Transition in India

Abstract

Diwali, Hindu Festival of Light, was recently celebrated throughout land. There was a lighthearted air as millions of Indians in town and country gave thanks for Lord Rama's safe return from his prolonged exile. This year traditional sea of candles and lights was not evident everywhere; indeed all official buildings (and many shops and homes) in Delhi stood out in their sombre darkness, a mute testimony to the Emergency that still prevails officially two years debacle of October 1962. And yet, Indians have short memories like men everywhere so that returning visitor is oblivious of state of emergency'* which is so mild as to be unnoticeable. It is tempting in balmy days of November in Delhi to think that all will be well and that India will somehow muddle through; this delusion is often found in societies beset by a sea of troubles. But all is not well with India. One begins to conjure up analogy of Ottoman Turkey a hundred years ago and to raise spectre of the sick man of Asia. This image is certainly premature, but there are many sources of disquiet in early months Nehru's death. Some bold steps cannot long be delayed. The transition to post-Nehru era is likely to be long remembered as summer of discontent; and there were good reasons for despair one encountered in all walks of life. The summer began on a note of high optimism a mature and tranquil transfer of power which illuminated basic stability of India's political system, as well as shallowness of tedious speculation about after Nehru, who? The Congress high command, backed (many would say controlled) by a coalition of party bosses in South, the Syndicate, as it is (almost affectionately) called here, closed ranks in critical days of May 29June 2, and carried through succession to Nehru with skill and poise; as one of leading contestants remarked, we were terribly conscious that eyes of world were upon us and that to engage in an unseemly tangle would have marred image of India abroad. Thus, they invoked a doctrine of Consensus, and eased Lai Bahadur Shastri on to centre of stage. Almost at once came descent into malaise. The diminutive, humble but astute Lai Bahadur, awe-struck by fact of succeeding Panditji, plunged into work with what can only be described as disorganised ferocity. The result was a heart attack within three weeks of his assuming office, his third seizure in five years. For more than a week Establishment and purveyors of opinion held their breath, wondering whether India would have to re-enact drama of succession once more. As in Nehru's day, when Prime Minister was indisposed, decision process virtually ceased. And while Shastri slowly recovered, burdens mounted.