by Kuldip Nayar
I was in the midst of writing The Judgement, an account of some 19 months of the Emergency, when Kamal Nath, by now a senior Congress MP, asked me how I could write about the Emergency without meeting Sanjay.
I said I would like to interview him, and asked whether Sanjay would meet me. Kamal Nath took me to Indira Gandhi’s residence at 1 Safdarjang Road. The house wore a forlorn look, rather like a battlefield after a defeat. Bundles of papers and pieces of furniture were strewn all over; no sign of a visitor, no crowd to bid them farewell. Indira Gandhi was standing at the front porch. She saw me and initially moved towards me, but then retraced her steps and went inside.
Sanjay was standing under a tree, and this became the venue of the interview. He was wearing a white kurta-pyjama, the familiar attire in which he appeared in photographs. I had seen him once at a press conference.
Kamal Nath left us when we began talking. Sanjay’s first inquiry was whether I knew who would be the leader of the Janata parliamentary party. I said that it appeared that Morarji Desai would be the eventual choice. Sanjay remarked that in that case the government would last. If Jagjivan Ram were to take over, he said, the entire edifice would collapse within a few months. His animus against Jagjivan Ram was understandable because he was a senior minister with a large dalit following, who left the Congress when elections were announced.
Sanjay had heard about the book I was writing. Strangely, he asked me not to include any part of our conversation. I told him that I would honour his request but it made little sense if he wanted his side of the story to be known. He had his way and I did not include anything he said in The Judgement. I have however no obligation after his death and am therefore disclosing the gist of our conversation for the first time.
The first question I asked Sanjay was how he thought that they would get away with it: the Emergency, the authoritarian rule, and the rest? He said there was no challenge to them and that they could have carried on with the Emergency for at least 20 to 25 years or more until they felt confident that they had changed people’s ways of thinking.
In their scheme of things, he said, there would have been no elections and they would have ruled from Delhi, with the help of provincial satraps like Bansi Lal from Haryana and like-minded bureaucrats in other states. It would have been a different kind of governance, with power centralized in Delhi. I recalled that Kamal Nath had during the Emergency given me the manuscript of a book arguing along the same lines and detailing the machinery such a government would establish to rule with the help of police and some selected bureaucrats.
In the scheme of Sanjay’s rule, there was no Congress leader of eminence and experience. Anyone who wanted to be part of the form of governance he was contemplating had to believe in a state completely devoid of fundamental rights, freedom of speech and expression. The judiciary would have to function accordingly.
‘Then why did you hold elections?’ I asked Sanjay. He didn’t, he said. He was opposed to it to the very end. It was his mother’s doing. ‘You should ask her,’ he said. By then Indira Gandhi reappeared at the porch, probably wondering what we were discussing, but then rapidly retraced her steps.
How would such a system have worked when we had a constitution to guarantee us certain rights? Sanjay said that the Emergency would not have been lifted and every right would have remained suspended. I told him that I had heard rumours that before holding elections, his mother and he had contemplated handing over the country to the army. He said that this was not true, and was in all probability right.
It seems that some in the military had toyed with different ideas. Air Marshal Om Mehta had told me that ‘some of them had sat once to discuss whether the military should take over. Who would take the lead was not clear. Besides, what daunted action was the unknown after the takeover. No one had the heart to demolish the democratic structure once and for all.’
His predecessor, Air Marshal Idris Latif, was suspicious of the army which never took either the air force or the navy into confidence. After his retirement he wrote to the then Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee to warn him against parcelling the country into areas and sub-areas, the jargon that the army used in cantonments and elsewhere. He requested him not to ever agree to the creation of the post of chief of the military staff lest he should become a dictator. Idris made the same points to Prime Minister Manmohan Singh. Neither of them replied to his request.
At a meeting which took place at Indira Gandhi’s residence, after the defeat of the Congress, she pulled out Bansi Lal’s resignation letter from her bag and handed it over to Y.B. Chavan, not to D.K. Barooah, and not before she had got everyone to agree that the entire working committee should collectively resign, sharing the blame for the party’s debacle. She added: As one who led the government, I unreservedly own full responsibility for this defeat. I am not interested in finding alibis or excuses for myself, nor am I interested in shielding anyone. I have no caucus to defend or group to fight against. I have never functioned as a group leader.
Enthusiastic Janata Party MPs took an oath of honesty, transparency, and integrity at Rajghat. Some party supporters were also invited; I was not. At the swearing-in ceremony itself, the race for the prime-ministership began and it appeared that Jagjivan Ram had a majority. JP, who was ultimately asked to nominate the individual, selected Morarji Desai. He explained to me that he could not have nominated Jagjivan Ram because he had in parliament sponsored the resolution supporting the imposition of Emergency. JP emphasized unity in the party so that they could collectively implement the promises that had been made. ‘I hoped the Janata experiment, bringing regional parties together to fight the elections on one symbol would work.’ This notwithstanding, I saw the same party crumbling before my eyes. The ambition and arrogance of the leaders occupying senior positions undid the Janata.
I was particularly unhappy to see the same Jana Sangh men in key positions, bringing with them the same prejudice and parochialism. I would see the RSS men in Advani’s room whenever I met him. For the Jana Sangh, the Janata party was a means, not an end in itself. It succeeded in its goal of diluting, though not washing off, its communal credentials by advancing the argument that it was an intrinsic part of the Janata Party which advocated secularism.
The functioning of the Janata Party was not very different from that of the Congress. Instead of Sanjay Gandhi, the government had to reckon with Kanti Desai, Morarji’s son, who was equally ruthless and wanting in integrity, but happily not wielding the authority that Sanjay did. However, I felt so concerned that I complained to Morarji that his son was fixing up deals or contracts for huge sums of money. I requested him to at least eject him from the PM’s residence which gave him the stamp of authority. Morarji refused to do so, on the plea that he had once lost his daughter who had committed suicide after he had admonished her. In fact, I found Morarji as impossible as I had found him many years earlier when he was in the wilderness: self-righteous, obstinate, and hugely arrogant.
I felt it was my duty to write against the non-performance of the Janata government. When it dismissed the nine Congress-ruled state governments, I wrote that such an action might be constitutionally correct but was morally wrong. I reminded the party of the expectations the people had placed upon them.
Morarji rang me to warn that my writings were actionable and that he could put me behind bars. I told him that Indira Gandhi had done that and he too was at liberty to follow suit. He calmed down and said that if my purpose was not to destroy the government, I should not be writing in the way I had. I said in reply: ‘Morarjibhai, the government will fall because of its own misdeeds, not because of my writings.’
On the other hand, I found myself suddenly becoming popular in Indira Gandhi’s circles. Sharda Prasad, Indira Gandhi’s press adviser, met me once during my regular walk in the Lodi gardens and shook my hand firmly and remarked: ‘Greater strength to your pen.’
The down and out Kamal Nath met me and sought my help to enable him and Sanjay Ga
ndhi go abroad. The latter’s passport had been impounded. I told him that they would never allow Sanjay Gandhi to travel abroad. As far as he was concerned, I told him that if I knew the system, the Delhi and Bombay airports must have been told not to permit him (Kamal Nath) to go abroad but he could try Madras. Two years later when he met me, he told that my tip had worked and he was able to leave the country via Madras.
The pressure to punish Indira Gandhi for her misdeeds was so relentless and most cabinet members were so insistent for some action that the party demanded her arrest. Morarji was an exception. He wrote on the file that no government action was called for because she had been punished by the people by defeating her at the polls. Charan Singh was, however, adamant as was the socialist block in the party. Members belonging to Jana Sangh were hawkish.
RNG felt defeated within the Janata Party because he had wanted Jagjivan Ram to become prime minister. With all his behind-the-scene activities he was keen to retain the number one position for the Indian Express as it had been during the Emergency. He asked me to do whatever I could to sustain the increase in circulation. He was willing to hire more hands. I told him that during the Emergency the newspaper had come to represent a sentiment which was selling. That ended with the withdrawal of the Emergency. I was proved to be right. We lost all the additional circulation we had gained.
It was during these days that RNG thought it was the best time to implement his dream of publishing an edition of the Indian Express from every state capital. I went to Chandigarh to bring out the Punjab and Haryana edition, but retained my position in Delhi. I would spend three days at Chandigarh and four in Delhi.
I hired many journalists but two of the recruits, Shekhar Gupta and Madhu Kishwar, became celebrities. Shekhar Gupta called me his ‘guru’ but showed no respect when he stopped my fortnightly column. By then he had become all in all in the Express, circumstances having helped him to occupy the position of editor-in-chief.
What shocked me was that RNG removed V.K. Narasimha, who as editor-in-chief had kept the defiant stance of the Indian Express intact, a couple of days after Indira Gandhi lost power. His name was removed from the print line and substituted by Malgaonkar’s, without Narasimha’s knowledge. He resigned to register his protest. The entire senior editorial staff signed a petition against Goenka’s action. I was approached to sign it. I told them that I would do so but after speaking to Goenka who was in the guest-house. I asked if the news about Narasimha’s removal was correct. He said he had to restore Malgaonkar to his position to correct the wrong done to him. ‘Was it necessary to do so in the manner you have,’ I asked. He said that he should have reverted Narasimha to his original position at the Financial Express and seemed regretful.
When I told him about the revolt in the office he said they should not forget what he had gone through during the Emergency. I could see repentance on his face. He wanted me to go to Narasimha’s house and bring him back. I went there and found him sitting on the floor having a cup of coffee his wife had prepared. I requested him to rejoin as editor of the Financial Express and assured him that RNG was apologetic.
For Narasimha the question of joining the Express group again did not arise. He asked me how long had I known RNG. Before I could reply, he said: ‘Kuldip, I have known him for 30 years. Goenka has not changed. He is as selfish as ever.’ How courageous and noble a man was Narasimha, I thought. He had no job to go to and yet took a stand whenever there was an attack on his dignity. I had close relations with the Deccan Herald family and got him posted as editor-in-chief of the newspaper.
While I was in Delhi over the weekend, B.D. Goenka went to Chandigarh on 6 August 1977 and inaugurated the edition published from there without informing me. That was how the Goenkas functioned. They did things at the spur of the moment and showed that like whimsical owners they could do anything at any time. The Express at Chandigarh did not give much of competition to the well-established Tribune but managed to jolt it.
One day, Prakash Singh Badal, then Punjab chief minister, dropped into my office. As we had known each other for many years, I thought he wanted to surprise me. It was indeed a surprise because he wanted me to propose my name for the state’s governor. I told him that I did not have sufficient grey hair to occupy such a position but he paid no heed to my misgivings and sent the proposal to New Delhi.
I used to meet Home Minister Charan Singh at least twice a month. As usual I went to him during my sojourn at Delhi. He informed me about Badal’s recommendation. Charan Singh said that he had proposed my name as an experiment in having a joint governor of Punjab and Haryana. I did not join issue with him because I knew that Morarji would reject my name. I was right. He had not forgotten that I had ‘helped’ Shastri to become prime minister. Vajpayee’s proposal to appoint me as Indian envoy to Pakistan met the same fate. ‘What has Morarji against you,’ inquired Vajpayee when he got back the file rejecting my name.
The Janata Party faced a crisis from its inception on 23 January 1977. Too many groups of different affiliations were not combining well either within the party or government. The chasm between Morarji Desai and Charan Singh began opening up soon after the Janata Party government took its oath of office in march 1977. This told upon the party’s unity as well as on the government’s coherence. The two differed on the appointment of a commission to examine the excesses committed by Indira Gandhi during the Emergency. Morarji was not opposed to an enquiry against excesses committed but did not want to single out Indira Gandhi because he felt that she had already been punished by the people. Charan Singh differed and had his way because all his cabinet colleagues supported him on the appointment of the commission as well as her prosecution.
When it came to prosecuting Indira Gandhi, the case picked up was when she had ‘lied’ as a prime minister in her reply to a question on the Maruti car, her son’s project. Also, she had been found mixed up in the purchase of jeeps for her party’s propaganda during the polls. The Lok Sabha passed a resolution for her arrest.
As the House adjourned, I could see Congress women MPs surrounding Indira Gandhi to defy the execution of her arrest. It was the CBI that arrested her and she refused to seek bail. An FIR was registered on the morning of 3 October 1977. That very day N.K. Singh, an IPS officer of exceptional ability and moral courage, gave her a copy of the FIR. She was accused of misusing her official position and deriving pecuniary benefit in the procurement of jeeps for election purposes.
N.K. Singh was heckled by senior Congress leaders when he went to Indira Gandhi’s residence to arrest her at around 8 p.m. Rajiv and Sanjay Gandhi followed her in a car. A place at Bhadkal Lake had been arranged for her detention. The railway crossing between Faridabad and the lake was closed. She got out of the car and said on the culvert that she would abide by her lawyer’s advice. A large crowd had gathered and began shouting slogans for her release. Looking at the situation, N.K. Singh took her to the officer’s mess of the Delhi police in Old Delhi. She felt comfortable there and spent the night.
The following day, 4 October, Indira Gandhi was produced in a magistrate’s court and the police had a hard time controlling her supporters. The magistrate wanted evidence against Indira Gandhi in support of the charges made against her. He was told that the FIR had been registered only the previous day and that the evidence was still being collected. The magistrate sought to know what the prosecution wanted him to do. There was no reply. He summarily discharged her on the ground that there was no evidence given in support of her detention. She was never rearrested. (The magistrate was duly rewarded when Indira Gandhi returned to power in 1980.)
N.K. Singh was held responsible for the fiasco and removed from his position. The poor man was the first victim of Indira Gandhi when she resumed prime-ministership, being asked to proceed on leave. Worse however was the attack on him by Bansi Lal’s policemen. He would have been killed had we not got a clue at the Express. We rushed a reporter along with a photographer to his house at Gurgaon. The CBI int
ervened and asked the Haryana police chief to spell out N.K.’s crime. He was dragged to court in connection with a ‘criminal case’ but was released by the magistrate on a personal bond. There were no voices condemning Bansi Lal’s action. I met N.K. Singh a few years later when he was contesting an election from Bihar. He did not make it; honest and straightforward individuals rarely do.
The Justice J.C. Shah Commission, a one man commission, which was appointed to look into the excesses committed during the Emergency, was unaware of Indira Gandhi’s arrest. Shah resigned because he did not approve of her arrest when he was in the midst of an inquiry. He had received 48,000 complaints against her but they were yet to be processed. I met him before he flew back to Bombay and wondered how she could have been arrested without consulting him. His reading was that they had given Indira Gandhi credibility by arresting her. Shah was eventually persuaded by Morarji to return to the commission.
As I look back I think that Indira Gandhi’s arrest was not viewed with favour by the people and elicited sympathy for her. She exploited the government’s ineptitude in filing an ill-prepared case without proper documentation. Doubts arose in people’s minds, and many began questioning the entire basis of the inquiry.
The daily broadcast of the commission’s proceedings after a while proved to be counter-productive. Indians are a curious people. When they feel that the guilty have been punished they forget the wrongs and forgive them. In Indira Gandhi’s case the general belief was that the electorate had punished her sufficiently. When thereafter she was pilloried in parliament and at the Shah Commission, people thought that the Janata government was hitting her when she was already down. Whispering campaigns in her favour, initiated by those who had been tainted by their misdeeds during the Emergency, received encouragement. Many even felt that ‘some strong’ action had been necessary to establish ‘discipline’. The Emergency had been a bitter pill which had to be administered.