GREAT DIVIDE IN THE MIND
The worst part of this book is Gurcharan Das’s blurb: “If only Patel had lived longer, India would have been spared the excesses of the Licence Raj and the Kashmir problem.” This is to trivialise the massive scholarship Hindol Sengupta has brought to bear on his monumental biography of Sardar Patel and reduce the theme of this book to the wholly false binary of ‘Patel vs Nehru’.
Notwithstanding the fact that, quite unlike Nehru, the Sardar wrote no books, Sengupta has mined Patel’s numerous letters and speeches to give us a virtually self-written portrait of this great stalwart of the freedom movement, supplemented by a detailed study of different sources, to present a Patelian perspective on the “complex relationship” between the distinguished members of the vanguard who frequently had ideological and policy differences among themselves, as well documented by Sengupta: Sardar Patel himself; Nehru, of course; Rajaji; Azad; Rajendra Prasad; Subhas Chandra Bose and numerous others. This menagerie of leaders of genius was controlled with astounding deftness by the one who stood head and shoulders above them, individually and collectively, and to whom each of them deferred much of the time, however much they disagreed with him on specifics—Mahatma Gandhi.
I doubt that the annals of history anywhere in the world or at any time have thrown up such a democratic Team of Rivals who were permitted, even encouraged, to not only disagree with each other but also frequently with the Mahatma himself, and yet were yoked together by their quest for freedom.
However, as Sengupta notes, it was Gandhi, none other, who announced as early as 1942, in the midst of a blazing row between Gandhi and Nehru on how far to accommodate the Cripps Mission, that his successor would be Nehru. Why would Gandhi do this?
After all, Patel, in years, was like a brother to Gandhi; Nehru, in years, more like a son. But, as Sengupta explains, Patel was a very ill man; Nehru, in contrast, was extremely fit. Did Gandhi think the burden of leading independent India in its formative stages should devolve on the shoulders of one who had two decades of nation-building ahead of him rather than a colleague, however valued, who would outlast the Mahatma by less than a thousand days? Or were there other more profound reasons?
Given the assiduity with which Sengupta has researched his subject, his conclusion is bizarre. He assigns the basic reason to Gandhi’s belief that Nehru should be elevated over Patel because Nehru spoke better English and his upbringing would fit him better to negotiate with the British! This is ridiculous because it portrays the Father of Our Nation as an idiot.
The fact is that Patel became Gandhi’s companion-in-arms long before Nehru emerged as a distant speck on the political horizon. They linked together in 1917 to run the Kheda satyagraha in the immediate wake of Gandhi’s outstanding success at Champaran (while a virtually briefless Nehru was still indolently smoking cigarettes at the Allahabad bar association). Gandhi’s intimacy with Patel thus long preceded his association with Nehru. He did not need to be told of Patel’s merits and claim to the Congress presidency and, later, the premiership of free India. Surely then, the Mahatma would have carefully weighed his choice before making it. Yet, Sengupta flounders in explaining why Gandhi should have so often overlooked Patel.
Gandhi was entirely cognizant of Patel’s organisational talents: he knew the Congress was held together and funded by the iron hand of the Sardar. He knew too that nine of the 11 Congress provincial units sought to see Patel succeed Maulana Azad in 1946, thus paving the way for his eventual assuming of the leadership of the government. What one would have hoped for in such a comprehensive study is an examination of the grounds on which Gandhi overruled the overwhelming preference of the party.
Sengupta suggests (apparently not tongue-in-cheek) that Gandhi feared Nehru revolting against being made No. 2 whereas he was assured of Patel remaining faithful whatever his decision. Given the numerous occasions on which Nehru acquiesced to Gandhi’s diktat against his own best judgement, this is not history, it’s petty bias.
Gandhi chose Nehru because, while the party desired Patel, the country
preferred Nehru. This perception was, of course, never tested empirically but Patel and Nehru would have testified that Gandhi had an uncanny sense of what the people wanted, which is what made him the final arbiter in the many quarrels he had with Patel and Nehru (and they with each other). At the same time, Gandhi understood that it was not a question of choosing one over the other, but harnessing their separate talents to take the nation forward. Patel would be best for domestic issues, such as integrating the princely states into the Union (which he did with unmatched ability) while Nehru was better fitted with the vision to guide and inspire the new nation.
For Gandhi, nothing was more important to nation-building than maintaining Hindu-Muslim unity in the face of Partition. Indeed, he wanted Partition to be ideologically nullified by building an India in which the minorities would be reassured they had made the right choice in rejecting the two-nation theory by not moving to Pakistan.
Neither Patel nor Nehru was wanting in such staunch secularism. But it was obvious by the time of Independence that India’s Muslims trusted Nehru the most. That determined Gandhi’s decision.
There was no Great Divide. Nehru and Patel had the highest respect for each other as Nehru found out when the Congress Parliamentary Party was overwhelmingly at odds with him over the Nehru-Liaquat Pact in April 1950. He strode to his office to write out his letter of resignation. His obvious and only possible successor would have been Patel. But, in the Sardar’s finest moment, as recounted by Rajmohan Gandhi, he snatched the resignation letter and ordered Nehru to continue as PM. Why do Sengupta, Das and the Hindu right-wing wish to thwart Patel himself?