
An autobiography and a memoir are often thought to be, to use a quaint expression, one and the same, but are not. An autobiography is a mere record of accomplishments, artless in style and overburdened with minutiae; a memoir is about intimate, personal experience, rich in colour, devoid of deeds and fame.
P.C. Alexander8217;s Through the Corridors of Power could have been a memoir had he resisted falling prey to the 8216;I8217; syndrome which makes Indian writers of this particular genre so utterly tedious. He belongs to that exclusive club whose members have never erred in their lives, are excellent fault-finders and have nothing good to say about those who have not done them a good turn.
Of course, it would be grossly unfair to even remotely suggest that he compromised on principles or set aside ethics at any point during his rather long innings in public life. Unlike many bureaucrats who have displayed remarkable ability to crawl before those sitting on Delhi8217;s masnad, Alexander has remained steadfast to the virtuous belief that strait is the gate and narrow is the way. Pity though that his unblemished service to the first family of the Congress could not ensure tenure at Rashtrapati Bhavan.
As Indira Gandhi8217;s principal secretary, he had the twin responsibilities of looking after the functioning of the PMO as well as trouble-shooting in the political arena. By his own admission, he also tried to serve as Mrs Gandhi8217;s conscience keeper. That Alexander often failed in this endeavour does not come as a surprise.
Cynics will dismiss Alexander8217;s assertion that nobody in Delhi8217;s Durbar knew about the plot to sack N.T. Rama Rao and replace him with an unknown entity called Bhaskar Rao. But that is his version of the truth, and only the initiated will doubt it.
The 8220;anti-foreigners8221; agitation in Assam was one the two serious challenges 8212; the other was terrorism in Punjab 8212; Mrs Gandhi faced in the last years of her reign. Instead of striking at the root of the problem, she chose to ride roughshod over popular disquiet by forcing the infamous 1983 elections in Assam, which Alexander helped to conduct with great gusto.
He valiantly defends Mrs Gandhi8217;s misadventure in Punjab. Everybody, including President Zail Singh, was plotting and scheming, but not Mrs Gandhi. The unkindest cut, of course, comes in the form of Alexander pinning the blame for the disastrous 8216;Operation Bluestar8217; on General Vaidya whom he has accused of planning and executing the offensive on the basis of inaccurate and poor intelligence. Later in the book, a similar charge is levelled against General Sundarji for IPKF8217;s dismal failure in Sri Lanka. Since dead men tell no tales, it would be in order to record that the first stop of all primary intelligence, emanating from IB and RAW, is the principal secretary8217;s desk.
| Alexander8217;s book could have provided an intimate, tantalising view of the political landscape of Indira8216;s India. But it is about life at the base camp |
Although public memory is short, it would also be in order to point out that the timing of Operation Bluestar was not decided by Vaidya, as Alexander records on more than one page, but by the fact that Mrs Gandhi wanted to pre-empt the declaration of the 8216;Republic of Khalistan8217; by Bhindranwale on the martyrdom day of Guru Arjan Dev.
Truth comes in shades of grey. Alexander asserts that what he has to say in his autobiography is the truth. We should respect that assertion, as much as he should respect the reader8217;s right to decide the shade of grey that colours his truth.
Through the Corridors of Power could have provided an intimate, tantalising view from the mountaintop of the political landscape of Indira8217;s India. Instead, it is all about life at the base camp.