Opinion Manmohan Singh: A man who could agree to disagree

Arguably, the defining moment of his life as an economist occurred in 1991 when he unveiled that ‘dream budget’ in the Indian Parliament, which formed the basis for dismantling the licence-permit raj, reducing import tariffs, devaluing the rupee, and opening up to private and foreign investment. His iconic 1991 budget speech included a couplet of the renowned poet Allama Iqbal:

“Yunan-o-Misr-o-Rom sab mit gaye jahaan se;

Ab tak magar hai baaqi, naam-o-nishaan hamara.”

In other words, Greece, Egypt, and Rome have all disappeared, but the Indian civilisation endures. This poetic reference was used to highlight the enduring strength and continuity of India’s cultural and civilisational heritage, to which Singh remained embedded throughout.

I met Dr Singh on many occasions, especially after I joined the Indian Council for Research on International Economic Relations (ICRIER). The last time was in February 2021 at the launch of Montek Singh Ahluwalia’s book “Backstage: The Story Behind India’s High Growth Years”. He spoke his heart out on India’s economy, extempore, I might add, to an audience that listened with rapt attention. His erudition, scholarship, wisdom and humility were all on display at the event.

I gained insights into Singh’s personality much more closely through my association with my boss for almost nine years at ICRIER, the late Isher Ahluwalia. She always referred to him as Dr. Singh, which, rather than being a formal salutation, was to me visibly a combination of reverence and affection. And even among those who hardly knew him, he spawned such winning emotions. At the height of the Indo-Pak conflict, he felt strongly that trade and people-to-people diplomacy could coexist in some measure as a tool rather than as a byproduct of peace.

Isher, along with Singh’s PhD advisor, Ian Malcolm David Little, edited a book, “India’s Economic Reforms and Development: Essays for Manmohan Singh”, the second edition of which was released in Vigyan Bhavan in 2012. The book’s contributors include the who’s who of global economic scholarship: Jagdish Bhagwati, Meghnad Desai, Vijay Joshi, Deepak Lal, Amartya Sen, and T. N. Srinivasan. That is a formidable list of authors for a formidable economist who was able to unite people even if they intellectually differed with him or among themselves. There are no accounts of him ever being disagreeable. At the event, former RBI governors Raghuram Rajan and Duvvuri Subbarao spoke captivatingly of his contributions to India’s growth and development.

As the news of Singh’s death broke on the evening of December 26, two days after the birth centenary of Mohammad Rafi, the greatest Indian playback singer ever and perhaps for all times to come, a profound emotion took hold of me. I am not sure whether he knew Rafi sahab, but one similarity between them struck me instantly. Their consummate humility. To hundreds of millions of Rafi sahab’s fans across the world, including me, if I might add, he is as deserving of the Bharat Ratna as any artist who has walked the aisle in Rastrapathi Bhawan to be bestowed that honour. To that list and clamour, we can add another name, that of Dr Singh, recipient of the Padma Vibhushan in 1987 and now deserving of a Bharat Ratna.

Lest I am misunderstood, it is not just humility that makes Singh and Rafi Sahab deserving. Along with achieving rare and universally acknowledged landmarks in their respective fields, humility is an uncommon trait to be coveted and diffused in today’s alienated world. When people with such rare traits pass away, their loss is deeply felt, so much so that one could instantly invoke the mesmerising rendering of that immortal song by Rafi Sahab, ‘abhi na jao chhod kar, ke dil abhi bhara nahi’.

Kathuria is dean, School of Humanities and Social Sciences and professor of Economics at Shiv Nadar University