May 3, 1999

Sonia's and India's moment of truth

By Swapan Dasgupta

Nearly every family in India has a story to tell. About the husband who went into deep depression at the prospect of an "Italian" prime minister. About the aged Congress-voting grandfather who asked angrily, "Is this why we threw out the British?" About the women in the milk queue who showered profanities and curses. And about the son in the US who said he was ashamed to be an Indian.

For millions of Indians at home and abroad, it was not the nail-biting finish to the vote of confidence that was the moment of realisation. They have, after all, become accustomed to prime ministers treating Race Course Road like a transit camp. One more didn't make a difference. That sinking feeling came with the rude realisation that the country could actually end up with a prime minister who didn't measure up to the conventional standards of belonging. By the time the imperiously confident Sonia Gandhi stood in front of Rashtrapati Bhavan to announce that it was going to be a minority Congress government backed by 272 MPs, it was no longer a joke. The time for all those spaghetti allusions and the Rome Rajya jibes was over. It was the defining moment.

Call it whatever you like, the demise of Atal Bihari Vajpayee's 13-month government was a coup. A coup presided over by a determined Sonia and facilitated by a Jayalalitha out to destroy the rule of law, a Laloo who mocks the notion of good governance and an H.S. Surjeet who has added a new dimension to creative Marxism. Some even believe it was aided by an unduly proactive Rashtrapati Bhavan. It would have been a coup de grace if Vajpayee had been worsted by 11 votes and the BJP-led alliance disintegrated, as was initially expected. But with the "migratory birds" promised by Arjun Singh refusing to fly and L.K. Advani's compelling argument about a Lakshman rekha of 270 MPs the other side had to cross, Sonia's one-vote victory became a coup d'etat. For months to come, till the last vote in the next general election is counted, there will be a spirited debate on who was the more perfidious -- the hapless Giridhar Gamang, the treacherous Saifuddin Soz or the duplicitous Mayawati. And for years to come, President K.R. Narayanan's conduct will be a favourite subject of constitutional pundits and conspiracy theorists.

In a sense, these will be side issues. As the 12th Lok Sabha lives out its last moments, what will preoccupy India is the legitimacy of Sonia. Nationality is a small part of the debate. Few are likely to go off the handle like Samajwadi Party's Amar Singh and warn against Mussolini's portrait hanging next to the Mahatma's. Far more important is the implication of Sonia on India's self-esteem. Can a nation of 800 million with so many chiefs not throw up a single Indian? Why was she in such a tearing hurry? For three weeks the papers seeking sanction for M.S. Solanki's prosecution in the Bofors case has been before the President. Was it, as a Congressman speculated, based on greed or need? Why was a 114-year-old Congress party reduced to a complete supplicant? When asked to bend, why did Jyoti Basu and Surjeet crawl before Sonia?

These are questions that have no ready answers. But in addressing them, Sonia has thrown the country into an emotional turmoil. For a long time Indians were disgusted by their politicians. Now they are disgusted with themselves. "The fault dear Brutus is not in our stars but in ourselves that we are underlings."

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