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India Today

Shekhar Gupta

November 6, 2014

It is generally accepted wisdom that the Indira Gandhi years were the pinkest in India's economic history. Also, that her second phase (at the peak of her glory in 1971 till post-Emergency fall in 1977) was the most deeply socialist of three, the first being 1966-71 and the third 1980-84. Some of India's worst economic laws were enacted by her largely illegitimate Parliament during the Emergency, some even in its embarrassing sixth year. Most symbolically notable of these is the word socialist, along with secular, added to the Preamble of the Constitution.

The 30th anniversary of her assassination would probably have passed less eventfully if the formality of the usual official ceremony had not been dispensed with as Sardar Patel's birth anniversary on the same day got precedence, as you would expect now that we have our first Government of the Right, and unabashedly so. But this controversy provided just the spark needed to reignite some fresh debates on the years of our most significant prime minister so far. Much of the stuff on her politics, creative destruction of the Congress and Emergency, her iron will and patriotism is familiar to most Indians.

Fresh, intriguing and sometimes pleasant surprises, however, emerged on how her economic thinking evolved over these years. As you would expect, T.N. Ninan, our most formidable commentator on economy and business (and my executive editor at India Today, 1985-88), initiated this with a provocative column a few days before the anniversary. He said, intriguingly, that far from reinforcing her socialist drive, Indira Gandhi had actually begun to loosen things up, or at least start some review and introspection by the end of 1974, a year before the Emergency.

Briefly, his thesis is that by this time India was in deep economic distress. Inflation was running high, there was widespread popular disenchantment, and Indira made her most significant economic blunder yet. Under pressure from her durbari Leftist cabal, D.P. Dhar, P.N. Haksar, etc, she nationalised grain trade that too in a crisis year for agriculture. It caused such anger among farmers that, for the first time in her prime ministership, she was forced to withdraw a major decision. This set in motion the process of review and rethink. This was strengthened by two personalities, though one in departure and the other in arrival. In 1973, an Indian Airlines crash in New Delhi took away her steel and mines minister, and her most leftist comrade, Mohan Kumaramangalam, a former Communist Party member who had learnt as much ideology at Kings College, Cambridge, as law. Second was the rise of Sanjay Gandhi who, at least on his view of business and economy, was Kumaramangalam's opposite, even if you would not describe him as a libertarian in any other manner whatsoever.

One can find a great deal of wisdom and insight in Srinath Raghavan's brilliant essay on Indira Gandhi in Makers of Modern Asia, edited by Ramachandra Guha.

Raghavan says Indira's "socialist phase" continued till 1973. But this momentum was broken by a crisis inevitable in a post-war, populist economy. Monsoon failures and the 1973 oil shock, he reminds us, had taken our inflation rate to 33 per cent by late 1974. This also fuelled the JP movement. Indira first resorted to a tough anti-inflation squeeze, never mind the warnings of her Left ideologues that these would annoy people. She preferred, Raghavan tells us, the advice of the "more liberal" economic advisors, led by that virtuous usual suspect, Dr Manmohan Singh. She also approached the IMF for a $935 million (a lot then) bailout, quietly allowed the rupee to depreciate, thereby improving India's exports and reserves. Raghavan argues that 1973-74 "marked an important turning point" in her economic policy, one that remains "underappreciated". The shift, he says, was attitudinal more than substantive, but it brought growth. During 1975-78 India grew at 6 per cent per year, which was twice the fabled Hindu rate.

By1973-4 India faced 33% inflation, and historian Srinath Raghavan tells us Indira took the advice of the 'more liberal' economic advisors, led bythat virtuous usualsuspect, Dr Manmohan Singh.He quotes extensively from a fascinating exchange of letters between Indira and her close advisor and cousin, B.K. Nehru, whose views on economics seemed more liberal than on individual liberty he had hailed the Emergency as a "tour de force of immense courage". Now he was telling her to replace garibi hatao with utpadan badhao (increase production). Some of Nehru's lines are stunningly prescient, and we have been repeating the same thought, even if not so succinctly, during Sonia Gandhi's povertarian UPA 2. Raghavan quotes a December 1974 letter from an irritable Indira reminding Nehru that "under present conditions there can be no economic growth which ignores social justice" (Sounds familiar?). Nehru bravely joins that battle of ideas by asking whether "social justice [means] equality in poverty or growth in the size of the national cake which may continue to be divided in unequal portions if necessary". He goes on to argue that "all other objectives should be subordinated to this one objective of increasing production". This isn't much different from an oft-repeated lament of "equal distribution of poverty" by my economist friend Surjit Bhalla, who P. Chidambaram describes as being way to the right of Adam Smith, and which led me to the discovery of that trade-marked term, povertarianism.

But if one air crash had broken the socialist momentum, another intervened to disrupt her reformist phase as Sanjay died in his aerobatic plane so early in her new term (June 23, 1980). Indira did lose her will and spirit to a great extent and was never the same again. Her intellectual shift, however, continued.

I have it on the authority of several key officers and advisors who watched her closely, including foreign service giants like Jagat Mehta and J.N. Dixit, that she felt rotten at the position India was forced to take on the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. She felt humiliated that some of the speeches by our envoys at the UN sounded more grating than those of the Cubans. She also-probably-had the sense that the Cold War was going to end, and India couldn't afford to end up being totally on the loser's side. There is evidence that she had begun course-correction on foreign policy as well. In the 1981 multilateral summit at Cancun, Mexico, I believe she sought out Ronald Reagan, her first contact with the US at a high level after her disastrous time with Nixon. The following year she visited Washington and a process of mending relations was well and truly under way. She seems to have realised that in the new global strategic and economic order after the Cold War, India could not carry on being at odds with the West.

By 1983, however, India's internal security situation had deteriorated badly and left little scope for further economic action. Nellie and other massacres happened in Assam in February 1983. By this time Bhindranwale had risen, guns and all, in Punjab as well. What followed, until her assassination three decades ago, is relatively better known, more recent history. She has been deservedly given a place in history as a great patriot and martyr, a champion of India's integrity and sovereignty. Could it be that we have not yet fully appreciated her intellect and prescience on economic and foreign policies?

Postscript: While I was a full-time reporter 1977 onwards, I was too junior to get much opportunity to observe Indira Gandhi closely. My first, 10-minute, conversation with her was in 1979 as I button-holed her during a transit stop in Chandigarh, en route to Srinagar. She was out of power then, and had the patience for a persistent little reporter. I saw her up close again in somewhat different circumstances four years later as she came to Nellie a day after the terrible massacre that left more than 3,000 Muslims dead. There was fury writ large on her face. "Kitna dhoola udta hai " (how awfully dusty is it), she said several times as she walked out of the helicopter, its rotors hardly fully stationary yet. But her anger was not over the clouds of dust, as we soon saw.

She first looked daggers at KPS Gill (Inspector General of Police, Law and Order, in Assam) as if he were some delinquent neighbour and asked: "Kab tak jalta rahega yahan ?" (Until when will this place burn?) Only Gill could have the nerve to deal with that. "Let elections be over, Madam," then we will bring it to normal. Indira ignored him and walked ahead, officers, local party leaders struggling to keep pace.

She looked at the carnage, hundreds of bodies, fresh graves, the wounded. I do not believe I detected a tear in her eye. Just plain anger. As she turned around, the cowering figure of R.V. Subramanian, who ran the state under president's rule as chief advisor to the governor. "Teen hazaar Mussalman maare gaye, kaun jawab dega inko?" I remember she said "inko" and not "iska". She wasn't asking who was guilty, the first question was a moral, and political, one: how will we answer the Muslim minority?

By this time I saw her eyes turn moist. She put on her sunglasses, repeated the same question to a speechless Subramanian, turned and trudged back to her Mi-8, never mind the dust its rotors had already begun to churn. One thing I can tell you for sure. She would have been even more furious at the anti-Sikh carnage that followed her assassination.

1965: Prevented ban of first Chhattisgarhi film

The Times of India, Apr 30 2015

Avijit Ghosh

When Indira saved first Chhattisgarhi film from ban

Exactly 50 years ago, a section of brahmins in Raipur was outraged to know that Kahi Debe Sandesh, the first film in Chhattisgarhi dialect, was an inter-caste love story between a scheduled caste boy and a brahmin girl. They threatened to set fire to Manohar Talkies ­ it no longer exists ­ where the film was to be released and forced the owners to pull down the posters. The agitators wanted the movie to be banned. “But help came from two progressive Congress politicians: Mini Mata and Bhushan Keyur. Both spoke in favour of the movie. I was told Indira Gandhi (then I&B minister) also saw portions of the film and said the film promotes national integration. The protests died down after that,“ recalls the producer-directorwriter Manu Nayak, now 77.

Kahi Debe Sandesh (Convey the message) is today regarded as a classic. Earlier this month, it was shown at a film festival in Raipur amid acclaim to celebrate the golden jubilee of Chhattisgarhi cinema. The film had premiered on April 16, 1965 in Durg and Bhatapara. Due to the controversy, it was released in Raipur only in September 1965. “It ran for eight weeks at Rajkamal Talkies (now Raj),“ said Nayak, who lives in Mumbai.

How the movie was made is even more exciting than the controversy.As a teenager, Nayak ran away from Raipur to Bombay in 1957. After several twists and turns, he landed a job at the office of well-known director Mahesh Kaul (Naujawan) and top writer Pandit Mukhram Sharma (Ek Hi Raasta). Kaul and Sharma co-owned the banner, Anupam Chitra, which made films like Talaq (1958) and Diwana (1967).

“I was asked if I could copy dialogues in Hindi. Then I was asked to type something. I was hired for a salary of Rs 60 per month. When I left in 1963, it was Rs 300,“ he said.

Nayak was an odd jobs man at Anupam Chitra. Working with the two, he picked up the nuances of a script.NC Sippy, who later produced hits like Anand and Chupke Chupke, was the manager with the banner. “From him I learnt the business of cinema,“ he says.

The release of Ganga Maiyya Tohe Piyari Chadhaibo, the first Bhojpuri film in 1962, created nationwide rip ples. Many producers announced language films. “I was fired up with a desire to make a film in Chhattisgarhi. But Kaul saab discouraged me.He asked, `Where would you show the films? How many cinema halls will exhibit a Chhattisgarhi film'?“ Nayak said.

But he was consumed by the idea.To begin with, Nayak recorded a song by Mohammed Rafi, Jhamkat nadiya bahini laage (The flow ing river is my sister). “I paid him Rs 400 from my T pocket,“ he says. Malay Chakraborty, a singer in the famous Little Ballet s troupe, was the music director. 4 Raising money was the bigger problem and Nayak put his own borrowing from relai tives and friends. It was crowdsourcing before the word was invented.“If you count the print and publicity, it cost Rs 1.25 lakh,“ he says.

Salim Khan, superstar Salman's father, was the first choice to play male lead. “But he quit before the shooting started saying he'd got a role in a Bhappi Sonie film. Madhavi, the heroine of Hamari Yaad Aayegi, also left,“ Nayak says.

Finally, Nayak settled for theatre actor Kaan Mohan, hero of the first Sindhi film, Abana (1958). Uma, a newcomer, was the leading lady. Surekha, the heroine of KA Abbas's touching tale of the roofless urban underclass, Shaher aur Sapna, was the second lead. Kapil Kumar, who later made his name as a lyricist in Basu Bhattach arya films, also had a role.

The film was shot in village Pal ari, 70 km from Raipur, between Nov and Dec 1964. The shooting was over in 22 days because the raw stock was finished. The remaining portions and two songs were filmed in Mumbai.

Distribution was difficult. “Distribu tor Tarachand Barjatya offered Rs 70,000 for the film which was about 60% of the cost.I refused and distributed the film myself,“ says Nayak.

The black and white film was shown in theatres, touring cinemas and village fairs. “I spent the next two years paying off my debts. But I had the satisfaction of making the first Chhattisgarhi film,“ he says. Nayak never made a film again, working the next 40 odd years as production assistant in Bol lywood films.

Now Chhattisgarhi films are a mini industry. In 2000, Bastar-born Satish Jain's film Mor Chhaihan Bhu inya (My shadow and earth) hit the bull's eye prompting a flurry of mov ies in the dialect over the next decade.

But Nayak isn't happy. “In today's films, only the dialogues are in Chhat tisgarhi. Nothing else ­ neither the characters nor the ambience ­ have the regional flavour,“ he says.

1975

Tapping IB to guess verdict in election malpractices case

The Times of India, Sep 20, 2015

'Indira tapped Intelligence Bureau to gauge verdict in 1975 case'

Forty years after the momentous Allahabad HC verdict which declared then PM Indira Gandhi's election to the Lok Sabha void, culminating in the imposition of Emergency, former Intelligence Bureau chief TV Rajeswar has revealed how the agency tried to find out which way the wind was blowing in the case.

In a memoir that hit the stands on Saturday, Rajeswar writes that there was "keenness bordering on fear" on the part of those close to Gandhi to find out what was going on in the mind of justice Jagmohanlal Sinha, who was the judge in the case.

Rajeswar says he sent an experienced IB officer J N Roy to make discreet enquiries. "Roy found to his dismay that justice Sinha's personal assistant more or less stayed in the judge's house and could not be reached at all. Some of justice Sinha's colleagues, who tried to draw him out in the course of casual conversation, found him totally non-communicative. We drew a blank," writes Rajeswar, who was IB joint director during the Emergency,

On June 12, 1975, Justice Sinha declared Gandhi guilty of dishonest election practices, excessive poll expenditure and of using government machinery and officials for party purposes. He ruled her election void and also barred her from running for any office for six years. Though she did get a conditional stay, the Supreme Court suspended her right to vote in the House as an MP. The opposition launched an agitation and, on June 25, Gandhi imposed the Emergency.

"The IB wasn't consulted on the Emergency," Rajeswar told TOI. He said that six months into the Emergency, the IB advised calling it off, releasing all prisoners and going for polls in March 1976. "Mrs Gandhi was inclined to go with the IB's view but in the end, it was Sanjay Gandhi who had a decisive say," writes Rajeswar.

Mathai claimed intimacy with Indira Gandhi

The Times of India, September 22, 2015

Former Intelligence Bureau (IB) chief T V Rajeswar has claimed the exist claimed the existence of a highly controversial “missing“ chapter in the memoirs of M O Mathai, the private secretary of Jawaharlal Nehru, in which he allegedly wrote about his purported intimacy with Indira Gandhi. He told a TV channel that in 1981, when he was IB director, M G Ramachandran, then Tamil Nadu chief minister, had given him the chapter. Rajeswar in turn handed it to Indira Gandhi. She received it without comment. When asked if he read the chapter, Rajeswar said “I did not. There was no need. There was no discussion.“ The de tails of the episode form part of Rajes war's recently pub lished book “India, The Crucial Years“. The “missing“ chapter was apparent chapter was apparently removed before the publication of Mathai's memoirs. Accord ing to the publisher's note on page 153, the chapter was with drawn by Mathai himself.

1984: Assassination

India Today December 29, 2008

It was a political assassination that shocked the nation perhaps as profoundly as that of Mahatma Gandhi in 1948. On the morning of October 31, 1984, prime minister Indira Gandhi had an appointment with well-known actor Peter Ustinov to record an interview. But it was an appointment she could not keep. “She died in the one contingency that her legion of security officials had been unable to guard against: traitors from within her own security guards,” said India Today in November 1984.

1984: After her assassination

Delhi Police told to report to PMO

The Times of India, May 9, 2016

Academic and journalist Vinay Sitapati -given unprecedented access to hundreds of P V NarasimhaRao's personal papers -reveals how as home minister, Rao received a phone call on the evening of October 31, 1984 from a Congressman very close to Rajiv, informing him that Delhi Police, from the commissioner to SHOs, would report directly to the PMO, bypassing Rao.

The ostensible reason was to better contain violence in the aftermath of Indira's assassination. The less charitable explanation was to ensure inaction, at least for a couple of days, while Sikhs were attacked by Congress-led mobs.

1984: Death threats to Thatcher for attending funeral

The Times of India, Jul 18 2015

`Thatcher got death threats for attending Indira funeral’

Former British prime minister Margaret Thatcher had received death threats to her life in the wake of Indira Gandhi's assassination in October 1984, according to newly-declassified UK government documents. Thatcher flew down to New Delhi to attend her funeral on November 3 that year against the backdrop of at least two documented threats to her life. The UK embassy in Helsinki had received a phone call from a man with a "Middle Eastern or Asian accent" who said: “I have a feeling there is going to be an attack on Thatcher. I have never been wrong before,“ according to a telegram to the UK Foreign and Commonwealth Office released under the 30-year declassification rule.