‘No, thanks.’
‘There’s also the fact that he was the Speaker of the U.P. Legislative Assembly during those years. Rules, rules, and very little flexibility. I always thought it was us bureaucrats who were the sticklers for rules. Well, the country’s burning and the politicians are fiddling, not very tunefully at that. It is up to us to keep things going. The iron frame and all that: rusting and buckling, though, I’d have to say. Well, I’m almost at the end of my career, and I can’t say I’m sorry. I hope you enjoy your new job, Lahiri – Mines, isn’t it? Do let me know how you’re getting along.’
‘Thank you, Sir,’ said Sandeep Lahiri, and got up with a serious expression on his face. He was beginning to understand all too well how things worked. Was this his own future self he had been talking to? He could not hide from himself his dismay and, yes, it would not be too much to say, his disgust, at this new and most unwelcome insight.
14.8
‘SHARMAJI came here to meet you this morning,’ said Mrs Mahesh Kapoor to her husband when he returned to Prem Nivas.
‘He came himself?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he say anything?’
‘What would he say to me?’ asked Mrs Mahesh Kapoor.
Her husband clicked his tongue in irritation. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and see him.’ It was more than civil of the Chief Minister to have come in person to his house, and Mahesh Kapoor had a shrewd idea of what he wanted to discuss. The crisis in the Congress was the talk of the country now, not just of the party. Nehru’s resignation from all his party offices had made certain of that.
Mahesh Kapoor called ahead, then visited Sharma at home. Though he had left the Congress, he continued to wear the white cap that had become a natural part of his attire. Sharma was sitting on a white cane chair in the garden, and stood up to greet him as he approached. He should have looked tired, but he did not. It was a warm day, and he had been fanning himself with a newspaper, the headlines of which spoke of the latest moves to conciliate Nehru. He offered his erstwhile colleague a chair and some tea.
‘I needn’t go around in circles, Kapoor Sahib,’ said the Chief Minister. ‘I want your help in trying to persuade Nehru to return to the Congress.’
‘But he has never left it,’ said Mahesh Kapoor with a smile, seeing that the Chief Minister was already thinking two steps ahead.
‘I meant, to full participation in the Congress.’
‘I sympathize, Sharmaji; these must be troubling times for the Congress Party. But what can I do? I am no longer a member of the party myself. Nor are many of my friends and colleagues.’
‘The Congress is your true home,’ said Sharma, a little sadly, his head beginning to shake. ‘You have given everything for it, you have sacrificed the best years of your life for it. Even now you are sitting in the same position in the Legislative Assembly as before. If that wedge is now labelled the KMPP or something else, I still look upon it with affection. I still consider you my colleagues. There are more idealists there than in those who have remained with me.’
Sharma did not need to state that by this he was referring to the likes of Agarwal. Mahesh Kapoor stirred his tea. He felt great sympathy for the man whose Cabinet he had so recently resigned from. But he hoped that Nehru would leave the Congress and join the party that he himself had joined, and he could not see how Sharma could have imagined that he, of all people, would be keen to dissuade him from doing so. He leaned forward a little and said quietly: ‘Sharmaji, I sacrificed those years for my country more than for any party. If the Congress has betrayed its ideals, and forced so many of its old supporters to leave –’ He stopped. ‘Anyway, I see no immediate danger of Panditji leaving the party.’
‘Don’t you?’ said Sharma.
A couple of letters lay in front of him, and he now handed one of them, the longer one, to Mahesh Kapoor and tapped his finger on a couple of paragraphs at the end. Mahesh Kapoor read slowly, not looking up till he had finished. It was one of Nehru’s regular fortnightly letters to his Chief Ministers and was dated August 1 – two days after his friend Kidwai, having withdrawn his resignation, had resigned again. The last part of the long letter, which ranged over the entire gamut of foreign and domestic developments, went as follows:
24. There has been frequent reference in the press recently to resignations from the Central Cabinet. I confess I have been greatly troubled over this matter, for the two persons concerned have been valuable colleagues who have fully justified their membership of Government. There was no question of a difference of opinion in regard to governmental policy. Difficulties arose about other matters relating to the National Congress. I do not propose to say anything about this subject here because you will probably soon see some statements in the press which will explain the present position. That position only indirectly affects the Government. Essentially it is a question of the future of the Congress. This is not only of interest to Congressmen but to everybody in India, because the role of the Congress has been great.