Lay the Nehru-Patel controversy to rest

All that Nehru and Sardar Patel wanted to do was serve India.

JAWAHARLAL NEHRU read history, wrote history and made history. He was a great man. He was one of the tallest leaders of the 20th century. Yet, history has been grossly unfair to him. My generation revered and venerated Mahatma Gandhi. Its hero was Jawaharlal Nehru. He inspired, his magnetism, vitality and good looks made him stand out in any gathering. Gandhiji gave an ethical and moral dimension to our freedom struggle. Nehru provided the intellectual, rational and anti-imperialist dimensions. (I am not touching his foreign policy because this is not the occasion to do so.) He not only laid the foundations of a modern, democratic, secular, pluralistic India, but also achieved all these against daunting odds. His biographer, S Gopal writes, that Nehru gave India, “adult suffrage, sovereign Parliament, a free press, an independent judiciary. These are Nehru’s lasting monuments.” 

I have called Nehru a great man. Isaiah Berlin, the brilliant Oxford historian-cum-philosopher, said, “To call someone a great man is to claim that he has intentionally taken… A large step, one far beyond the normal capacities of men, in satisfying or materially affecting, central human interests. A great thinker or artist must deserve this title, advance society, to an exceptional degree… alter its ways of thinking or felling to a degree that would not, until he had performed is task, have been conceived as being within the powers of a single individual… In the realm of action, the great man seems able, almost alone and single-handed to transform one form of life into another or permanently and radically alters the outlook and values of a significant body of human beings.” I have quoted Isaiah Berlin at some length because I do not know of any other man who could excel Berlin. I briefly met him twice in London, once in the company of the British poet, Stephek Spender. I recall this because Berlin possessed an aura which even in a very brief encounter left a lasting impression on my intellect.

To me, Nehru, on all counts, passes the Berlin criteria. At the moment, the bigots are hell-bent on demonising Nehru. They will, of course, not succeed, but it is galling that some of these unworthies have attained positions of power and authority. They have deliberately invented the Nehru-Patel controversy. Let us for a moment concede that Sardar Patel would have made a better prime minister. In that case, Sardar Patel would have been at the helm for less than three-and-a-half years. He passed away on December 15, 1950, at the age of seventy-five. Who would have been his successor? Nehru, of course. Both were great in their own way. Those denigrating Nehru surely are aware of the fact that Sardar Patel was number two in Nehru’s first Cabinet, consisting of 15 ministers, including Nehru and Patel. Of these 14, six were non-Congress men — Shyama Prasad Mukherjee, BR Ambedker, Shanmukham Chetty, CH Bhaba, Baldev Singh and John Mathai.

Patel could well have stayed out. As a great patriot he rejected personal ego to serve and give his best to the country.

A few days back, the Editor-in-Chief of this paper reminded us of the HVR Iyengar episode. He was an ICS officer who, for some time, worked with Nehru and Patel. The incident was blown out of all proportion by both (The Sardar’s letter to Nehru had the V Shankar touch in it. He was Sardar Patel’s private secretary. Shankar had subtlety of mind but not openness of character.)

Serious differences between the two emerged in January 1948. As usual, Gandhiji was the umpire. On  January 30, Sardar Patel met the Mahatma at 4 pm at Birla House. Patel opened his heart to Gandhiji, who told him that his presence in the Cabinet was indispensable. So was Nehru’s. Any breach between them would be a disaster. Gandhiji would meet the two the next day to resolve their problems. At 5.10 pm the Mahatma was shot dead.

I very much doubt if the critics of Nehru have read the letters exchanged between Nehru and Patel in the first week of February 1948. Both rose to the occasion. Both realised that it was their duty to together serve India. They transcended their divergences. Only very high-minded and large-hearted men could pen such epistles. I quote a paragraph from each. On February 3, 1948, Nehru wrote, “It is a quarter century since we have closely associated with one another and have faced many storms and perils together. I can say with full honesty that during this period my affection and regard for you have grown, and I do not think anything can happen to lessen this.” Sardar Patel replied on February 5, 1948, “I am deeply touched and overwhelmed by the affection and warmth of your letter. I fully and heartily reciprocate the sentiments you have so feelingly expressed. We have both been lifelong comrades in a common cause. The paramount interests of our country and our mutual love and regard, transcending such differences of outlook and temperament as exist, have held us together.”

I end this on a personal note. I was private secretary to secretary-general RK Nehru between 1960-61. His and my modest office was on the same floor as that of the prime minister. When Parliament was not in session, The Prime Minister came to South Block at 9.30 am and left for lunch at 1.30 pm. At times, I ran into him. One afternoon I almost collided with him. I greeted him with folded hands, with a book between them. He asked me what the book was. It was Amaury de Riencourt’s The Soul of China. The prime minister said, “I have read his Soul of India.” “So have I, Sir” was my response. He then walked towards the stairs which led to Gate 1 and remarked, “Rather Spenglerian I thought.” I gave a nervous smile, not having read Spengler’s The Decline of the West. When he reached the stairs, he paused, looked at me and said, “Nehru Imperator”. He said so because I had read The Soul of India which has a chapter entitled Nehru Imperator.

— The writer is a former Union Cabinet minister

http://www.tribuneindia.com/news/comment/nehru-imperator/158494.html

Nehru marked the 20th century with his presence.

Jawaharlal Nehru’s two speeches “A tryst with destiny” and “The light has gone out” are famous. What is not known is the statement Nehru made at his trial in Gorakhpur on November 4, 1940: “It is not me that you are seeking to judge and condemn, but rather hundreds of millions of the people of India and that is a large task even for a proud empire. Perhaps it may be that, though I am standing before you in my trial, it is the British Empire itself that is on its trial before the bar of the world. Individuals count for little, they come and go, as I shall go when my time is up. Seven times I have been tried and convicted by British authority in India, and many years of my life lie buried within prison walls. An eighth time or ninth, and a few more years, make little difference. But it is no small matter what happens to India and her millions of sons and daughters. That is the issue before me, and that ultimately is the issue before you, Sir.” Here is superb English.

An unseemly debate is taking place — who was the greater man, Nehru or Patel. Both were great. On August 15, 1947, Nehru was three months short of his 58th birthday. Patel was 72. He passed away on December 15, 1950. He was 75. Granted, he would have been a better PM than Nehru. The fact remains that he died in December 1950. Who would have succeeded him? Inevitably, Nehru.

Nehru was certainly a great man. What are the criteria for calling a man great? Isaiah Berlin, the Oxford philosopher, gave this definition:

“To call someone a great man is to claim that he has intentionally taken a large step beyond the normal capacities of men, in satisfying or materially affecting central human interests… permanently and radically alters the outlook and values of a significant body of human beings.” Nehru passes the test with flying colours.

Nehru marked the 20th century with his presence. He radically altered the outlook and values of many people in India and all over the colonial world. The “weapons” he used were truth, decency and sincerity. Nehru, idealist though he was, had an acute sense of reality and an appreciation of the values of our heritage.

Nehru read history, wrote history and made history. But history has been unkind to him. All the ills of contemporary India are attributed to him. The unkindest cut of all is that he was responsible for Partition. This is cant. Sardar Patel, Rajaji and Rajendra Prasad were equally responsible. This is a historical fact and the truth.

Another historical fact is never mentioned. Nehru’s first, 14-member cabinet included six non-Congressmen — B.R. Ambedkar, Syama Prasad Mookerjee, John Mathai, Baldev Singh, Shanmukham Chetty and C.H. Bhabha. The surprising inclusion was that of Ambedkar, who had been a severe critic of Gandhi and the Congress for 25 years. Gandhi made sure that Ambedkar joined the cabinet.

Nehru laid the foundation of a nation-state that would be democratic, secular and pluralistic. He wanted to build a just India by just means. He built dams, steel and fertiliser plants. He made the eastern part of India accessible. He worked 16 hours a day. He sat in the Lok Sabha every day during its sittings. He raised the level of the national political dialogue.

Nehru did not delegate. His selected works run into 58 volumes, each more than 500 pages. He would have saved a lot of time
and labour if he had only delegated. As external affairs minister, he replied and wrote to our ambassadors and high commissioners — something a joint secretary could do.

Nehru was a poor judge of men. The glaring examples are the “whining” Krishna Menon and “insufferable” M.O. Mathai. Both were “shady” individuals, but totally trusted by Nehru, who gave them the benefit of doubt. About Mathai, S. Gopal, the sympathetic biographer of Nehru, wrote, “He exercised vast and irregular power… Nehru was informed that Mathai could not account for his great wealth and without doubt had received from the CIA as well as from businessmen in India. It can be safely assumed that from 1946 to 1959, the CIA had access to every paper passing through Nehru’s secretariat.” [Emphasis added]

Nehru was not a great external affairs minister. Prime ministers should not become foreign ministers. Nehru made two foreign policy blunders — Kashmir and China. He internationalised a purely domestic matter by taking the Kashmir issue to the UN Security Council, under Chapter Six of the UN Charter. He should have gone to the UNSC under Chapter Seven, which addresses itself to aggression. Nehru also promised a plebiscite. It took the IFS 15 years to get rid of this absurdity. The role of Mountbatten was pernicious. The governor-general kept the king and British Prime Minister Clement Attlee informed. He did not use the MEA cipher. He went to the UK’s high commission to send messages to London without informing Nehru.

On China too, Nehru faltered badly. I have no doubt that for the border dispute, there is no solution in the near future. China practices realpolitik. We do not.

The writer is a former minister of external affairs

http://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/a-just-india-by-just-means/99/#sthash.rMynObcg.dpuf

courtesy : “The Indian Express”, November 14, 2014

India House is among the better known diplomatic establishments in London. I first set eyes on the imposing building in 1952, when I was a student at Cambridge University. Thirty years later I entered India House as Deputy High Commissioner. One of my less attractive duties was to meet the unreasonable demands of visitors from India. Not all were disagreeable but many were.

Early in the summer of 1975, Mr. Chandraswamy telephones me. He was in London. The late Yashpal Kapoor had asked him to contact me, Chandraswamy invited me to meet me at his place. I said if he wished to see me, he should come to India House. This he did the next day. At the time he was in his late twenties. He was in his “Sadhu” attire. He did not speak a word of English. Now he does.

At this, our first meeting, he dropped names. After a few days he again come to see me. He invited my wife and me to have dinner with him.

The food was delicious. After dinner he said to us, “I will show you something you have never seen”. He then produced a large sheet of white paper and drew lines from top to bottom and left to right. Next he produced three strips of paper asked my wife to write a question on each strip, make a ball and place each one on a square on the chess board. My wife wrote the questions in English. He closed his eyes and went into a trance. I was, by this time getting restless. Suddenly he asked my wife to pick up any of the paper balls. She did so. Opened it. Chandraswamy then told her what the question was. He was spot on. My wife, who is an amateur astrologer, was sceptical at this stage. When Chandraswamy got the next two questions right, she was amazed and interested. I was intrigued. I could not, as a rationalist, accept mumbo-jumbo. Neither could I dismiss Chandraswamy as a complete hoax.

A few days later Y.B. Chavan, the then External Affairs Minister was on his way to the United States. I went to meet him at London’s Heathrow airport. He confirmed he knew Chandraswamy well. I also told Chavan that Chandraswamy had asked me to arrange a meeting with Lord Mountbatten and also with Mrs Thatcher. Should I arrange these meetings? To my discomfiture and surprise, Chavan sahib saw no harm in Chandraswamy meeting Lord Mountbatten or Mrs Thatcher.

I rang up Lord Mountbatten. He said he would have been glad to meet “your friend”, but he was leaving for a holiday in Northern Ireland the next day. I was quite relieved. I informed Chandraswamy. What about Mrs Thatcher?

She had been elected leader of the Conservative Party six months earlier. Doubts still assailed me about Chandraswamy meeting Margaret Thatcher, not yet the iron lady. Suppose Chandraswamy made an ass of himself. I would look a bigger ass. I sought an appointment with the Leader of the Opposition. She promptly obliged. I met her in her tiny office in the House of Commons.

Her response was, “If you think I should meet him, I shall. What does he want to see me for?” “That he will tell you himself,” I said. She agreed to see him in her House of Commons office early the next week. “Only ten minutes, Deputy High Commissioner,” she announced. I thanked her and left.

Chandraswamy was on cloud nine when I gave him the news. I cautioned him not to do or say something silly. I was putting my neck on the line for him. “Chinta mut kareay, (don’t worry”) said the sage. So, to the House of Commons the two of us proceeded. Chandraswamy was dressed in his “sadhu” kit, with a huge tilak on his forehead and a staff in his right hand. Rudraksha malas round his neck. He banged the staff on the road till I told him to stop doing so. I confess, I was feeling self conscious. Not Chandraswamy. He relished the attention he was inviting. Finally we reached Mrs Thatcher’s office. With her was her Parliamentary Private Secretary, Adam Butler, M.P. son of Rab Butler, the Conservative leader.

Introductions over, Mrs Thatcher asked, “What did you want to see me for?” Chandraswamy spoke in Hindi. I translated. “Tell her she will soon find out.” His tone was arrogantly respectful. Mrs Thatcher — “I am waiting.” The clock was ticking away. Chandraswamy was in no hurry. He asked for a large piece of paper. Went through the same routine as with my wife. He gave Mrs. Thatcher five strips of paper and requested her to write a question on each. She obliged, but with scarcely camouflaged irritation. Chandraswamy asked her to open the first paper ball. She did. He gave the text of the question in Hindi. I translated. Correct. I watched Mrs Thatcher. The irritation gave way to curiosity. Next question. Again bull’s eye. Curiosity replaced by interest. By the fourth question the future iron lady’s demeanour changed. She began to look at Chandraswamy not as a fraud, but as a holy man indeed. My body language too altered. Last question. No problem. I heaved a sigh of relief. Mrs Thatcher was now perched on the edge of the sofa. Like Oliver Twist, she asked for more. Chandraswamy was like a triumphant Guru. He took off his chappals and sat on the sofa in the lotus pose. I was appalled. Mrs Thatcher seemed to approve. She asked supplementary questions. In each case Chandraswamy’s response almost overwhelmed the future Prime Minister. She was on the verge of another supplementary, when Chandraswamy regally announced that the sun had set. No more questions. Mrs Thatcher was not put out. She enquired if she could meet him again. I was entirely unprepared for this. Very coolly, almost condescendingly he said, “On Tuesday at 2.30 p.m. at the house of Shri Natwar Singh.” I told him that he was over reaching himself by dictating the day and time without taking into account her convenience. This was not India. He was unmoved “Kunwar sahib, Anuvad kar dijiye aur phir dekhiye.” Please translate and then see. I was astounded when she asked me, “Deputy High Commissioner, where do you live?” This was not all. What followed was something out of a weird novel. Just as we were about to leave, Mr. Holy Man produced a talisman tied to a not so tidy piece of string. He then pronounced that Mrs Thatcher should tie it on her left arm when she came to my house on Tuesday. I was now on the verge of losing my temper. I said I would not translate this dehati rubbish. Mrs Thatcher intervened to know what the holy man was saying. “Mrs Thatcher, please forgive me, but Chandraswamy would like you to wear this talisman on your left arm.” She took the talisman. We were saying our goodbyes, when Chandraswamy produced his sartorial bomb. Turning to me he said “Kunwar Sahib, kindly tell Mrs Thatcher that on Tuesday she should wear a red poshak. I felt like hitting him. He was overdoing this. I firmly told him it was the height of bad manners to tell a lady what she should or should not wear. Mrs Thatcher looked a bit apprehensive at this not so mild altercation between a distraught Deputy High Commissioner and a somewhat ill-mannered holy man. Very reluctantly I said to her that the holy man would be obliged if she wore a red dress on Tuesday. I was looking down at the floor as I said this.

On Tuesday, at 2.30, Mrs Margaret Thatcher, leader of the Conservative Party, arrived at Sun House, Frognal Way, Hampstead. It was a beautiful day. She was wearing a stunning red dress. The talisman too was in its proper place.

She asked many questions but the most important related to the chances of her becoming Prime Minister. My wife was also present. Chandraswamy did not disappoint Mrs Thatcher. He prophesied that she would be Prime Minister for nine, eleven or thirteen years. Mrs Thatcher, no doubt believed that she would be Prime Minister one day. Nine, eleven, thirteen years was a bit much. Mrs Thatcher put one final question. When would she become a Prime Minister? Chandraswamy announced — in three or four years. He was proved right. She was PM for eleven years.

This narrative should have ended here. But there was an aftermath. The Commonwealth Summit was held in Lusaka, Zambia in 1979. Mrs Margaret Thatcher had by then become Prime Minister. I had been posted to Zambia in August 1977. Along with other High Commissioners I went to Lusaka airport to receive Mrs Thatcher. When she greeted me and my wife, I gently whispered “Our man proved right.” For a moment she looked flustered. She took me aside, “High Commissioner, we don’t talk about these matters.” “Of course not, prime minister, of course not,” said I.

(Extracted from K. Natwar Singh’s new book “Walking with Lions — Tales from a Diplomatic Past,” HarperCollins)

courtesy : "The Hindu", 09.04.2013