Commentary/T V R Shenoy

Hawala, one year on

Where would you hide a tree?' queried G K Chesterton's famous detective Father Brown. The answer was 'in a forest,' the logic being that it was least likely to be noticed there.

I have no idea if Narasimha Rao's taste in literature runs to Chesterton. But he would be the first to accept the reasoning behind Father Brown's statement.

One year ago, on January 2, 1996, the prime minister of India summoned Vijaya Rama Rao, director of the Central Bureau of Investigation. He ordered his hand-picked nominee to chargesheet politicians across the spectrum for alleged involvement in the hawala case.

Narasimha Rao's reasoning was impeccable. First, he knew that a general election was just around the corner. Second, he knew that corruption would be a major issue. Third, he knew that there was no way for the Congress to dodge charges flung against it.

So, in a display of utter cynicism, Narasimha Rao set out to tar every major political party. If he couldn't convince the electorate of his own cleanliness, he would 'prove' that nobody else could claim any such virtue.

But neutralising, say, L K. Advani wasn't the sole aim of Rao's campaign. (Even Congressmen admit, off the record, that the charges against the BJP president were hastily trumped up.) It was also a ploy to neutralise the remaining power-brokers in his own party.

Remember, one year ago, there were no serious challengers to Rao's supremacy. Arjun Singh and N D Tewari had been eased out. Sonia Gandhi found the spectre of Bofors rising every time she tried to play a role. And the great Sitaram Kesri was no threat all -- a has-been from Bihar who shied away from Lok Sabha elections.

But even that wasn't enough to assuage Rao's insecurity. There were still a few independent souls left. Not too many, of course -- this was the Congress after all! -- but enough to be potentially troublesome. These were men like Madhavrao Scindia, to name but one.

Which is how the MP from Gwalior suddenly found himself on the receiving end of a CBI chargesheet. And then being eased out of the ministry. And then being refused a ticket altogether.

Having neutralised his enemies -- or so he thought -- Rao moved to manage his allies. This, in effect, boiled down to Jayalalitha. By early 1996 the CBI and the Enforcement Directorate had enough information on the AIADMK chief to being her to heel. This convinced the Tamil Nadu chief minister to restore the alliance she had unilaterally broken off.

Narasimha Rao was sitting on top of the world. But he had forgotten to calculate for one thing -- desperation.

For starters, Congressmen from Tamil Nadu knew how unpopular Jayalalitha had made herself. If a DMK alliance were ruled out, the party's best hope was to strike out on its own.

Rao, however, was convinced that he had staged a coup by bringing Jayalalitha to terms. But with the general election around the corner, Rao couldn't keep his flock in line with the lure of office.

The Tamil Maanila Congress was hastily formed. It is interesting to speculate what might have happened had Moopanar, Chidambaram, and the rest convinced Rao to take Karunanidhi's aid. In all probability the Congress would have retained its position as the single largest party in the Lok Sabha.

But it wasn't just the people of Tamil Nadu who were desperate. It was also the voters in the rest of India.

From the Himalayas to the Indian Ocean, the electorate decided that it had enough of the Congress. Six months ago, we saw those televised debates where everyone was bandying the word 'mandate'. The only real mandate was that it was against the Congress ( a fact ignored by the Left Front in its haste).

But Rao wasn't finished just yet. If the Congress didn't have the numbers to form a ministry, it still possessed the clout to stop the BJP, and then dictate terms to the United Front.

Yet again, Narasimha Rao had reckoned without the desperation of his partymen. Parties like the BJP and the CPI-M have the strength to endure stints on the Opposition bench, and even profit from it. The Congress, however, is held together only by office.

The party saw Rao as the chief obstacle to office. He was forced to cede his offices. But the old man hasn't given up just yet. He knows that Sitaram Kesri's leadership is unacceptable to large sections of the Congress. Which means he can have the malicious satisfaction of seeing Rajesh Pilot and Sharad Pawar entreat his aid. (Or the same Kesri who forced him to resign at pistol point.)

It is tough to imagine Narasimha Rao in the prime minister's chair again. It is just as hard to imagine him once again assume the mantle of the Congress president. But I don't have to strain my imagination one bit to know that Rao still has a part to play.

Circumstances have done what Rao couldn't do earlier -- split the Congress into little factions, each of whom wants Rao's aid. Even the United Front leaders who campaigned against him six months ago are praying for his survival.

1996 was an year that belonged to Narasimha Rao. Given a bit of luck and the lack of unity of his erstwhile foes, so could part of 1997, at least the first quarter of it.