Half - Lion: How P.V. Narasimha Rao Transformed India

by Vinay Sitapati

  The use of Article 356 had not been necessary to protect the Babri mosque as long as Uttar Pradesh was run by the Congress or Mulayam Singh. After June 1991, however, the very party that wanted the mosque destroyed was now in charge of securing it.

  Prime minister Rao thus came to power facing three dilemmas over Babri Masjid. Since he needed both Hindus and Muslims to return to the Congress, he did not want to alienate either group. Second, while Narasimha Rao opposed the BJP’s position on the mosque, his party was a minority in Parliament. If the BJP moved and won a no-confidence motion, Rao would have to resign. A third, critical, predicament was whether to dismiss the UP government by invoking Article 356. Could chief minister Kalyan Singh be trusted to place constitutional duty above ideological inclination?

  Kalyan Singh’s initial actions seemed to indicate that the answer was ‘no’. Almost immediately after Singh’s swearing-in ceremony as chief minister in June 1991, the UP government acquired 2.77 acres of land around Babri Masjid.19 That October, it began demolishing ancient structures on the acquired land (the main mosque was left untouched).20 It was only when the Supreme Court stepped in that the demolition stopped. In November, Kalyan Singh assured the National Integration Council (a group of senior politicians from across parties) that ‘the entire responsibility for the protection of the disputed structure is ours, we will be vigilant . . .’21

  Meanwhile, between September and November 1991, Rao ensured that Hindu and Muslim groups met around ninety times. There had been three prior attempts at negotiations, but they had failed22 since Muslim groups were suspicious of the BJP. They were right to be. On 6 January 1992, the intelligence bureau sent Rao a note titled ‘Ram Janma Bhoomi-Babri Masjid—Retrospect & Prospects’. It warned that ‘notwithstanding the present impasse on account of legal obstacles, the BJP government in U.P. is considering how best to circumvent those hurdles that are standing in the way of the construction of the temple’.

  Meanwhile, after the Congress session in Tirupati in April 1992, Rao’s rivals within the Congress realized that Rao might last his full term. As we saw in an earlier chapter, Arjun Singh, in particular, decided to make Babri Masjid a wedge issue and unseat Rao. Through the year 1992, he sent Rao a series of public and private letters warning of the dangers to the mosque. He also advocated a strong line against the BJP.23

  The BJP began a fresh set of provocations in July. Newspaper reports indicated that though the main Babri mosque was unharmed, the BJP had resumed construction in the outer compound. This was a direct violation of Supreme Court orders.

  Many Congressmen were alarmed. On 9 July 9 1992, twenty Congress MPs—including Mani Shankar Aiyar and Prithviraj Chavan—signed a handwritten letter to Rao pleading that he take ‘all necessary steps to protect the masjid by preventing construction, by taking physical possession of the masjid and the premises, and by deploying the Army to that area if necessary’. A few days later, the Allahabad high court directed the UP government to stop construction.24 But the construction continued. It was only when the Supreme Court ordered suspension on 23 July 1992 that construction ceased25 and the immediate threat to the mosque dissipated. Kalyan Singh had demonstrated once again that he was not a man of his word.

  Though Rao decided not to impose Central rule in UP that July, he was confronted with the possibility that he would have to do so at short notice. He asked Madhav Godbole, his home secretary, to draw up a contingency plan to take over the mosque. Godbole, a Maharashtrian IAS officer, had a reputation for hard work, rectitude as well as acrimony. ‘When he speaks, it is as if God-bole [God speaks],’ a batchmate of his remembers. Godbole would later resign in a huff, and write a tell-all memoir criticizing Rao and other decision-makers for failing to prevent the demolition of Babri Masjid. But in July 1992, he was a bureaucrat who did as he was told. He sent Rao a secret contingency plan.

  The plan contained the modalities for Central forces to take over Babri Masjid. It specified that Article 356 had to be invoked, and talked about ‘Danger to security of RJB-BM’ structure for ‘a period of a few hours when the structure would be quite vulnerable. Ground realities preclude any fool-proof operational plan to avoid this.’26 Rao did not go through with the plan in July. As Godbole puts it, ‘. . .there was no clear view within the government on whether the Centre should get so fully involved’.27

  Meanwhile, July 1992 saw the retirement of Cabinet secretary Naresh Chandra, since he had crossed fifty-eight years of age. Chandra had been handling the business of government as well as economic reforms and, as we shall see later, the growing nuclear programme. A bachelor, he was a permanent presence in South Block, eating lunch, dinner and even breakfast there. ‘I don’t want to lose him,’ Rao told an official. That very month, Rao announced in Parliament that a special ‘Ayodhya cell’ would be created in the prime minister’s office. Its proposals would be submitted to the prime minister through Naresh Chandra, who was designated as a ‘senior advisor’.28 The creation of the Ayodhya cell signalled that the prime minister’s office was directly dealing with the matter. But the home secretary, Madhav Godbole, felt that it was ‘a wrong move . . . it weakened the MHA (ministry of home affairs), depriving it of initiative, without in any way . . . finding a solution . . .’29

  The matter was now reaching boiling point and Rao personally monitored negotiations between Hindu and Muslim groups. In his Independence Day speech that August, he declared, ‘It is our desire that a grand temple be built there, but the mosque must remain intact.’30 This formula—of a protected mosque with a temple adjacent—was part of the 1991 Congress election manifesto31 (drafted by Rao) and seemed just the kind of balancing act that had worked for him elsewhere. The VHP and Muslim leaders began talking again. Rao’s patience appeared to be paying off.

  Then on 30 October 1992, the VHP lobbed a bombshell. It declared that kar seva, or religious service, would be performed right next to the disputed structure on 6 December—on land that the UP government had taken over. The VHP promised that the mosque itself would be untouched, and the symbolic puja would be confined to the outer compound. But that meant around 100,000 Hindu kar sevaks in proximity to Babri Masjid on 6 December 1992.32

  A few days later, Narasimha Rao asked Madhav Godbole to prepare yet another secret contingency plan to take over the mosque. On 4 November, Godbole replied, estimating that a large contingent of central forces would be required: ‘CRPF: 90 Coys [companies]; RPF 25 Coys; CISF 54 Coys. Total 169 coys.’ This strike force would gather in Delhi airport, fly to Lucknow, and make their way by road to Ayodhya.

  The report made two points forcefully. First, the ‘imposition of president’s rule under article 356 of the constitution may be necessary just before the actual intervention’. Second, there would be a danger to the mosque while it was being taken over by Central forces. ‘One major concern, in the backdrop of developments since July, 1992 would be the safety and security of the Ram Janma Bhoomi—Babri Masjid structure in such a situation.’ Come 6 December, the activists around the mosque would constitute ‘a target of 10 lakh kar sevaks, though the actual number is not expected to be so large’. For Central forces to take control of the mosque while it was surrounded by so many activists would mean ‘likely bloodshed in Ayodhya’ as well as a threat to the mosque. For this reason, the home ministry advocated that if a decision be taken to impose President’s rule (the note was careful not to recommend it), it should be made well before 6 December. ‘[A] date prior to 24 November, 1992 may be considered.’

  The note—which had never been made public before33—made clear that Rao effectively had only until 24 November 1992 to impose Central rule in UP. Any takeover after that date would imperil the mosque. The prime minister had just twenty days to decide.

  Unlike Indira Gandhi, Narasimha Rao preferred to avoid violent confrontation. He had seen, up close, the disasters that sending troops to the Golden Temple and to Sri Lanka had proved. When he realized that he had a twenty-day window for taking control of th
e mosque, his first instinct was to consult and negotiate.

  The Cabinet Committee on Political Affairs (CCPA) is the inner Cabinet, consisting of the prime minister, ministers from the top four ministries (home, external affairs, defence and finance) as well as senior officials. Rao immediately scheduled a meeting of the CCPA. He craftily invited the HRD minister Arjun Singh to join—so that he could not absolve himself of responsibility later.

  At least five CCPA meetings were held that November. During these meetings, Rao repeatedly asked whether Article 356 could be legitimately invoked. In his memoirs, Madhav Godbole denies that there was any definite opinion voiced on Article 356 during discussions in the CCPA.34 However, his version is contested by two officials as well as one minister who attended the meetings—but who do not want to be named. They remember distinctly the consensus articulated in the meetings: that Article 356 applied only when ‘a situation has arisen’, not when it is anticipated. Naresh Chandra, one of the few officials willing to speak on record, adds: ‘The general feeling in government was that it would not be possible to justify recourse to Article 356 since it did not permit action in anticipation of a breakdown. All concerned, including P.C. Rao [the law secretary] shared this view.’

  Arjun Singh later claimed that Rao dithered during those meetings, while he himself pushed for stronger action.35 This is not supported by the minutes of the CCPA, where not a single minister—not Manmohan Singh, not Sharad Pawar, and certainly not Arjun Singh—demanded the only ‘action’ constitutionally permissible: the dismissal of the Kalyan Singh government. Since minutes of the meetings do not always capture all that was discussed, this key fact has also been confirmed in interviews with bureaucrats and a politician present. Naresh Chandra says, ‘Members of the CCPA, while urging all steps to be taken to prevent damage to the building, did not propose or press on Rao for the imposition of the President’s rule.’

  The clearest evidence that Rao’s Cabinet was unwilling to invoke Article 356 lies in the CCPA meetings around 20 November 1992. Narasimha Rao was not present, since he was travelling on an official visit to Senegal. One of the meetings was even held in the office of Arjun Singh. Godbole remembers the prime minister telling S.B. Chavan, Arjun Singh and Sharad Pawar that they could take a decision to impose Central rule in UP in his absence.36 They chose not to do so. After the demolition of the mosque, Pranab Mukherjee told complaining Congressmen, ‘All of you were members of the Cabinet and some of you were members of the CCPA. All decisions were taken in the meetings of the Cabinet and CCPA. Responsibility is collective; the onus cannot only be on the prime minister or home minister.’37

  The natural supporters of any bid to impose President’s rule in UP should have been the left-leaning opposition: Janata Dal and the communist parties. The communists were resolutely anti-BJP. The Janata Dal, riven by factional feuds, was more complicated. They had accepted the support of the BJP at one time, but were now at daggers drawn. On 23 November 1992, Rao met the leaders of these secular parties during a meeting of the National Integration Council (the BJP boycotted it). The Janata Dal and communists could have declared President’s rule justified in UP, given Kalyan Singh’s untrustworthiness. They did not do so. Instead, pushing the decision on to Rao, the NIC unanimously backed the prime minister in his bid to protect the mosque.38 The Left’s Jyoti Basu later claimed that ‘On our party’s behalf we proposed that even Article 356 of the Constitution may be used if there is no other way to protect it [the mosque], though we have been opposing its use.’39 Crucially, Basu did not provide a categorical declaration that, as there was no other way to protect the mosque, Article 356 was justified in the present circumstance.

  With his Cabinet and the Opposition unwilling to make the decision for him, Rao turned to the Supreme Court. Kalyani Shankar says, ‘Rao badly wanted the Court to hand over receivership’40 of the mosque to the Central government. This legally elliptical manoeuvre would have given Rao control over the mosque without having to dismiss the Kalyan Singh government. The Supreme Court started hearings in late November. In the course of these hearings, Kalyan Singh—through his lawyers—swore to protect the mosque. The Supreme Court chose to believe him, and dismissed Rao’s request for receivership.41

  The intelligence bureau was Rao’s own detective force—to keep tabs on his Cabinet colleagues, on his enemies, and even on Sonia Gandhi. It is no surprise then that he asked the IB to send him reports from Ayodhya. The IB sent two reports that November. The first claimed that the mosque was under threat, but stopped short of recommending President’s rule. The second report, around early December, contained rumours that a VHP suicide squad was being trained to blow up the mosque on 6 December. This was an explosive claim, and the IB took great pains to stress that it was unverified. The lack of a clear message was typical of IB reports, a confidante of Rao says. ‘All IB reports present both arguments. If the mosque fell, they would say we predicted. If it didn’t, they would say we predicted.’

  Yet another factor that played in Rao’s mind was his relationship with the President of India, Shankar Dayal Sharma. As we saw in an earlier chapter, it was a relationship so poor that Rao’s archives chronicle strained, even rude, letters between the two. Sharma resented the fact that Rao would avoid spending hours in consultation with him; Rao found the President to be long-winded and professorial—an irony given that Rao himself could devolve into abstruse verbiage. On a previous occasion, when Rao had wanted to dismiss a state governor, Sharma had simply refused to answer the phone.42

  As per the Constitution, the Union Cabinet decision to dismiss the UP government would have to be approved by the President. Presidents are mostly paper tigers and have to eventually acquiesce to a Cabinet decision. But a President who sent back the recommendation for reconsideration—as Rao was afraid Sharma might—would have fuelled accusations that the Central government was acting against the Constitution.

  A final justification Rao could have employed to dismiss Kalyan Singh was a report by the Uttar Pradesh governor advocating President’s rule—something which Article 356 suggests. State governors are appointed by the Central government, and are usually not of independent mind. Unfortunately for Rao, the UP governor at the time, B. Satyanarayana Reddy, had been appointed by his predecessor V.P. Singh. He was not amenable to influence from the Centre. On 1 December 1992—five days before the kar seva—governor Reddy sent a letter recommending against Central rule. ‘[The] general law and order situation, especially on the communal front,’ he wrote, ‘is satisfactory.’43

  Narasimha Rao realized he was being checkmated. Kalyan Singh had not made one false move through the whole of November. The Union Cabinet—including rivals Sharad Pawar and Arjun Singh—were worried about Kalyan Singh’s intentions, but had stopped short of recommending his dismissal. The Supreme Court, the state governor and law ministry officials, all seemed against Central rule.

  Were Rao to invoke Article 356, the Supreme Court may well have held the decision to be unconstitutional since law and order had not yet broken down. As Rao told P.V.R.K. Prasad, ‘How could a democratically elected Government be dismissed as a precautionary measure without any valid reason? Would it be constitutional? Won’t we attract the odium of having resorted to a blatantly unconstitutional act?’44 The BJP would have cried Central tyranny and moved a no-confidence motion in Parliament—as they eventually did after 6 December. There was no certainty that the non-BJP opposition would back Rao, or that his own party would support him.

  On the other hand, not imposing Central rule carried risks. There was a significant chance that Babri Masjid would fall on 6 December. Though Kalyan Singh had publicly and legally sworn to protect the mosque, he had previously shown he could not be trusted. If the mosque fell, Rao’s government might fall too.

  Faced with these two options—both of which carried political risks—Rao decided not to impose Central rule, even though Godbole repeatedly asked him to operationalize the contingency plan.45 He decided, instea
d, to find a method to protect the mosque without imposing President’s rule. That way, his government and the mosque would both remain standing. What he proceeded to do has never been revealed before. Before detailing this alternative strategy, however, it is important to grasp where Rao was coming from, and look through the lens that coloured his view of India.

  Narasimha Rao was born into an observant Brahmin family. He came of political age fighting against the Muslim ruler of Hyderabad state, where he worked alongside the Hindu Mahasabha, Arya Samaj and the communists. His guru, Ramananda Tirtha, exemplified these contradictions: he was a Hindu swami, communist and Congressman—all rolled into one. Rao’s entire life had been wrapped around morning pujas and yearly pilgrimages. In April 1991, two months before becoming prime minister, he had accepted the post of the religious head of a Hindu order in Courtallam. For some, this religious past opens Rao up to charges of being anti-Muslim.

  There is no evidence for this accusation. It wasn’t just Rao who worked with Hindu groups during the liberation of Hyderabad in 1948; so had the entire state Congress. More than any Indian prime minister, Rao had grown up around Islam and Muslims. He was well read in Koranic text, and could speak Urdu and Persian better than he could Sanskrit. ‘There was no communalism in the man,’ his Muslim foreign secretary Salman Haidar says. ‘He was clean in heart.’46