All our sons and daughters

The air is thick with talk of dynasty. Indians, it is said, like to be ruled by families. Indians vote unquestioningly for bahus, betis and betas. But do they? For every family which has managed to manipulate a political party, there are others who have failed to or chosen not to. Dynasty is not as integral to our politics as Congress would like to believe.

In fact dynasties triumph only if succeeding generations are talented. India’s most flamboyant ruling clan, the six Great Mughals from Babur to Aurangzeb, were emperors not simply by birth but by individual greatness. “It was their achievement,” writes Bamber Gascoigne, “father to son, for six generations (that) bears comparison with families in world history.” What are Rahul and Priyanka’s achievements?

Nehru wept at the sight of the “semi-naked sons and daughters of India”. He “pounded tirelessly around India covering 50,000 miles in 130 days and only 1600 by air.” The killings at Jalianwala Bagh produced an emotional turmoil that was to stay with him through his life.

What about Rahul and Priyanka’s political vision? The Indian public doesn’t know whether the Gujarat riots affected Priyanka. We don’t know whether the murder of Satyendra Dubey affected Rahul. The Indian public is not allowed to ask if they have ever been moved to tears or rage or if they love India the way their great-grandfather did. All they seem to feel is a weary responsibility to just lead this horrible place. And we have to lap it up, because, hey, we all love dynasty.

The pathetic Congress, wallowing in introspection, has failed to realise how ridiculous it is to push the family principle in an aspirant society restless for change and democracy. All over the country state Congress units are passing resolutions asking them to join politics. MPs are offering their seats, the Youth Congress has asked them to take over the leadership and some have even promised that they will undertake a fast unto death.

Yet dynasties have never been a natural ruling principle in India. Mahatma Gandhi actively discouraged his family from entering politics. A family that should have been India’s first political family is now quietly pursuing non-political careers all over the world. Youngest son Devadas became a newspaper editor, grandsons Ramachandra and Rajmohan are academics, grand-daughter Tara Bhattacharyya is an activist for khadi, great-granddaughter Leela teaches at university in Australia, great-grandson Pradeep is a marketing executive in a telecom company in the US, great-grandson Shanti Kumar is a cardiac surgeon in Kansas. Indeed, when Rajmohan Gandhi contested elections against Rajiv Gandhi in Amethi in 1989, there could not have been a greater contrast. Rajiv roared around in a jeep with his impatient gang of Doon School buddies. Rajmohan walked alone with a jhola, going from door to door and speaking directly to the villagers. Rajiv almost believed he had the birthright to rule, but an equally worthy scion — Rajmohan — believed that he did not.

This is because Gandhiji didn’t give a damn about dynasty and sternly pushed his sons off centrestage. “I have many sons,” he said. “Some of them bear the name Gandhi and some bear other names… count how many crores of sons and therefore daughters-in-law such a man is like to have.” In fact Gandhi’s “long smouldering conflict” with eldest son Harilal, as Arun Gandhi writes in his biography of Kasturba, sprang from the fact that time and time again Mohandas refused to let Harilal gain any kind of professional success in case it was linked to his father’s stature. Harilal, later the bruised alcoholic, “became a victim of a father who did not want to be accused of nepotism”. Harilal once remarked to Kasturba: “He just does not care for us, any of us.”

Sardar Patel wasn’t over-anxious about his descendants either. Maniben Patel became a Gandhian activist but was never given a chance to aspire to public office. Son Dahyabhai Patel sat in Parliament for six years, but Sardar Patel wrote in a letter about his son, “I take no interest in Dahyabhai’s personal and business interests… all that I am interested in is to ensure that no consideration is extended to him because he happens to be my son.”

Rajendra Prasad’s son Mritunjaya Prasad was also an MP but again the former president even interrupted his son’s education, pulling him out of Benares Hindu University, because of his own political activities.

Lal Bahadur Shastri’s sons have been able to pursue only marginal political careers. One is in the BJP, the other is a Congress spokesperson, and neither is an MP. Little is known of Maulana Azad’s descendants beyond grand-niece Najma Heptullah and Govind Ballabh Pant’s son K.C. Pant left the Congress to become an ornamental figure in the BJP.

Many of the founding fathers were pretty bad dads, often neglecting their children in pursuit of larger ideals. Even Nehru, when asked if Indira would succeed him, shouted, “How can I rule from my grave?” Had Shastri lived longer, Indira’s ascent might have been more complicated.

Even regional parties which have been reckless in transforming political parties into family property are finding it difficult to maintain their stranglehold. Sure this election campaign will be strewn with hopeful sons and daughters, but glance at the Abdullahs in Jammu and Kashmir or the Badals in Punjab and you’ll find that the dynastic principle is in jeopardy. Of course, as long as party politics remains a closed shop, sons and daughters will have a huge preliminary advantage. But in an agitated new India, the voter is anxious for choices other than those manipulated by party bosses and Rahul and Priyanka need to offer more than pampered smiles.