Those who walk, yet carve their own path apart. Such was the rare statesman, Chandrashekhar. He entered politics not as an amateur but as a scholar. He had wanted to earn a PhD in political science but Acharya Narendra Dev counselled him to plunge straight into the arena of politics instead. He did and strode forward. For Chandrashekhar, politics became a sacred vow of nation-building, a vow he honoured all his life. In this sense, through politics itself, he turned into a living university for the reconstruction of the country.
In the chronicle of independent India, Chandrashekhar’s place is immortalised for three reasons. One: ideology-driven, people-centred politics. Two: daring experiments in the political craft. Three: outright rejection of plea-bargaining for the Prime Minister’s chair. Whatever he thought, he did. And when the moment demanded, he spoke it too. In this lay an entire philosophy of life, of which Chandrashekhar remained lifelong sentinel and spokesman. That is why he could take political decisions that no one today can even imagine. Once, when Rajesh Pilot was caught in a rebel storm and came seeking direction, he asked Chandrashekhar, “How did you fearlessly voice dissent inside the Congress?” Chandrashekhar explained, showed him the way, and said, “You can do it too-but there is one heavy condition. Desire nothing for yourself, and the reflex to echo ‘yes’ will vanish. Courage for dissent will arrive on its own.”
He did not hand Rajesh Pilot mere theory; it was woven into his very conduct and nature. This episode reveals the man. When he first joined Congress, friends arranged a meeting with Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. She asked, “Do you consider the Congress socialist?” Chandrashekhar replied, “People think so; I do not.” She pressed, “Then why have you come?” Meeting her gaze, he countered, “Do you really want the honest answer?” “Yes,” she said. He declared, “I have come to try to make the Congress socialist.” Indira exclaimed, “And if it doesn’t happen?” Without flinching, he answered, “Then I shall strive to break it.” This exchange is true. Today it may seem beyond belief. Yet such was his courage to speak truth. He was the first to expose the hollowness of the ‘Garibi Hatao’ slogan. He never wished a clash between JP and Indira Gandhi. But when the chariot of Total Revolution rolled forward and a choice had to be made, he stood with transformative politics. He went to jail during the Emergency, while still a member of the Congress Working Committee. In those days, Indira sent a trusted emissary with tempting offers. Chandrashekhar refused to bite. He sent word back: “I accept a lifetime in prison; dictatorship I do not. We shall keep fighting for democracy.”
Chandrashekhar never became a minister. In the Janata government, he could have joined the Union cabinet — Loknayak Jayaprakash Narayan himself wished it. Prime Minister Morarji Desai offered the post. Yet when destiny challenged him, thirty-five years ago he shouldered the responsibility of Prime Minister directly. Lack of administrative experience proved no barrier. The challenge was colossal; he did not deem himself small before it. He studied it, understood it, and resolved to play with danger. Problems awaited him as though impatient for his arrival. On the very day he took the oath, curfew gripped nearly 75 places across the country. Rage and explosive agitation hung in the air. Young men were immolating themselves. The hasty, politically charged implementation of the Mandal Commission had unleashed fury; violence had erupted. On the other front, communal riots raged. The Ayodhya dispute loomed like a demon. In such an hour, Chandrashekhar lifted the standard of peace, harmony, and meaningful governance. With natural self-assurance, he took steps to restore normalcy. He made bold decisions. Their effect was nothing short of miraculous. Anyone reflecting on it today would be astonished.
It was not as if he commanded a majority in the Lok Sabha. Only a small Janata Dal splinter stood with him. Congress announced support — yet suspicion lingered from day one. When Chandrashekhar took the oath, journalists asked Congress president Rajiv Gandhi, “How long will you back him?” The question was fair; Congress had a history of broken pledges. Rajiv sensed the barb and replied, “At least one year.” Implicit was the boast that VP Singh’s 11-month government would be bettered by a month. Did he keep his word? Chandrashekhar knew he would not. He harboured no illusion that his government would last long.
Then why form the government at all? Was it merely to inscribe his name as Prime Minister? Was the decision opportunistic? The Young Turk who once stirred political tempests may have lacked experience in running a government, yet the political acumen he displayed from the PM’s chair left the country-and the world-stunned. His fame spread. Still, the deeper question remains: why did he form the government? I asked him this, years later. His memory was razor-sharp. He said, “I formed the government on the conviction that circumstances could be improved. I believed that if the people were told the truth, they would extend full cooperation. Despite difficulties, some path would emerge-even if not permanent.”
In that dire hour, duty-bound, Chandrashekhar set his priorities as Prime Minister. The decisions he took bore no shadow of “the government won’t last.” He was beyond mental tangles. His choices carried clarity. He remained untouched by Congress's pressures. He calmed the fury. He saved the country from economic bankruptcy. He came within reach of resolving the Ayodhya dispute, L. K. Advani himself acknowledged it in the Lok Sabha. These unexpected successes unnerved Congress. Seeing events unfold contrary to their script, Congress leaders hunted for pretexts to topple him. They withdrew support on a pretext almost comical: two Haryana policemen allegedly spying on Rajiv Gandhi. Chandrashekhar resigned without a moment’s hesitation. Rajiv sent emissaries; Chandrashekhar turned them away and, by his resolve, conveyed that he would not compromise for power. It stood proven: Chandrashekhar had entered politics for ideas and ideals.
The writer is a Senior Journalist; views are personal
