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A Phenomenal Statesman & Poet: LK Advani's tribute to Atal Bihari Vajpayee

Excerpts from senior BJP leader L K Advani's autobiographical book, My Country My Life

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Atal Bihari Vajpayee shares a light moment with long-time close party colleague LK Advani
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Atal Bihari Vajpayee: A Statesman With A Poetic Soul (A Tribute to Atal Bihari Vajpayee)

Haar nehi maanoonga/ Raar nehi thamoonga

Kal ke kapaal par likhata-mitaata/ geet naya gaata hoon

(I shall never accept defeat; Ever shall get ready for a new battle; I am he who erases old things and writes new things on the forehead of Time; I sing a new song) — Atal Bihari Vajpayee

If I have to single out one person who has been an integral part of my political life almost from its inception till now, one who has remained my close ally in the party for well over fifty years, I have always unhesitatingly accepted it would be Atal Bihari Vajpayee. Many political observers have noted that it is only rare but, indeed, unparalleled in independent India's political history for two political personalities to have worked together in the same organisation for so long and with such a strong spirit of partnership. In the Prologue to this book, I have referred to a photograph of Atalji, Bhairon Singh Shekhawat and myself, taken in Rajasthan in 1952. It was reproduced by a Hindi daily, along with a similar-looking photograph of the three of us in 2003, with a common caption: 'Working Together, For Over A Half-Century.' I regard this long comradeship with Atalji a proud and invaluable treasure of my political life.

First Impression, Last Impression

I first met Atalji in late 1952. As a young activist of the Bharatiya Jana Sangh, he was passing through Kota in Rajasthan, where I was a pracharak of the RSS. He was accompanying Dr Mookerjee's Political Secretary those days. Looking back, the image I recall most vividly is that of a young and intense-looking political activist, nearly as lean as myself, although I looked leaner because I was taller. I could easily tell that he was imbued with youthful idealism and carried around him the aura of a poet who had drifted into politics. Something was smouldering within him, and the fire in his belly produced an unmistaken glow on his face. He was twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old then. At the end of this first tour, I said to myself that here was an extraordinary young man, and I must get to know him.

Atalji became the Founder-Editor of Panchajanya, a nationalist weekly in 1948, and as its regular reader, I was already familiar with his name. Indeed, I had been much influenced by his powerful editorials and some of his poems that the journal published from time to time. The journal was also my introduction to the thoughts of Pandit Deendayal Upadhyaya, who had launched it in Lucknow under the auspices of Rashtradharma Prakashan, a publisher of nationalist literature. I later learnt that, along with Atalji, he used to perform multiple roles in the weekly: a regular contributor who wrote under many pseudonyms, proofreader, compositor, binder and manager. For someone like me, who had recently learnt Hindi, Panchajanya was a useful introduction to the innate beauty and purity of the language, as also to its immense capacity to convey patriotic inspiration.

Sometime later, Atalji came alone on a political tour of Rajasthan and I accompanied him throughout his journey. It was during this trip that I got to know him better, my second impression of him reinforcing the first. His remarkable personality, his outstanding oratory whereby he could hold tens of thousands of people literally spellbound, his inimitable political issues with wit and humour — all these traits made a deep impact on me. At the end of this second tour, I felt that he was a man of destiny, a leader who deserved to lead India some day.

Hollow-Travellers On The Long Political Journey

That was a time when, after Dr Mookerjee, the person who mattered the most in the Jana Sangh was Deendayalji. He too thought highly of Atalji and gave him greater responsibility in the party and Parliament after Dr Mookerjee's tragic demise in May 1953. Within a short time, Atalji established himself as the most charismatic leader of the party. Although the Jana Sangh was only a young sapling before a giant tree called the Congress, people thronged to listen to Atalji's speeches, even in places where the party had no roots. Besides his oratory, they were also that distinguished out party from the Congress and the Communists. He thus showed, at a very young age, all signs of emerging as a mass leader with a nationwide appeal.

After Atalji was elected to Parliament in 1957, Deendayalji made another move — one concerning me. Deendayalji asked me to relocate from Rajasthan to Delhi and assist Atalji in his parliamentary work. Ever since then, Atalji and I have worked together in every phase of the evolution of the Jana Sangh and, later, the BJP. Soon after entering the Lok Sabha, he became the voice of the party in Parliament, commanding a reputation far in excess of its numerical presence. A decade later, after the tragic death of Deendayalji in February 1968, he also had to carry the responsibility of party Presidentship. It was an extremely difficult period in the party's history, but Atalji soon emerged as a capable leader, steering the Jana Sangh out of the deep morass. That was when the slogan Andhere mein ek chingaari Atal Bihari Atal Bihari (Atal Bihari is the ray of hope in this pervasive darkness) became widely popular with the workers and supporters of our party.


((L-R) VP Singh, Harkishan Singh Surjeet, Atal Bihari Vajpayee, HD Deve Gowda and IK Gujral)

Five years later, in 1973, he entrusted the party's organisational responsibility to me. The camaraderie that I enjoyed with Atalji, Nanaji Deshmukh, Kushabhau Thakre, Sundar Singh Bhandari and others while building the party together, remains a deeply cherished part of my political journey. By the time Indira Gandhi imposed the Emergency in June 1975, the Jana Sangh had already earned the reputation of the strongest and most organised Opposition party. No wonder, it also earned the trust and confidence of Jayaprakash Narayan, and became the most spirited contingent of the phalanx of pro-democracy fighters that he mobilised on a common platform. Once again, Atalji and I fought together, went to prison together and, after the Emergency was lifted, worked together towards the formation of the Janata Party. Indeed, after JP's health started to deteriorated (he passed away on 8 October 1979), no two persons worked harder with greater conviction than Atalji and I for the cohesion of the Janata Party and the stability of its government.


Paradoxically, the price we paid for our effort to preserve the Janata Party's unity was that we were expelled from the party of the specious 'dual-member issue'. Once again, along with other colleagues, I worked with Atalji in founding the BJP in 1980. True, the party's debut performance in the 1984 Lok Sabha elections was dismal — we won only two seats. Even Atalji was defeated in Gwalior. However, this was entirely due to the extraordinary situation created by the assassination of Indira Gandhi. It wasn't really a Lok Sabha poll; it was rather a 'Shok Sabha' poll, where the sympathies were bound to be with the bereaved.

The BJP's subsequent trajectory of meteoric growth was due to the Ayodhya movement. It was the time when Atalji chose to remain relatively inactive. However, I have never had any doubt — that the party's journey from the failure to form a stable government at the Centre in 1996 (when Atalji was Prime Minister for only thirteen days) to the success to do so again in 1998, was mainly due to his personal popularity that transcended the party's support base. Once again, we both worked closely together to forge the NDA, breaking the shackles of political 'untouchability' that the Congress and the Communists had tried to create.

For a long time after I launched the Ram Rath Yatra in 1990 to mobilise support for the Ayodhya movement, a peculiar asymmetry arose in the media's projection of Atalji and me. Whereas Atalji was seen as a liberal, I was labelled as a 'Hindu hardliner'. It hurt me initially, as I knew that the reality was entirely contrary to the image that I had come to acquire. Conveying this feeling to friends in the media was an uphill task and it was then that some colleagues in my party, who were well aware of my sensitivity to my portrayal, advised me not to battle the image problem. They said, "Advaniji, in fact, it helps the BJP to have one leader who is projected as a liberal and another leader projected as a hardliner.'

In the wake of being falsely charged in the 'hawala case', I had announced that I would not -re-enter the Lok Sabh until I was exonerated by the judiciary. Therefore, I had not offered myself as a candidate in the 1996 parliamentary elections. It was Atalji who contested from Gandhinagar in Gujarat, in addition to contesting from his own traditional constituency of Lucknow. I was deeply touched by his public display of trust and solidarity towards me. Expectedly, he won with a huge margin from both constituencies, and although he later resigned from Gandhinagar to keep its membership in Lucknow, his gesture energised the party and gave to the people, at large, an unmistakable message about unity at the top in the BJP. It was the same message that had gone out from the party's Maha Adhivesh in Mumbai in 1995, when I, as party President, announced his name as the BJP's Prime Ministerial candidate in the parliamentary elections in the following year.

Why did I make that announcement? There was much idle speculation on this point at the time, and some of it, sadly, continues even today. Some people in the party and the Sangh had chided me then for making the announcement. 'In our estimation,' they said, 'you would be a better person to lead the government if the party wins the people's mandate.' I replied and did so with all the sincerity and conviction at my command, that I disagreed with their opinion. 'In the perspective of the people, I am more of an ideologue than a mass leader. It is true that the Ayodhya movement has changed my profile in Indian politics. But Atalji is out leader. He has a far higher stature and much greater acceptability among the masses. He has an appeal that transcends the BJP's traditional ideological support base. He would be acceptable not only to the allies of the BJP, but, far more importantly, to the people of India.' Some of them insisted that I had made a big sacrifice by this announcement. However, I was steadfast. 'What I have done is not an act of sacrifice. It is the outcome of a rational assessment of what is right and what is in the best interest of the party and the nation.'

Along with all out other colleagues, the two of us worked together to bring the BJP to power in 1998. I served as his deputy in the government. This relationship was formalised when I was appointed Deputy Prime Minister on 29 June 2002. I said to the media that day: 'It is a matter of honour for me and I wish to thank the Prime Minister and all out partners in the NDA.' I added, however, that this did not signify any change in my job profile. 'The Prime Minister used to consult me even earlier and I have been doing similar kind of work before. Yes, in the eyes of the public and my cabinet colleagues, my responsibilities have increased.' I also hastened to scotch rumours, which were being spread by some hostile elements in media and political circles that my formal elevation as Deputy Prime Minister would lead to the creation of a parallel power centre.

The 2002 Presidential Election

In early 2002, discussions had begun within the BJP and the NDA about who should be our candidate in the election for the new President of India as Dr KR Narayanan's terms was coming to an end in July. Our internal deliberations were guided by two overriding criteria. Firstly, the new President should be a person of high stature, and suitable in all respects to occupy the august office. Secondly, we wanted the person to be preferably outside the ranks of the BJP because of our keen desire to convey a message to the nation that our party believed in inclusivity.

Surprisingly, our choice promptly zeroed in on a candidate who had nothing whatsoever to do with our party. Rather, he was closely associated with two former Prime Ministers, Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi, of the Congress. It was Dr PC Alexander, who was then serving as the Governor of Maharashtra. It was I who first proposed Dr Alexander's name to Atalji and to other key leaders in the NDA. I had been highly impressed by his performance as Governor, and so was Atalji, who readily agreed with any suggestion. His name found ready and enthusiastic acceptance from the Congress for the candidature of Dr PC Alexander, the NDA chose another eminently worthy candidate, Dr APJ Abdul Kalam, to succeed Dr Narayanan.


(Atal Bihari Vajpayee with APJ Abdul Kalam)

I would like to mention here a significant development that took place at the time. One day I received a call from Prof Rajju Bhaiyya, who was then Sarsanghchalak of the RSS, saying that he wanted to discuss something important with me. I invited him over the following morning, and over breakfast, he narrated to me the details of a meeting he had had with Atalji the previous evening. 'I had gone to the Prime Minister's residence to discuss the issue of the Presidential election. I suggested to him, 'Aap hi kyon nahin Rashtrapati bante?' (Why don't you become the President?) I gave my reasons for making this suggestion — principally that, in view of his knee trouble*, it would be less taxing for him to shoulder the responsibility of Rashtrapati Bhavan. Besides, the people would consider him to be the ideal choice in view of his stature and experience.'


I asked him what Atalji's response had been. Rajju Bhaiyya said that Atalji had been hesitant. 'He said neither yes nor no. I, therefore, think that he has not rejected my suggestion'. I then mentioned to Rajju Bhaiyya that the NDA leaders had formally met only three days earlier to discuss the issue of Presidential election and unanimously resolved to authorise the Prime Minister to finalise a suitable, nationally acceptable candidate. In the end, everybody accepted Atalji's decision in the matter.

A Relationship Moored in Mutual Trust and Respect

Experience has taught me that long-lasting and fulfilling relationships in politics are possible only on the basis of mutual trust, respect and commitment to certain shared lofty goals. Politic driven by power play is, by its very nature, competitive, and conflict-ridden. But politics driven by a common ideology and nurtured by common ideals and sanskars is a different matter altogether. When a higher purpose brings a set of people together, they learn to overlook and side-line small matters and personality-related issues. Many people have asked me, 'How did your partnership with Atalji endure for over 50 years? Did you never have any differences or problems with him?'

I can well understand the puzzlement in this question. But I can also say, in all honesty, that, contrary to what some people have been speculating since decades now, the relationship between Atalji and me was never competitive, much less combative. I do not imply that we never had any difference of opinion. Yes, we have sometimes had divergent views. Our personalities are different and naturally, our judgements on individuals, events and issues have differed on many occasions. This is natural in any organisation that values internal democracy. However, what lent depth to our relationship were three factors. We both were strongly moored in the ideology, ideals and ethos of the Jana Sangh and the BJP, which commanded all its member to put the Nation first, Party next, and Self last. We never allowed differences to undermine mutual trust and respect. But there was also a third and very important factor: I always implicitly and unquestionably accepted Atlaji to be my senior and my leader.

From the early stages of our association, I always used to submit to whatever Atalji decided with regard to organisational and political matters. I would put forth my views but once I sensed what Atalji wanted, I would invariably go along with his viewpoint or preference. My responses were so predictable that sometimes my colleagues in the party, or leaders in the RSS, would express their displeasure over what they perceived as my inability or unwillingness to disagree with Atalji's decisions. This, however, made no difference to my conviction that Atalji's must be the last word in all party-related — and, later, in government-related — matters. Dual or collective leadership is a poor substitute to unify in command. I used to tell my colleagues, 'No family can stay together without a mukhiya (head), whose authority is unquestionably accepted by all its members. After Deendayalji, Atalji is the mukhiya of our family.'

Here I must also add that Atalji had an accommodative approach towards me. If he knew what my thinking was on a certain issue, and if he did not have serious disagreements over it, he would readily say, 'Jo Advaniji Kehte hain, who theek hai.' (what Advani says is right.) Thereafter, the matter under discussion would be immediately clinched.

Throughout the six years of the NDA government, speculation about the non-existent 'Atal-Advani conflict' was a favourite pastime for few in the media and political circles. Atalji refuted this speculation on numerous occasions, both within Parliament and outside. In an interview given to India Today, he was asked; 'How are your relations with Home Minister L.K. Advani? Is the BJP pulling in different directions?' His reply was forthright: 'I talk to Advaniji each day. We consult each other daily. Yet you people speculate. Like a record stuck in a groove. One more time, let me say there is no problem. When there is, I'll let you know.'



((L-R) LK Advani, Atal Bihari Vajpayee, Bhairon Singh Shekhawat and Sushma Swaraj)

Some Differences

Let me cite two examples when significant differences arose between Atalji and me. He had some reservations about the BJP getting directly associated with the Ayodhya movement. But being a thorough democrat by conviction and temperament, and always willing to respect the consensus among colleagues. Atalji accepted the collective decision of the party. The second instance pertains to the time when communal violence broke out in Gujarat after the mass killing of kar sevaks in Godhra in February 2002, The Gujarat government, and, in particular, the Chief Minister Narendra Modi attracted severe condemnation on account of the aftermath of the barbaric incident. The demand for Modi's resignation raised by the opposition parties had reached a crescendo. Some people within the BJP and the ruling NDA coalition also had begun to think that Modi should be asked to quit. However, my view on this matter was totally indifferent. I was convinced, after talking to a large number of people belonging to various sections of society in Gujarat, that Modi was being unfairly targeted. He was, in my opinion, more sinned against than sinning.

I, therefore, felt that it would be unfair to make Modi, who had become the state's chief minister less than a year ago, a scapegoat for what was decidedly a complex a communal situation. Doing so, I reckoned, could worsen the social fabric Gujarat in the long term. I knew that Atalji was profoundly pained as I was due to the happenings in Gujarat.

Since the formation of our government in March 1998, we had taken pride in having succeeded in drastically reducing the incident of communal violence in the country. Our performance, prior to 2002, had stood to stark contrast to our opponents' vile allegations that, once the BJP came to power at the Centre, Muslims and Christians would be at the receiving end of the Hindu communal frenzy all over the country. Indeed, Atalji's government had started earning the goodwill of not only the Muslims in India but also of Muslim countries around the world. All of a sudden, after the outbreak of communal violence in Gujarat, the image of our party and government at Centre had been hurt due to the vitriolic propaganda by our ideological adversaries.

This was weighing on Atalji's mind. He felt that something needed to be done, some affirmative action needed to be taken. Meanwhile, pressure was mounting on him to ask Modi to resign. Although Atalji had not expressed his view explicitly on this matter, I knew that he favoured Modi's resignation. And he knew that I disfavoured it.

Shortly thereafter, in the second week of April 2002, the BJP National Executive was to meet in Goa. The attention of the media and the political circles was focussed on how the party was going to discuss Gujarat and what it would decide on Modi's fate. Atalji asked me to accompany him on his journey from New Delhi to Goa. Sitting along with us in the special aircraft in the Prime Minister's separate enclosure, were Jaswant Singh, Minister of External Affairs, and Arun Shourie, Minister of Communications and Information Technology. Early on during the two-hour journey, the discussion veered round to Gujarat. There was a long spell of silence as Atalji went into a contemplative mood, which was broken into Singh asking him, "What do you think Atalji?"

Atalji replied, "Kam se kam isteefe to ka offer to karte"."(Modi should have at least offered to resign.) I then said, "If Narendra's quitting going to improve the situation in Gujarat, I am willing to tell him to offer to resignation. But I do not think that it would help. Also, I am not sure whether the party's National Council Executive would accept the offer."

As soon as we arrived in Goa, I called Modi and said that he would offer to resign. He readily agreed. When the deliberations of the national executive began, many members spoke and put across their points of view. After listening to all of them, Modi spoke and recounted in great detail the whole sequence of events, both Godhra related and post-Godhra. He also gave the background of communal tension in Gujarat and explained how, in previous decades, it used to erupt in frequent riots, crippling Ahmedabad and other cities for weeks and sometimes months together. He concluded his speech by saying, "Nevertheless, as head of the government I take responsibility for what has happened in my state. I am ready to tender my resignation."

The moment Modi said that the meeting hall reverberated with a thunderous response from the hundred-odd members of the party's top decision-making body and special invitees. "Isteefa maat do, isteefa maat do," (Don't resign, don't resign.) I then separately ascertained the views of senior leaders of the party on this matter. Each one of them, without exception, said, "No, he must not resign." Some, like late Pramod Mahajan, were more emphatic. "Saaval hi nehi uthta". (The question of his quitting simply doesn't arise.)

Thus ended the debate inside the party on an issue that had generated deeply divided opinions in Indian society and polity. While the party's decision in Goa did displease many people in the country, it is equally true that it was in line with the wishes of a much longer section of our society. In Gujarat itself, the decision met with the approval of an overwhelming majority of the people.

Politics often entails making difficult choices. The difficulty lies in the very complexity of the issues and the situations that one is called upon to deal with. A tough choice is sometimes an unacceptable one. But I believe that when one is convinced about the merits of one's decision not to ask Modi to resign.

The decision in Goa did displease many people in the country; it is equally true that it was in line with a much larger section of our society. In Gujarat itself, the decision met with the approval of an overwhelming majority of the people.

Politics often entails making difficult choices. The difficulty lies in the very complexity of the issue and situations that is called upon to deal with. A tough choice is sometimes an unpalatable one. But I believe that, when one is convinced about the merits of one's decision, one must not hesitate to stand by it. History has indeed vindicated the party's decision to ask Modi to resign.

Phir Subah Hogi

'Memory,' said Oscar Wilde, 'is the diary that we all carry about with us'. When I revisit this 'diary' for all the notings on Atalji, I find that the points of convergence far outnumber the points of divergence, and what we accomplished together gives me far greater satisfaction than where we failed. And even when we did not succeed, we did not let disappointment dishearten us. Life, I believe, is all about cherishing those moments in one's memory when hope triumphed over despair, light dispelled darkness, and a new day of opportunity dawned after each night of adversity. Atalji was the provider of hope and direction at many a difficult turn in our party's long journey, and I am happy to have seen saha-yatri (fellow-traveller) all through this journey.

All those who have closely interacted with Atalji know that he is a statesman with rare humility and sensitivity, which are qualities imparted by his poetic soul. His political personality cannot be adequately understood without an appreciation of his poetry. Like all his admirers, I too have been inspired by his poems - especially by his rendering of them at party conferences and other public events. There is, for example, a poem he wrote during the Emergency, which Dinanath Mishra published in the underground journal Janavani. It not only captured the mood of the time but has continued to motivate democracy-lovers ever since.

Staya ka sangharsh satta se, nyaya ladta hai nirankushata se

Andhere ne di chunauti hai, kiran antim ast hoti hai

Daanv pas sab kuh lagaa hai, ruk nahin sakte

Toot sakte hain, magar jhuk nahin sakte

(Truth us battling against power, justice against tyranny/ Darkness has thrown a challenge, the last ray of light is vanishing/ we have put everything at stake, Stop we now cannot / we might break, but we shall not bend.)

There is another poem that Atalji write when he was in the tenth standard, which holds a mirror to his strong nationalist convictions even at a very young age. Till date I have not come across a more powerful poetic expression of patriotism and Hindu pride than in following lines:

Hokar swantantra main ne kab chaaha hai kar loon jaag ko gulaam?

Main ne to sada sikhaya hai karana apne man ko gulaam.

Gopal-Ram ke namamon par kab main ne atyaachar kiye?

Kar duniya ko Hindu karne ghar-ghar mein nara-samhaar kiye?

Koyi batalaaye Kabul mein jaakar kitni masjid maine todi?

Bhoo-bhag nahin, shat-shat maanav ke hriday jeetane ka nishchay

Hindu tan-man, Hindu jeevan, rag-rag Hindu mera parichay

(When have I desired that, after attaining freedom, I should enslave the word? I have all along taught only how to control one's own mind. How many atrocities have I committed in the name of Ram and Krishna? When did I commit carnages in home after home to convert others to Hinduism? Will someone tell me how many mosques did I break in Kabul? My resolve has been to conquer not territories, but the hearts of millions of human beings. My body is Hindu, mind is Hindu, my life is Hindu, and the identity of every blood-vessel is Hindu.)

When I look back at the time I have spent with Atalji in innumerable situations and think of the best way of concluding this tribute to him, the moment I most fondly recall is a film we watched together sometime in 1959. Watching Hindi movies was our common interest, and until the mid-1970s, it took us frequently to Regal and other theatres in Delhi, Atalji and I, along with hundreds of workers of the Jana Sangh, had worked hard for some by-election to the Delhi Municipal Corporation.

In spite of our best efforts, victory had eluded our party, plunging us into a state of dejection. Atalji then said to me, 'Chalo koi cinema dekhne chalte hain'. (Let's go watch a film.) The two of us went to Imperial theatre in Paharganj to watch a film starring Raj Kapoor, the legendary actor and filmmaker.

The film, loosely based on Fyodor Dostoyevsky's acclaimed novel Crime and Punishment, was set in the aftermath of India's Independence. It depicted injustice to the poor and people's disillusionment over the non-fulfilment of promises of the Nehruvian era. However, it also urged them to be patient and hopeful for the new 'dawn' was yet to come. Its optimistic message, quite appropriate for the downbeat mood that both Atalji and I were in, was captured in its title: Phir Subah Hogi (There will be a new dawn again).

On many occasions in later years, especially after a major electoral defeat, I have cited this episode to highlight that has become one of my core beliefs in life. 'This too shall pass.' Our party's unexpected setback in the 2004 Lok Sabha elections was one such occasion. I have no doubt that the darkness of defeat will give way to a new dawn of victory for our party in the net parliamentary elections, a victory that we shall convert into a greater triumph for India's unity, security democracy and development.

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