In memoriam

Sheila Dikshit 1938-2019

THE public outpouring of grief in Delhi at Sheila Dikshit’s passing, and its wide coverage in the media for one who held no office at death, may have left some feeling bemused. But it was no surprise to the ordinary Dilliwallas, party colleagues, political rivals, her numerous friends, bureaucrats and admirers.

In a way, she touched lives beyond what either we, as friends, or her immediate family, or even the Congress party – which was also her family – ever got to know, and only now that she is gone, do we appreciate how barren so many lives are without her warmth and presence.

My association with Sheilaji goes long, long back to when she and Vinod (‘Dicky’), her wonderful husband, were a go-to couple of Lutyens’ Delhi, clued on to practically everything and everyone in the power corridors. Yet, there was none of the smugness that accompanies those who flaunt their vast political connections in today’s drawing rooms. Being the son of the revered freedom fighter, Uma Shankar Dikshit, who had been close to Jawaharlal Nehru, a member of Indira Gandhi’s Cabinet and Governor of West Bengal and Karnataka, Dicky was born into the upper elite of the heaven-born.

A joint secretary in the Government of India, in the days when joint secretaries were the real powers as those in the system even today will acknowledge, Dicky was one of the best sources you could find on the inner workings of the Indian bureaucracy. His wife Sheila was yet to test the political waters, but she knew well the labyrinths of bureaucracy which stood her well when she finally took the big plunge. Politics, as we know, is not for the faint-hearted or for the squeamish. Nor is it known to be soft on ‘bahus’ entering it, even if they come trailing a distinguished political legacy. But Sheila with her innate feel of the public pulse and an unshakeable belief in herself, slipped into that complex role with familiar ease. Even when after a stint in the Prime Minister’s Office she became Chief Minister, Delhi especially would instantly recognize her as an astute politician with a difference, as someone who had the common touch but also an unquestioned ability to govern a very complex administration. That is perhaps the most abiding image of Sheila in public memory today.

Bureaucrats were Sheila’s easy win and in the reams of data and files that surrounded the decision to create India’s first Bus Rapid Transit (BRT) was lauded by Sheila as a major innovation to reduce the impossible traffic congestion in South Delhi. Surrounded by the voices of those bureaucrats that she chose to hear and fully confident in the belief that she knew what the average woman on the street in Delhi wanted, she went right ahead unconcerned about controversy.

I remember confronting her one evening on the BRT and telling her that this would cost her the election. She stopped me in my tracks and said, ‘Why don’t you ride with me in the car and we’ll go down and you’ll see how smooth the car traffic is since that’s the only thing you are worried about.’

I smiled and told her that Sheila’s car would always sail through. Many years later, we both laughed about it. Taking herself lightly was a leitmotif. But even today when I pass by the remains of what used to be the BRT, it makes me think warmly of a lady who actually cared more for those in buses than for the set she’d been born into, in Lutyens’ Delhi. And yes, she agreed that bureaucrats could be wrong.

What made her what she was? Her warmth, her infinite wisdom and a genuine caring were but expressions of her nature that never changed despite the many vicissitudes she faced in her life. And always there was the grace and irrepressible humour and the energy. Endless energy.

The circumstances which made Sheilaji initially move into Delhi politics also provides an insight into the kind of person she was. She had already served as Member of Parliament from Kanauj, Uttar Pradesh, and been a Minister in the Rajiv Gandhi Cabinet when she received a midnight call in 1998 from Sonia Gandhi asking her to contest the East Delhi Lok Sabha seat. Although she was not familiar with the constituency, she did have a long family association with the Gandhis. So, without hesitation, she took the plunge. It was her unerring instinct to do what needed to be done that made her so successful in public life. She just got up and did it.

Certainly, it was her adept marshalling of the Delhi administration that made the transformation of Delhi from a smog-heavy, traffic-choked city into a cleaner CNG-powered greener city possible. It wasn’t easy, given the myriad obstacles in her path, but she made it seem like it was. Her legacy in a very real sense will be remembered for long.

Perhaps fittingly, therefore, her funeral marked a rare moment of political amity as leaders from all political parties, bureaucrats across ranks, and ordinary Dilliwallas turned up to mourn the passing of a remarkable life.

Dilip Cherian

 

Ram Jethmalani 1923-2019

THERE are few characters in independent India who have led such a rich, colourful and tumultuous life as the late Ram Jethmalani, the legal titan who passed away on 8 September this year. To describe him as one of the foremost criminal lawyers of post-independence India and a politician of note would do no justice to him; he was a larger than life personality and transcended all known categories. As a criminal lawyer there are few who could match his knowledge of the evidence act and razor sharp cross examination. He had that unparalleled ability to simplify complex factual issues which made the judges life much easier. He was not just a stellar criminal lawyer – he appeared in number of constitutional and civil matters and, in this age of specialization, he refused to be typecast.

He was by nature a contrarian; he took up unpopular causes decades before they became fashionable and had no qualms about representing persons who would attract public opprobrium such as the assassins of two Prime Ministers, Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi; Kashmir separatists such as Geelani and Afzal Guru; and even Jessica Lal’s killer, the odious Manu Sharma. He represented the age old principle that everyone deserves to be represented and famously said: ‘I decide according to my conscience who to defend. A lawyer who refuses to defend a person on the ground that people believe him to be guilty is himself guilty of professional misconduct.’

He was a man of great courage and principle. I recall his concern for the Sikh community in the wake of Indira Gandhi’s assassination when he personally went to the Sikh community of Mumbai to physically to protect them at the time of a possible pogrom which fortunately Bombay did not witness. He was steadfast in defending Kehar Singh and Balbir Singh, two accused in the assassination of Indira Gandhi. He did not charge them a fee and even resigned from the BJP as the public mood was so unforgiving. One aspect of his close relationship with the Sikh community which was of enduring benefit, was his role in acting as the go between in the Longowal-Rajiv Gandhi accord which brought peace to the Punjab

He was born in Shikarpur, in Sindh a town infamous for its money lenders, in modest circumstances. He appeared to be something of a wunderkind having qualified as an advocate at the tender age of twenty-one. He started practice in Karachi with a partner, A.K. Brohi who, like him, would also become the law minister of his country, Pakistan. He moved to Bombay after Partition and first came into the limelight when he intervened on the prosecution side in the famous Nanavati case which marked the end of the jury trial in Bombay. His practice developed rapidly as few could equal his mastery of trial work, cross-examination and the pointed eloquence of his submissions. He was extraordinarily hard working, putting in 16 hours a day.

Yet, despite his humongous appetite for work, he had a wicked sense of humour, was very much a ladies man, and can be described as a party animal. There is a famous remark by one leading constitutional lawyer when Ram attempted to grope his rather matronly wife. He said humorously that ‘as far as Ram and women are concerned, Article 14 applies.’ Ram was twice married and in fact had two wives at the same time which he could legally as these were solemnized before the 1955 Act. Not that marriage ever discouraged him from numerous dalliances with the female sex – he was open about it. He could never be accused of being a killjoy or a hypocrite.

As this is an obituary and not a hagiography, it is noteworthy to point out that Ram, like all mortals, got it wrong sometimes, could be selfish and could go egregiously out of his way to protect his clients. As a leading member of the bar and as a law minister he did little to change the status quo of the judicial system of which he was major beneficiary. On several occasions he scuppered attempts to reform the Supreme Court procedures. As law minister, when the Civil Procedure Code was amended, much could have been done in the form of root and branch reform, but apart for a little tinkering, not much was achieved. A great opportunity had been missed.

His role as the lawyer for Hinduja brothers in the Bofors investigations certainly muddied the waters. Ram, as a brilliant distraction, accused the Bachchan brothers of involvement in the deal, taking the limelight off his fellow Shikarpuri clients. One suspects that his role in this regard was indubitably malign as it is impossible to understand Bofors without understanding the role of the Hindujas and that is good reason why after three decades there is no closure.

Perhaps his most serious and egregious error was a political one and it is one he lived to regret – his support and sponsorship of the present prime minister at the BJP Goa conclave where L.K. Advani was dumped for Narendra Modi as leader of the party. As Cicero put it, ‘no good deed goes unpunished’ and when Ram, in his usual manner, complained about the direction the government was going, he was shunned.

However, these are only blips in the rich tapestry of a life well lived. Nothing can take away from his luminous personality, dazzling sense of humour and ineffable charm. He had a profound and abiding sense of justice and for those who were fortunate to know him he will live on in their memories. He was the patron of many acts of kindness to poor litigants, young lawyers, communities like the Sikhs in the ’80s and the Kashmiris who were demonized for political expediency and, if he erred, he had the courage to admit it, a rare quality that should be prized these days.

Javed Gaya