru releases a dove on his 65th birthday in Delhi, 1954.
But Jawaharlal ignored one Chanakya warning: the threat from neighbouring kings. Perhaps he forgot that India had two neighbours who could turn hostile. Nehru was ready for Pakistan's war. In a remarkable letter to Sardar Patel in September 1947, he detailed Pakistan's plans for Kashmir as if he had been briefed by Karachi. Nehru's brilliant decision to invite Mountbatten to stay on as governor-general and then make him chairman of the Cabinet's defence committee, paid off handsomely when Pakistan tried to seize the Valley through armed raiders in October 1947. India and Pakistan had been given Dominion status, and British officers in their armies continued to check with London.

They were ready to obey Mountbatten in India, but not Jinnah in Pakistan in the first and decisive phase of the Kashmir war. The merits of the ceasefire line established on January 1, 1949, will continue to invite controversy, but time has proved beyond doubt that this Nehru line is a strategic marker that has been accepted internationally as the real border. Over six decades that line has not shifted, in material terms, by six inches. Neither did Nehru permit sentiment to interfere with national security when he dismissed Sheikh Abdullah in 1953.

Experience taught him to limit his trust in the Muslim League; his vaulting idealism persuaded Nehru that he could trust China beyond the prudence offered by evidence. Perhaps Nehru should have resigned in 1958; his chapter would have glistened in the history of India. His Himalayan blunder shattered Indian self-confidence; he himself never recovered, even physically. He aged. Caesars, I have written in my biography of Nehru, should die suddenly. A slow death hypnotises them. They cannot fight the inevitable, but will not surrender easily either. Within 15 months of October 1962, Nehru suffered a massive stroke at the Bhubaneswar AICC; five months later, the end came. He was just over 74.

Nehru was not totally immune from astrologers. In 1959, after much persistence, his Cabinet colleague Gulzarilal Nanda introduced him to a certain Haveli Ram Joshi, a refugee from Gujranwala. Joshi explained that he had obtained a copy of the Arun Samhita from a Pathan on the Frontier who was selling it as junk, and amazed Nehru with political forecasts based on the ancient text, including the war with China. Haveli Ram told Nehru that there was one prediction he could do nothing about: the prime minister would die on May 27, 1964.

Nehru is now public property to be remembered when convenient and forgotten when expedient.The laboured litanies of homage on their anniversaries are supremely ironic: modern India is guilty not of forgetting its founders but of not remembering them well and correctly.The issue discusses Nehru's ideas, vision and legacy.What has been the fate of his institutions and his ideas, his programmes and his policies? Has India moved ahead on the path he charted? Have his ideas stood the test of two decades without him? These are not questions that can any longer be left to the future, for only their answers,a stocktaking, no less, will pull India back from the wilderness into which it seems headed.
Twenty Years After: A Troubled Legacy
By Suman Dubey, June 15, 1984

Six months before the China war Nehru gave an interview to Taya Zinkin, correspondent of the Manchester Guardian. When asked what he considered his greatest achievement, Nehru did not mention the freedom of India. It was the Hindu Code Bill, which freed Hindu women from the shackles of a law that permitted polygamy and denied inheritance. Nehru had overcome opposition from his own President to pass that legislation, in stages, through a difficult Parliament. Taya Zinkin asked why Nehru had not ensured similar legislation for Muslim women. The political climate, said Nehru, was not right. The climate has not changed.As his life entered the shadows, succession became a talking point. Norman Cousins posed the question for an interview published in the May 27, 1961 issue of the Saturday Review. Nehru's reply was crisp: "This business of picking an individual successor is something I find quite alien to my way of thinking. I am not trying to start a dynasty." Death is not without its ironies.

Mathai narrates a wonderful anecdote. Nehru's favourite tailor was Muhammad Umar, whose shops were destroyed in the Partition riots. The prime minister helped restore his business and a grateful Umar put up a proud sign: "Tailor to the Prime Minister". Umar's son, who had migrated to Karachi, put up exactly the same sign in his establishment. Mathai asked Umar whether such a claim helped in Pakistan. Umar retorted, "Sahib, Panditji is a bestseller anywhere."

No colossus could ask for a finer epitaph.

- The author is the editorial director of INDIA TODAY

HISTORY, UNDER BJP rule, has developed a surprising tendency to dominate our national discourse. Not only has Indian history increasingly become ‘ground zero’ in the battle of narratives between Hindutvavadis and pluralists, it is being wielded as the BJP’s weapon of choice against the Congress.

Prime Minister’s Narendra Modi’s excoriating speech in the Lok Sabha on February 7th, in which he blamed the Congress Party and Jawaharlal Nehru for the Partition of India and the continuing Kashmir dispute, is the latest example of the ruling party’s invocation of historical facts to debate the political present. In the process, Modi exalted his own hero, Sardar Patel, as the man who, had he been put in charge of the country, would have prevented Partition and stopped the loss of territory in Kashmir.

This is not altogether surprising. For some years now the BJP—which, led by the Prime Minister, has sought to drape itself in a proprietary mantle of nationalism—has been seeking to appropriate the freedom struggle for itself. The complication is that the political cause to which the BJP is heir—embodied in the Jana Sangh, the RSS, and the Hindutva movement—had no prominent freedom fighter of its own during the nationalist movement. The BJP traces its origin to leaders who were not particularly active during the struggle for independence.

The lack of direct sources of inspiration means that people like Modi have to look for role models elsewhere. Modi’s favourite instrument is the doughty Congressman Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, one of India’s most respected Founding Fathers, the original ‘Iron Man’ of India and a Gujarati to boot. Adopting Patel as his hero and denigrating Nehru serves two purposes: it places an authentic freedom fighter on the BJP’s side in a contemporary retelling of history and seeks to push the Congress, led by a Nehru scion, on the defensive.

The process had already begun, lest we forget, when then Chief Minister Modi moved aggressively to lay claim to the legacy of Patel before the 2014 General Election. In his quest to garb himself in a more distinguished lineage than his party can ordinarily lay claim to, Modi called on farmers across India to donate iron from their ploughs to construct a giant 550-foot statue of the Iron Man in his state, which would be by far the largest statue in the world, dwarfing the Statue of Liberty. But it will be less of a monument to the modest Gandhian it ostensibly honours than an embodiment of the overweening ambitions of its builder. (Typically, the call to collect ploughshares has been quietly shelved; reports indicate that the statue is being cast instead in a foundry in China.)

Modi’s motives are easy to divine. His own image had been tarnished by the 2002 communal massacre in Gujarat when he was Chief Minister. Identifying himself with Patel (who is portrayed as the leader who stood up for the nation’s Hindus during the horrors of Partition and was firm on issues like Kashmir) is an attempt at character-building by association—portraying Modi himself as an embodiment of the tough, decisive man of action that Patel was, rather than the destructive bigot his enemies decry.

It helps that Patel is widely admired for his extraordinary role in forging a united India through the merger of princely states with the Union, an exercise that gave him an unchallenged standing as the Iron Man of India. Patel represents both a national appeal and a Gujarati origin that suits Modi. The Modi-as-latter-day- Patel message has been resonating well with many Gujaratis, who are proud to be reminded of a native son the nation looks up to, and with many of India’s urban middle-class, who see in Modi a strong leader to cut through the confusion and indecision of India’s messy democracy. Three years of ineffective governance has taken something of the sheen off that appeal, so the latest broadside in Parliament may well signal a desperate attempt by the Prime Minister to squeeze contemporary political benefit over a historical dispute.

It is true, of course, that the two men had their differences, which neither kept particularly secret. Just before independence, Patel was privately scathing about Jawaharlal’s ‘acts of emotional insanity’ and ‘childlike innocence, which puts us all in great difficulties quite unexpectedly”. Nehru, in turn, could not have been unconscious of the fact that the older man (Patel was 14 years his senior) was seen by many Congressmen as more deserving of the country’s leadership than the mercurial Jawaharlal. Modi made an issue of the fact that Nehru was appointed despite this, but he omitted the equally important fact that it was a fellow Gujarati, Gandhiji himself, who made the choice, in which Patel acquiesced without demur.

In his quest to garb himself in a more distinguished lineage than his party can ordinarily lay claim to, Modi called on farmers across India to donate iron from their ploughs to construct a giant 550-foot statue of the Iron Man

But it was not true, scurrilous rumours notwithstanding, that Nehru had initially omitted Patel from the Cabinet list and had been obliged by Mountbatten to include him. On the contrary, Patel’s was always the first name on Nehru’s list. Nehru, in inviting Patel to serve as his deputy, called him “the strongest pillar of the Cabinet”. Patel replied: “My services will be at your disposal, I hope, for the rest of my life and you will have unquestioned loyalty and devotion from me in the cause for which no man in India has sacrificed as much as you have done. Our combination is unbreakable and therein lies our strength.” The Sardar’s assurances were sincere and their ‘combination’ was indispensable as Independent India consolidated its unity and found its feet. (Sadly, though, ‘the rest of my life’ that Patel alluded to would extend no more than another three years.)

Modi’s allegation that the Congress was responsible for Partition bizarrely echoes the views of some pro-Pakistani historians who seek to deflect the blame from the bigoted communal agenda of the separatist Muslim League, which demanded— and got—Partition. But his implying that Patel would not have permitted it is, to put it mildly, ahistorical. Far from being against Partition, Patel was seen even at the time as the principal advocate within the Congress of the view that it was better to let the League have its way. ‘My nine months in office [in the interim government],’ Patel himself wrote, ‘have completely disillusioned me regarding the supposed merits of the Cabinet Mission Plan. Except for a few honourable exceptions, Muslim officials from the top down to the chaprassis (peons) are working for the League. The communal veto given to the League in the Mission Plan would have blocked India’s progress at every stage. Whether we like it or not, de facto Pakistan already exists in the Punjab and Bengal. Under the circumstances, I would prefer a de jure Pakistan, which may make the League more responsible.’ He never changed his view. The noted historian S Irfan Habib quotes Patel as saying in 1949: “It is good that we have agreed to Partition in spite of all its evils; I have never repented my agreeing to Partition.”

MODI’S VEW OF history has always tended to be more self- serving than scholarly, an understandable enough failing in a politician. But his second argument in the Lok Sabha—that “all of Kashmir would have been India’s if Patel [instead of Nehru] had been allowed to become India’s first Prime Minister”—is utterly mystifying. It is convenient for the BJP leader to blame Nehru for the loss of a third of Kashmir to Pakistan, since he needs to divert attention from his own mismanagement of that troubled state. And since it is now an article of faith for his party to lament the fact that Nehru and not Patel became Prime Minister in 1947, it is necessary to project Patel as the man who would have prevented all of Independent India’s failures. But the facts, inconveniently enough, belie this claim.

Multiple sources concur that far from wanting to retain all of Kashmir within the Indian Union, Patel was inclined to give it away to Pakistan. This emerges clearly from the account of the Partition deliberations by the Sardar’s party colleague Maulana Abul Kalam Azad in his autobiographical India Wins Freedom. At a time when other major Congress leaders were resisting the British plan for India’s partition, the Sardar was willing to accept it. Nehru biographer MJ Akbar, now a member of Modi’s Council of Ministers, echoes this view. So do the books Demystifying Kashmir by political scientist Navnita Chadha Behera, and RSS leader HV Seshadri’s The Tragic Story of Partition. The Mahatma’s grandson, Rajmohan Gandhi, in his admiring biography Patel: A Life, describes Patel’s line of thinking: Kashmir could be swapped if Pakistan withdrew its claims to Junagadh and Hyderabad. He cites a speech by Patel at Bahauddin College in Junagadh on 11th November 1947, at which point the tiny Gujarati principality had already been merged into India. According to The Emergence of Pakistan, by Chaudhry Muhammad Ali, Patel’s exact words were: “We would agree to Kashmir if they agreed to Hyderabad.”

Since it is now an article of faith for his party to lament the fact that Nehru and not Patel became Prime Minister, it is necessary to project Patel as the man who would have prevented all of Independent India’s failures. But the facts belie this claim

Srinath Raghavan, the former army officer who is now a respected military historian, tweeted that not only was Modi wrong that Patel would have kept all of Kashmir, most likely he would have given away all of it. Further details emerge from the work of Patel biographer Balraj Krishna in his book Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel: ‘But for Nehru, he could settle the Kashmir issue in no time by arranging that the Kashmir Valley go to Pakistan and East Pakistan to India. Both countries would benefit from such an arrangement…. [In the Sardar’s view], when we had given away Punjab, Sind and NWFP, of what value could the small valley of Kashmir have for us?’ This is corroborated by historian Dinkar Joshi in his book Sardar: The Sovereign Saint: ‘If Hari Singh decided to join Pakistan, Sardar had planned his own strategies—he would ask for Jammu and Ladakh for India and hand over Kashmir Valley to Pakistan.’ This is not entirely inconsistent with his Iron Man image. Patel was a pragmatist: he did not share Nehru’s emotional attachment to Kashmir, and would have been inclined to believe that a Muslim-majority state directly bordering Pakistan could become a major source of trouble for India.

The mystifying thing about Modi’s statement is that it was not just Patel who felt this way; various contemporary sources also confirm that his Cabinet colleague, the Hindu Mahasabha leader Syama Prasad Mookerjee, who was to go on to found the Bharatiya Jana Sangh and is hailed as an ideological progenitor by Modi and the Hindutvavadis, shared the same view. At the time of the ceasefire that Modi so deplores, Patel made it clear he had no stomach for a protracted and debilitating military campaign to retrieve the parts of Kashmir still in Pakistani hands.

But it is true that a key issue that divided Patel and Nehru was the treatment of India’s Muslim minority, and this may be where the two men in fact diverged irreconcilably. Both Nehru and Patel strove, like their mentor Mahatma Gandhi, to keep the country united. But once Partition had occurred, Patel was inclined to see India as a state that symbolised the interests of the Hindu majority, while Nehru’s idea of India explicitly rejected the two-nation theory; having spurned the logic which had created a state for Muslims, he was not about to succumb to the temptation of mirroring that logic by allowing India to become a state for Hindus. “So long as I am Prime Minister,” he declared in 1950, “I shall not allow communalism to shape our policy.”

Patel, on the other hand, was suspicious of the loyalties of Muslims who remained in India and felt those loyalties had to be proven. On one occasion, he proposed that Muslim officials should seek permission from the Government before visiting Pakistan; Nehru objected to any double standard (other officials required no such permission in those days), and the Prime Minister prevailed. It is such disagreements that lie behind the BJP’s eagerness to disparage Nehru and hail Patel as one of their own.

And yet, this does not mean that Patel was communalist in his approach to India’s Muslims. As Home Minister, Patel dealt with the communal disturbances that accompanied Partition firmly and even-handedly; he transferred Army units from Poona and Madras to restore order in Delhi, and asked the Army to move 10,000 homeless Muslims into the Red Fort to protect them from Hindu rioters. Yet he saw Muslims in India, in the words of the historian Sarvepalli Gopal, as ‘hostages to be held in security for the fair treatment of Hindus in Pakistan’. Indeed, the Sardar was more inclined to draw the conclusion from Partition that an entire community had in effect seceded; he once suggested in 1948 that if Hindus were expelled from Pakistan, an equal number of Muslims should be expelled from India, an idea which appalled Nehru, who slapped it down immediately.

Nehru could not have been unconscious of the fact that the older man (Patel was 14 years his senior) was seen by many Congressmen as more deserving of the country’s leadership than the mercurial Jawaharlal

HISTORY HAS OFTEN been contested terrain in India, but its revival in the context of 21st century politics is a sobering sign that the past continues to have a hold over the Hindutva movement in the present. The arguments over Patel confirm that he and other heroes of the freedom struggle will be hijacked to the present ruling party’s attempts to appropriate a halo of nationalism that none of its forebears has done anything to earn. But I wonder how the BJP and Modi would deal with an episode in which Patel’s fundamental decency trumped his political convictions on a communal issue on which he and Nehru disagreed.

This was in 1950, with the Government under pressure from the Right to intervene militarily in East Pakistan, where a massacre of Hindus had begun. Jawaharlal first tried to work with his Pakistani counterpart, Liaquat Ali Khan, on a joint approach to communal disturbances, and then, when this had been ignored, offered President Rajendra Prasad (a Patel ally) his resignation. But when Patel called a meeting of Congressmen at his home to criticise Jawaharlal’s weakness on the issue, Nehru fought back, withdrawing his offer of resignation, challenging Patel to a public debate on Pakistan policy and even writing to him to express doubt as to whether the two of them could work together anymore. The counter-assault was so ferocious that Patel backed off and affirmed his loyalty to Jawaharlal, supporting the pact Nehru signed with his Pakistani counterpart.

Yet Patel did so not because he could not have defeated Nehru politically, but because he felt Nehru deserved his support on an issue of principle. Whereas the Hindu Mahasabha members in the Cabinet, Syama Prasad Mookherjee and KC Neogi, resigned over the Nehru-Liaquat Pact, Patel not only urged them to stay, he committed himself to the pact’s implementation. His logic was Gandhian: the problem may have started with the mistreatment of Hindus in East Pakistan, but the moment retaliatory measures were taken against Muslims in West Bengal, India, in his view, lost the moral authority to put itself on a different plane than Pakistan or take military action against it. Those who saw Patel as a hardliner and a Hindu Mahasabha sympathiser were surprised, but those who knew him as a lifetime Gandhian were not.

Mahatma Gandhi’s assassination by a Hindu fanatic strengthened the unity of the two men. The Mahatma’s last conversation was with Patel; it is believed that the Sardar had been describing his differences with Nehru and seeking permission to quit the Cabinet. Gandhiji again advised them to work together, and his death minutes later made that request a binding obligation upon the Sardar.

Nehru, who had been scheduled to meet with the Mahatma on the same subject immediately after that fateful prayer-meeting, saw it the same way. Gandhi’s death brought the two together again; in their grief, they put their differences behind them.

It is time that Narendra Modi, as the Prime Minister of India, does the same. The heritage of all Indians is richer for having both Nehru and Patel to honour.

Related stories

The Uses and Abuses of What-if History
Nehru vs Patel: The Towering Two
Vallabhbhai Patel: Iron in the Soul
Nehru Vs Patel: Dissimilar Disciples, Common Cause

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