The entry of the charlatan astrologer Haveli Ram into Dalmia’s life was not perchance. It came at a time when Dalmia’s political ambitions had taken firm root and had turned him into a megalomaniac who was beginning to self-destruct. He had a compelling and chronic addiction to the science that decreed that the governance of all life on earth was due to the positioning of the planets.TAKING timely advantage of Dalmia’s fatal attraction to astrology, the wily operator Haveli Ram, who claimed to be in possession of the original Arun Sanghita found his way into Dineshnandini’s home, Teen Number. Her own childhood interest in the supernatural and the occult compounded their enthusiasm in welcoming the newcomer. Slowly and steadily their dependence on Haveli Ram grew into a neurotic obsession. So much so that Dalmia put aside all his proven business acumen to buy, sell and speculate according to the whimsical and crazy advice from his new counsel. Dineshnandini meanwhile plunged into a deep study of the science herself. Erroneously she believed that it would keep her closely linked to her husband holding his ever-wavering attention in check, and provide her with the lever to control and direct him. She developed that learning into a fine art. Coupled with her own keenly developed intuition, it would later bring her the adulation and reverence of her own fan following, but also the condemnation of being an evil, tantric occultist by all those who wanted to grab any opportunity to denigrate her. Meanwhile, the process of the family partition as desired by Jaidayal and Shanti Prasad had commenced. In an unparalleled spirit of magnanimity, Dalmia ordered Shanti Prasad’s brother, who was also his employee, to draw up a partition deed in accordance with their wishes. ‘‘Barring The Times of India and Sawai Madhavpur Cement Company, let them take what they want,’’ he said. Even these two were not to remain in his possession for long due to an ill-timed speculative loss incurred on Haveli Ram’s advice! The family partition of an estate of an incomprehensible vastness was completed within an unprecedented time-span of merely seventy-two hours. The vast empire that was worth billions was divided irrevocably without Dalmia’s intervention, or, in a sense, consent. When he saw the details of the partition deed, in an aside to Dineshnandini’s brother, he said, ‘‘Arre Bhaiya! Mussoorie ke makaan to hamne lene ko nahin kaha tha (Heavens! I did not tell them to take the house in Mussoorie)’’THE astrologer fed his fantasies by telling him that he was a reincarnated yogi who had been in a spell of meditation for thousands of years, and Lord Indra, the King of the Gods, feeling threatened by his powerful tapasya, had taken it upon himself to destroy his concentration. As a result Dalmia had been doomed to the cycle of life and death as a mortal on earth. Haveli Ram said that in his previous lives, Dalmia had taken birth successively as Gautam Rishi, Satyawan, Raja Harishchandra and Raja Dashrath — all grand kings and rishis in Hindu mythology, and in each of these lifetimes, his wife had been Dineshnandini in her earlier forms. This addenda was appended on her insistence in her own desperate effort to hold on to the man whose faithfulness was always in doubt. Anyone with the slightest rational discernment would have seen through this conman, but such were the anachronisms in Dalmia’s nature that Haveli Ram had him completely fooled! Totally taken up by Haveli Ram’s predictions during those two ill-fated years, he believed that the Soviet Union would dump currency notes into India and plummet it into the worst ever economic recession faced by independent India. On his advice and in a bid to buffer the impending disaster, Dalmia began to reduce his own industrial holdings and dilute his interests. He sold his extremely lucrative drum-manufacturing factory located in Bombay for a pittance of twelve lac rupees. Sir: This is with reference to Coomi Kapoor’s review of my book Father Dearest: The Life and Times of Ramkrishna Dalmia in The Sunday Express dated March 30. I would like to clarify that nowhere in the book have I either acknowledged or stated that my mother Dineshnandini Dalmia practiced ‘tantra’. I have clearly said that she was accused of being a tantric by her denigrators (Ref. P.137). My mother is an extremely respected and eminent writer-poetess in the world of Hindi literature. She is a self-taught astrologer which is an entirely different science. — Neelima Dalmia Adhar Coomi Kapoor replies: The reference to Dineshnandini practicing ‘tantra’ is based on the author’s description of her mother carrying out mysterious rituals and remedies on the instructions of an unscrupulous mystic and seer in order to secure her husband’s release from jail. At a throwaway price he disposed of two textile mills also located in Bombay that he had bought from His Highness Jiwaji Rao, the Maharaja of Gwalior, and for which he had paid a staggering forty million ruppes. The heavy, mindless speculation he indulged in necessitated the desperate sale of a posse of military vehicles and army disposal goods that he had acquired at scrap value from the departing British rulers at the time of India’s independence. Had these been properly managed they could have become a vastly profitable business on their own! He was forced to abandon the midway construction of a colossal temple that had cost millions of rupees at the Sawai Madhavpur Cement factory premises near Jaipur. By the time Haveli Ram was through, Dalmia’s losses amounted to an astounding twenty-five million rupees in cash, incalculable losses in company stock and other assets. When things can go wrong, they do so with a vengeance. And so it was with Dalmia. Money that was lost in speculation had been taken out of the securities from the cash reserves of the Bharat Insurance Company that belonged to him. This was in blatant violation of the existent company law. Dalmia was being watched by people in high places and the opportunity thereby fell right into the laps of his patient detractors. ‘‘He’s an ugly man with an ugly face and an ugly mind and an ugly heart,’’ Nehru blurted out in a fit of rage. ‘‘Just because he owns a few newspapers, he claims to be an expert on foreign affairs.’’IN 1955 Feroze Gandhi’s clamourings in Parliament provided Nehru with the chance he had been waiting for, and with the setting up of the Vivian Bose Commission of enquiry, Dalmia was trapped in the worst Catch-22 situation possible. To put the money back into the Bharat Insurance Company, he needed a cash pool of twenty-five million rupees which he did not have, and if he did not put the money back, his actions incurred charges of criminal breach of trust, felony, cheating and fraud. Given the prevailing hostility of the government towards him and his precedent and direct confrontation with the prime minister, there was no one in sight who would come forward to bail him out of his mess, by either loaning him the money or buying any of his companies that he was forced to put up for sale. Ironically, he was compelled to run to his deserters Shanti Prasad and Jaidayal, both of whom expressed their inability to come up with the cash that he so desperately needed, though not for the same reasons. As a result Dalmia was driven to offer both his most treasured possessions, The Times of India and the Jaipur Udyog Industries to Shanti Prasad Jain, which the latter took over against the requisite payment. So ruthless was to be his amputation from The Times that during the ostentatious celebrations that were held in its hundred and fiftieth year, much after his death, the name of its first Indian owner would not merit even a fleeting mention! It was to also lead to a bitter imbroglio spearheaded by Jaidayal’s first grandson, Sanjay, between the Dalmias and the Jains three generations later! Unfortunately, even returning the amount to the company coffers as per all legal and friendly advice was not enough to absolve Dalmia of the crime. Under the cover of the findings of the commission of enquiry, the government in a cruel backlash initiated criminal proceedings against him that eventually sentenced him to two years of imprisonment, and in a run-up, led to the nationalisation of insurance companies in the country. Even though Dalmia put up an expensive and spirited fight that lasted seven long tedious years, the stars had turned against him, his change in fortune ironically precipitated by the most wily soothsayer of his choosing. His counsel, the famous British barrister, Sir Dinglefoot QC, who later became the Attorney General of the Labour Government in the United Kingdom, fought his case with appropriate flair and competence, but in effect he had been sentenced even before the trial began. In a single stroke he lost everything — his honour, his money, his reputation and his freedom. The indictment sent ripples of shock into a stunned India! He went down fighting like a gladiator — alone! — With permission from Roli BooksPART I: Jinnah’s friend, Nehru’s foe
