4 min readJan 9, 2025 08:44 AM IST
First published on: Dec 27, 2024 at 11:09 AM IST
“Tu idhar udhar ki na baat kar, yeh bata ki kafila kyun luta, humein rahjano se gila nahi, teri rahbari ka sawal hai. (Instead of talking about irrelevant issues, tell us why the caravan was looted. I have no complaint against the robbers but I question your leadership)”
Sushma Swaraj’s sharp words, quoting poet Shahab Jafri, rang through the Lok Sabha in 2011 as she launched a fierce attack on Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, accusing him of failing to control a government engulfed in corruption.
The fiery line, aimed directly at Singh’s leadership, was a challenge he could not ignore. But instead of firing back with equal force, Singh, in his trademark understated style, responded with a verse from Allama Iqbal: “Mana ki teri deed ke kaabil nahin hoon main, tu mera shauq dekh mera intezar dekh. (Agreed I am not worthy of drawing your sight. But look at my zeal, my longing).”
Singh’s calm counter, suggesting that while he may not be worthy of attention, his passion and perseverance spoke volumes, was the perfect riposte. His words, measured and composed, struck a chord, bringing the House to a hushed silence.
Two years later, the two leaders clashed once again, this time during the Motion of Thanks to the President’s Address in 2013. Singh, ever the scholar, chose a line from Mirza Ghalib to underscore his disillusionment:
“Hum ko un se wafa ki hai ummeed, jo nahin jante wafa kya hai. (I expect love from someone who does not know what love is).” Swaraj, never one to be outdone, countered with a verse from Bashir Badr, bringing her own brand of poetic defiance into the debate:
“Kuchh to majburiyan rahi hongi, yun koi bewafa nahin hota. (There must be some compulsions as no one ignores love for nothing).” Her words suggested that even betrayal had its reasons—an acknowledgment of the complexities of love and loyalty. The exchange, rich with literary depth, was more than a political spat; it was a battle of wits and words, a dance of intellects.
Even when faced with relentless questioning from the press about the corruption allegations against his government, Singh didn’t engage in a war of words. Instead, he turned to his beloved poetry once more:
“Hazaro jawabon se achchhi hai meri khamoshi, jo kayi sawalo ki aabru dhak leti hai. (My silence is better than thousands of questions, or it will expose many of the questions).” His silence, he implied, was more eloquent than any answer he could give—shielding both his integrity and the dignity of the moment. It was an emblem of his leadership style: thoughtful, restrained, and resolute.
Manmohan Singh, who passed away at the age of 92 on Thursday, was not just an economist who steered India through reforms. He was also a man of profound literary taste, a lover of poetry whose words often resonated far beyond politics. In the tumult of parliamentary debates, where the stakes were high and the words sharp, Singh’s poetic soul brought a quiet dignity to the rough-and-tumble of Indian politics, leaving behind a legacy that will be remembered for both his economic vision and his mastery of verse.
Manmohan Singh served as Prime Minister for two terms from May 22, 2004, to May 26, 2014, leading the Congress-led United Progressive Alliance (UPA) government. 
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