TUESDAY, MAY 14, 2024
With a political career spanning decades, self-proclaimed ‘secularist and secular fundamentalist’ Mani Shankar Aiyar offers profound insights into his upbringing, career trajectory, and critical moments in Indian history. Born in Lahore in British India, 82-year-old Aiyar reflects on his family’s experiences of the partition. “My mother came with her children to Shimla in 1946 and my father stayed on in Lahore, where he had gone in 1927 to escape anti-Brahmin persecution in Tamil Nadu. So, he became a refugee twice in his life - once for reasons of caste and the second time for reasons of religion. That's made me a secularist and a secular fundamentalist all my life. I don't think he should have been treated that way,” says Aiyar.
Years later, Aiyar found himself returning to the land of his birth - his tenure as the inaugural Consul General to Karachi marked a pivotal juncture in his career, challenging his preconceived notions about Indo-Pak relations. Anticipating hostility, he instead found himself embraced by the warmth of the Pakistani people. “I chose the post because it was going to be a challenging post but when I got there I found that I was pushing against an open door because of the kind of reception we received from the people of Pakistan,” he recalls.
During his diplomatic stint in Karachi, Aiyar facilitated poignant reunions between Indian refugees and their long-lost families, after years of separation. His consulate became a beacon of hope for thousands seeking to reconnect with loved ones across the border. “The demand was so great that I was able to issue a lakh visas within five months. In my three years, I issued three lakh visas, and the amazing thing is that the Indian police never complained of any one of these people having misused their visas,” recalls Aiyar.
“I came to the conclusion that India which was secular had taken the right path and Pakistan, which had thought that religion could be the basis of nationhood, had gone completely wrong,” he adds.
“I think now that unity in diversity is being defeated by the alternative principle of unity through uniformity. That is simply not going to work and our future will be the same as Pakistan's if we go down the path that Pakistan chose, which is to impose uniformity through one religion – Islam, which was the only reason they broke away from us,” he says.
In a candid reflection on the changing landscape of Indian society, Aiyar expresses deep concern over the erosion of secular values. “Until I was about 75 years old, all Indians were secular except for closet communalists. In the last 10 years, all Indians are communal except for secular closet secularists,” he remarks.
Aiyar highlights the generational divide in perceptions of secularism, sharing his daughters' perspective. "My daughters, who are now in their 40’s reaching their 50’s, say ‘you were so lucky you lived most of your life through a secular India. We, at the peak of our careers, are facing the problems of living in a non-secular India’”.
Driven by his observations and concerns, Aiyar emphasised the importance of secular fundamentalism. He stressed, “The only answer to [Islamic and Hindu fundamentalists] is secular fundamentalism. I'm as fundamentalist in my secular beliefs as you are in your religious beliefs.”
Speaking about his formative years at the Welhams Boys School and the Doon School, Aiyar recalls a time when identity markers such as State, religion, and language were of little significance among schoolmates. “It never occurred to any of us to ask any other classmate or schoolboy which state he was from, what his religion was, why he should be identified with a particular language,” he remarked. Aiyar described an ethos of secularism intertwined with a class-based society, which led him to embrace communism during his school days.
Over time, Aiyar’s views on class evolved, yet his commitment to a classless society remained steadfast. He emphasised the importance of a society liberated from religious prejudice, rejecting the notion of privileging one religious sentiment over another. “The State must have no religion," he says, drawing a parallel between the assertion of Sikh sentiments by Khalistanis and the invocation of Hindu sentiment by the BJP.
Drawing upon historical examples, Aiyar underscored the secular ethos embodied by leaders like Jawaharlal Nehru, who demonstrated the State’s independence from religion when he refused permission to the President of India to attend the inauguration of the rebuilt Somnath Temple. “Now we have the Prime Minister of India acting as the chief priest at a religious function which the four Shankaracharyas refused to attend because it was not in keeping with Hinduism. At least that has shown that Hindutva is a political philosophy whereas Hinduism is a religious way of life,” he quips.
Aiyar noted a troubling trend among his former classmates and subsequent generations. "I now find that at least three or four of them were closet communalists then," he disclosed, highlighting how some harbored communal sentiments but refrained from expressing them openly.
Aiyar expressed concern over the growing trend, particularly among individuals from the 1990s onwards, to openly proclaim Hindu identity and base their politics on it. "It has become fashionable to proclaim your Hindu and to base your politics on your Hindu," he lamented, fearing for the country's future trajectory. He recounted instances of personal and familial experiences with communalism, citing how his daughters faced discrimination and hostility due to their opposition to temple construction on the site of a demolished mosque.
He recounted a disheartening encounter where a former colleague, who once held high regard, suggested relocating to Pakistan – and to take his daughter with him. "I never believed that the Foreign Service could contain elements like this, but that is what we are reducing India to and that is what we have to fight against,” Aiyar remarks.
Aiyar reiterates that his reception in Pakistan as a diplomat was overwhelmingly warm and friendly. His cultural revelations began with a simple phone call when he first landed in Karachi, Pakistan. Recalling the pivotal moment, he described his arrival at the airport and subsequent settling into a building undergoing extensive repairs, unused since the 1965 war. It was here that Aiyar received an unexpected call from the office of the Deputy Commissioner of Sakkar.
“Intrigued by the unusual protocol breach, I took the call,” Aiyar recounted. On the other end was the liaison officer to a Hindu saint who had returned to Upper Sindh to impart religious teachings to local Hindus. This initiative had been orchestrated by LK Advani the previous month. The liaison officer, facing a dilemma, appealed to Aiyar for assistance. “Sir, only you can save me. I have a big problem on my hands,” he implored.
Aiyar’s response set the tone for his diplomatic tenure in Karachi. “My first job in Karachi was to give permission to the Muslim mureed (disciples) of a Hindu saint to meet him and take this Hindu saint's blessings,” he recalled.
Reflecting on another encounter that challenged his perceptions, Aiyar shared a poignant dinner experience with a Pakistani acquaintance, where he learned about the taciturn gentleman's three-year imprisonment during the war. Despite the historical animosity, the gentleman’s invitation to dinner at the Sindh Club underscored the warmth and hospitality extended to Aiyar and his wife, Sunnit.
The juxtaposition of these experiences left Aiyar grappling with the complexities of Indo-Pak relations. “This is an enemy country, right?” Sunnit questioned as they walked back home. A question that lingered in Aiyar's mind throughout his tenure in Pakistan and beyond, prompting him to ponder the paradox of warmth amid geopolitical tensions.
“It’s now been 40 years or 42 years since we returned from Pakistan. In these 42 years, I've been back to Pakistan 40 times at least. If it is an enemy country, then why is it that I'm given such a warm welcome there? That my wife and daughters are given such a warm welcome?” he ponders.
“Our single biggest asset in Pakistan are the people of Pakistan, because they constitute a constituency for peace which is larger than any Indian constituency for peace. If we have disagreements with the government, why do we take it out on the people? The people want us; the governments may not. And the only way of dealing with the government of Pakistan is not to have the courage to do surgical strikes on Pakistan or air attacks on a crow in Balakot, but to have the courage to sit across a table and talk to the Pakistanis. For 10 years, God bless you, for 10 years we have not had the courage to sit across a table and talk to the Pakistanis. The excuse we make is that talks and terror can't go together, whereas the fact is that it is only through talks that you can end terror because nothing suits the terrorist better than an atmosphere of tension between India and Pakistan.
Aiyar admits that even today, decades later, he often reflects back to his wife’s question. Is Pakistan an enemy country? “It was a question that haunted me through my three years in Karachi and continues to haunt me,” he quips.
Aiyar’s perspective on Rajiv Gandhi's political evolution and the Babri Masjid crisis
In his book ‘The Rajiv I Knew’, Aiyar dissects the complexities surrounding slain Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi’s unexpected ascent to the highest echelons of Indian politics, propelled by familial obligations rather than personal ambition. Contrary to popular belief, Aiyar emphasises that Rajiv was not inherently inclined towards politics; rather, he was thrust into the political arena following the untimely demise of his brother, Sanjay Gandhi.
In his narrative, Aiyar underscores the role played by figures like Arun Nehru in shaping Rajiv Gandhi’s political trajectory. Despite Rajiv's secular inclinations, his distant cousin Nehru's BJP-leaning ideology and political machinations propelled him towards contentious issues such as the Ram Janmabhoomi dispute.
The Babri Masjid episode, as narrated by Aiyar, unfolds as a meticulously planned conspiracy rather than a series of spontaneous events. Following the death of the Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh, Arun Nehru facilitated the appointment of Veer Bahadur Singh as his successor. Singh's immediate visit to Ayodhya set the stage for the unfolding crisis.
Aiyar cites Deoki Nandan Agarwal, a former High Court judge and Hindutva ideologue, to underscore the intricacies of the plan devised to exploit a technicality regarding the locks placed on the mosque in 1949. The revelation that the locks were not mandated by judicial order but rather by executive decree paved the way for their removal through executive action.
The subsequent reopening of the case by a local Sessions Judge, influenced by government pressure, further fuelled the crisis. With law enforcement officials deeming the locks unnecessary for maintaining law and order, the Sessions Judge swiftly issued a decision to remove them. This strategic manoeuvring created a pretext for a large gathering of Hindu pilgrims at the site, culminating in the Babri Masjid's forcible occupation.
Rajiv's response to the Babri Masjid crisis, characterised by a soft Hindutva approach, proved to be politically disastrous. His attempts to appease both Hindu and Muslim sentiments backfired, leading to electoral losses and tarnishing his otherwise remarkable political legacy. “Had Rajiv been asked, he'd have definitely said no. But faced with this fait accompli, he was left with no alternative but to try and find a solution. And from 1986 till 1989, the issue simmered but it did not rise to the top in 1989 because of Bofors and other subjects. And instead of campaigning on his constructive achievements, of which there were numerous in the domestic sphere including Panchayati Raj and his foreign policy initiatives - But all that got hidden with the Babri Masjid issue suddenly being converted into a national issue,” recalls Aiyar. “He (Rajiv) allowed himself to be dictated to by his colleagues who thought a soft Hindutva approach is the right one and went against his own instincts, which were secular,” he says.
“This seemingly simple act of opening the locks at a shrine had far-reaching consequences that couldn't have been foreseen at the time, not even by someone like Modi, let alone Rajiv Gandhi. It ultimately changed the secular fabric of India into a more communal one, altering the trajectory of the country’s politics,” rues Aiyar.
