The last Empress of India

Press, 7 April 1982, Page 17

The last Empress of India

No-one was in much doubt about who was the star at the Festival of India which opened with an inaugural concert, at London’s South Bank last month. True, the Prince of Wales was there and so was Mrs Thatcher — both were cast into shadow by the overpowering presence of Mrs Indira Gandhi, India’s own Prime Minister. SUNANDA DATTA RAY wrote the following profile for the London “Observer.”

Her presence is Indira Gandhi’s main, possibly her only, gift. She unerringly exploits it to bewitch the nation over which she rules. From a rostrum high above a sea of faces, she appeals simply, if a shade shrilly, straight to the hearts. of peasants and working folk who want only to be assured that somebody cares. ■ '

She can be winningly gra-cious-in private conversation — with an endearing trick of batting her eyes, a half smile playing about her lips. Both are conscious projections of a woman who has mastered the art of charm but whose true self is rigorously concealed, and whose look, if you happen to catch her unawares, is often one of disdain.

Personal disappointments may partly explain this inability to convey genuine warmth. Estranged for years from the husband she defied Nehru to marry, restlessly seeking solace from gurus and astrologers, cruelly deprived by the death of Sanjay, the son on whom she dotes and who so enthusiastically shored up her position when it was crumbling, Mrs Gandhi probably long ago replaced the quest for domestic -fulfilment with an almost mystic conviction in her political mission. It is a measure of her will that private grief has never been allowed to mar her public appearances except, perhaps, when tears could be expected to yield a dividend. Nor did sentiment prevent her from ruthlessly crushing the political ambitions of Sanjay Gandhi’s talented and vivacious young widow, Maneka. The survival of her own career demanded that her other son, Rajiv, formerly an airline pilot, should be coaxed into Parliament and anointed heir apparent. That instinct, surpassing and subordinating all more human passions, is reflected in a fine sense of strategy and the mastery with which Mrs Gandhi creates controversies simply to vanquish rivals. Even-the harsh Emergency Rule she imposed in 1975 was a diversionary tactic.

It was the only way of circumventing . the restrictions imposed by the Allahabad High Court when it nullified .her election to Parliament of arresting the gathering momentum of a major opposition campaign to unseat her, and of preventing some of her own disgruntled

colleagues from inciting a parallel rebellion within the ranks of Congress itself. Mrs Gandhi has twice split the party to secure her leadership and would readily do so again if repeated pu-ges had not left the field barren of potential challengers. Complex and calculating she may be, but at 64 (bom on November 19, 1917) with her carefully tended ■mane of white hair and deceptively fragile good looks, Jawaharlal Nehru’s daughter still incarnates India as noone else can.

Lumbering on an elephant’s. back, through squelching mud to weep with Harijan (untouchable) victims of massacre, exquisitely groomed and manicured to call on visiting dignitaries in New Delhi’s Lutyens presidential palace, or dishevelled and distraught, the persecuted widow defending her rights before Desai’s vengeful Shah Commission, Mrs Gandhi never gives a performance less than the situation demands. Somewhere a woman of taste and culture lurks behind Mrs Gandhi’s changing public masks. At home she collects old maps, encourages modern Indian painters, and makes a point of never missing a bookexhibition. Yet the civilised private citizen is seldom reflected in the, public figure. If it were, she could hardly endure the sycophancy by which she is now surrounded.

The Commerce Minister, Shivraj Patil, artlessly proclaims “she knows everything”. The flamboyant Vasant Sathe, whose portfolio embraces press, radio and television, goes one step further by iinembarrassedly declaring: “She is becoming the leader of the human race in her own right.” ,

State chief ministers, once the sturdy spokesmen of regional nationalism, are now directly chosen by Mrs Gandhi and hold office only at her pleasure. “Everything depends on Madam,” wailed Andhra Pradesh's Tangaturi Anjiah as he was pushed out recently, apparently for falling foul of Rajiv Gandhi.

Maharashtra’s more controversial Abdul .Rehman Antulay did not save his job by exhorting the faithful to “substitute Mrs Gandhi for Mahatma Gandhi” as the new saviour. But an insecure Arjun Singh, Chief Minister of Madhya Pradesh, hopes to avert dismissal by loudly admitting that he is where he is “by the grace of God and the benediction of the leader of the nation, Mrs Indira Gandhi.”

In this cloyingly servile atmosphere, typified by the morning gatherings when the Prime Minister holds court like a medieval potentate, the world knew at once that Gundu Rai,- the brashly outspoken chief minister of Karnataka, was out of favour when Mrs Gandhi kept him waiting for an .audience.

So firm is her grip, politicians shrivelling in fear at a glimpse of a prime ministerial frown, that in spite of persistent talk of a presiden-

tial constitution, Mrs Gandhi does not need more Draconian laws or a formally centralised system to enforce her will. Her supremacy is inherent in the hierarchical structure - of Indian society and in what amounts to a monarchy by consent, the investiture of an elected politician with the divine right of kings.

Of course, it would have been impossible in the past to govern India without this magic aura. Today, though, there are some signs that the Nehru dynasty’s mystique, and the habit of compulsive obedience to a strong central regime, may be wearing thin for ethnic minorities like the Mizos and the Manipuris in the North-East, for Assam state which believes its linguistic identity is in danger, for turbulent trade unions, ideologically committed parties like West Bengal’s ruling Marxists, and even for Sikhs, now demanding a separate homeland, and India’s 40 million aborigines.

More and more Mrs Gandhi has to rely on legislation outlawing separatist movements, banning industrial strikes, and sanctioning imprisonment without trial. The old Crown Reserve Police, the private army of British viceroys, reborn as the Central Reserve Police, its numbers vastly increased, is becoming a necessary prop for New Delhi’s rule.

Nor is that the only sign of Mrs Gandhi’s ■ manipulation of her imperial inheritance. Egalitarian rhetoric is not allowed to be translated into action that might seriously hurt caste leaders, land-

owners and businessmen who mobilise votes and rake in the money for the Congress coffers. She threatens to clip the judiciary’s wings to promote “social justice” only when the higher courts strike down some highhanded governmental fiat, never when the lower courts turn a blind eye to glaring injustice against Hinduism’s traditional outcasts.

The chant of “Indira is India, India is Indira,” heard during the repressive days of the Emergency, remains every bit as true today. The identification makes it pointless to measure Mrs Gandhi’s

success or failure by the drab yardstick of economic growth or administrative efficiency. Nor is it relevant to complain that the pledge of “a government that works,” with which she triumphantly returned to power in January, 1980, has not been redeemed.

Opposition politicians and the professional classes, a minuscule segment of Indian society, may grumble; but the people do not expect deities to attend to such mundane matters. Mrs Gandhi’s flashes of sympathy for suffering, stirring calls to grandeur (victory in Bangladesh, annexation for Sikkim, the 1974 nuclear explosion) and the indisputable courage she has always displayed are the heady ingredierits of the magic that sustains her.

Deeply suspicious of the press, she is nevertheless always readily accessible to visiting journalists and TV crews, at least partly because she knows that exposure in the foreign, especially Western, media illustrates her halo al. home.

. Nehru once described his daughter as “extraordinarily imaginative and self-centred or subjective, remarkably selfish. She lives in - a world of dreams and. vagaries and floats about on imaginary clouds, full probably of all manner of brave fancies”. But Mrs Gandhi need not fear rejection so long as. she can continue to share her dreams and her fancies with the people who call her Mother. Copyright — London Observer Service. ’

A woman of taste

Ingredients of magic