IN recent days NCP general secretary Purno Agitok Sangma has been put under the scanner by the media, his every move analysed by political analysts, his reputation for scheming growing by the day. It’s been such a long journey from the time when Sangma, as Lok Sabha speaker between 1991-97, was the cute darling of the national media. He was Solomon himself, the man who presided over the House during a Congress government, during United Front rule — and almost got the job again when the BJP came to power in 1998. Behind the disarming demeanour lies a shrewd political mind — one that still packs an election-time punch. The man who first raised the issue of Sonia Gandhi’s foreign origin — and caused the Congress split in 1999 — has not exhausted his cards yet. From old comrades P.V. Narasimha Rao to N.D. Tiwari, he has named alternatives to Sonia from within the Congress. Yet Sangma, 56, is not all pipedreams and nostalgia. He will announce his next move on January 19, when he has called a meeting of the Northeast People’s Forum (NEPF), a Sangma-inspired forum that is headed by Nagaland’ Chief Minister Neiphiu Rio. Rio is a BJP ally and some feel the NEPF itself is Sangma’s attempt to consolidate the Northeast’s MPs behind him — and help him bargain with the NDA. It will help the region; even more, it will help Sangma. This may also mean, of course, that Sangma, a Garo tribal from Tura in western Meghayala, will have to part company with Sharad Pawar, his co-founder of the NCP who needs the Congress in Maharashtra. Pawar has, in the sort of happy coincidence that makes Indian politics so endearing, just announced that Sonia’s foreign origins mean nothing a all. For Sangma, winning from Tura is not at all difficult, whatever his political affiliation. He was synonymous with the Congress for over two decades. But the ‘‘clock’ symbol got him 63 per cent of the vote in 1999, reducing the official Congress nominee to a humble 23 per cent. It was Tura where it all began. Sangma entered politics in 1977 as the Congress candidate from this constituency. It was then a Congress borough. Seven victories later, it is now Sangma’s backyard. Life wasn’t always so smooth. Sangma was forced to quit school at 12, his father had died and there was no money at home. Antonio Buccieri, an Italian missionary, took Sangma under his wing. With Buccieri’s support, Sangma enrolled in night college, working in the day to help pay his fees. ‘‘My marriage to Suradini was the second turning point in my life,’’ Sangma was to later recall, ‘‘the Garo tribal society is matriarchal. And so when I contested for the Lok Sabha for the first time in 1977, my father-in-law threw open his cupboards to meet my expenses.’’ That was all the boost Sangma needed. He had been a lecturer, a lawyer, a journalist—but in politics he found his true calling. Sangma was a state Youth Congress office-bearer as early as 1974. While Delhi became a second home after 1977, Meghalaya and its politics were never forgotten. In 1988, Sangma was to return as chief minister. The 1990s really made Sangma a front-page story. He had been Union minister but rarely received the sort of publicity his stint as speaker ensured him. As Lok Sabha confidence debates began to become television dramas, Sangma found himself in a stellar role. Just over four years ago, the man whose mentor was an Italian made his loudest political statement — when he walked out of a party that promised India an Italian-born prime minister. Now as another election approaches, Sangma is singing the song again. The BJP is content with the back-up instrumentals.
