One Life is Not Enough

by K. Natwar Singh

Badshah Khan treated Indira Gandhi like a daughter and the fact that she was the Prime Minister of India made no impression on him at all. Badshah Khan was a law unto himself. He was invited to deliver the Jawaharlal Nehru Memorial lecture on 14 November 1969 on the lawns of Teen Murti House. He spoke for one hour, but did not once take Jawaharlal Nehru’s name. It was a deliberate omission—he had not forgiven Nehru for agreeing to Partition.

November was a month of unprecedented political jockeying and unseemly name-calling by the Syndicate. On 1 November, while the Prime Minister was in a meeting with President Antonin Novotný of Czechoslovakia at Rashtrapati Bhavan, one of her secretaries, Yashpal Kapoor, took her the news that Nijalingappa had expelled her from the Congress for indiscipline. When I conveyed this to her, she told me not to bother about it. Outwardly she was calm, but I could imagine her inner turmoil. She, a granddaughter of Motilal Nehru, and the daughter of Jawaharlal Nehru, was being expelled from the party. This led to a split in the Congress, and Indira Gandhi formed a new party, the Congress (R). Kamaraj became the head of the parent Congress Party, the Congress (O).

This is the record of the Geneva meeting. Please send it to your Prime Minister. She knows you well. Ask her to save my people.’ I was speechless. This was an extraordinary event. Here was the Ambassador of Pakistan handing over a top-secret document to the Ambassador of India. One only reads about such occurrences in spy stories.

The Ambassador met me late at night at my residence. I could see how distraught he was. Without wasting any time, he said, ‘Here is the cipher code which Pakistani Ambassadors use.’ I was flabbergasted. For an Ambassador, the cipher code is of the highest importance, as it is the key for conveying top secret information to the Ministry. Only two people in an Embassy are privy to this code: the Head of Mission and the Cipher Assistant. I personally took the Pakistani cipher code to Delhi and handed it over to the RAW Chief, Rameshwar Nath Kao. An accomplished intelligence agent, few had heard of Kao; fewer still knew his face.

I said to Sattar, ‘I have, like you, been long in the diplomatic arena. I know what to say to our friends across the border. Tell me what I should not say.’ His candid answer was one which I have not forgotten to this day: ‘Never say that we are the same people. We are not. If we were, then why did we part company in 1947?’

In order to create an identity, people need an idea of nationhood which transcends religion. Pakistanis to this day have not been able to answer that profound question: who are we?

One evening, a banner headline was broadcast in a cinema hall stating that a member of the Indian Embassy had been killed in a motor accident. Two or three families from our Embassy were present in the hall. They rushed out as soon as they saw this horrifying news item but found that there was no truth to it and every member of our staff was safe.

‘I give full marks to the Indian authorities for spotting an intrusion which was only four nautical miles in Indian territory and lasted two-and-a-half minutes.

As a well-wisher, I asked her to recount the true circumstances under which her husband had been hanged. According to Mrs Bhutto, her husband had been killed several hours before he was hanged. The Jail Superintendent had informed them that the hanging would take place at 4.30 a.m. and had allowed the family one hour between 8 and 9 p.m. the previous night for one final meeting. Then, the time of his hanging was changed to 2 a.m. A senior General of the Pakistani Army, accompanied by one or two other officers, had come to Bhutto’s cell an hour before his hanging and asked him to sign a document which would exonerate the Pakistani Army for their actions in East Pakistan. Bhutto caught the General by the collar. A scuffle followed during which Bhutto fell and cracked his skull. The Pakistani Army, according to Mrs Bhutto, hanged a man who was already dead.

I gradually became familiar with the production and politics of steel. I visited all the steel plants in India, getting to know an aspect of the country about which I had no previous knowledge. It did not take long for me to learn that the production of steel depended on the politics of steel. Each plant had several powerful trade unions—the CPI ran one group, the Congress another, the CPI (M) yet another. Discipline was abysmal; punctuality was a casualty. The steel mafia was more than a nuisance. One exception was the Tata Plant at Jamshedpur. There, Russi Mody allowed no trade union activity. That made all the difference.

When I asked the Prime Minister what was being discussed, his answer only added to my apprehensions. Jayewardene had told him that he feared that unless India immediately sent troops to Sri Lanka to contain the deteriorating law and order situation, a coup could take place that very night. I told the PM to take a decision on so grave a matter only after consulting his senior Cabinet colleagues on his return to Delhi. To my utter surprise, he said that he had already given orders for the immediate dispatch of Indian troops by air to Colombo. P.V. was very disturbed when I informed him of the Prime Minister’s decision but, as usual, he was unwilling to confront the PM. The reality on the ground was that India was being sucked into the Sri Lankan ethnic conflict at a scorching pace.

30 July 1987 was a dark day. As Rajiv Gandhi commenced inspecting the Guard of Honour, Vijitha Rohana Wijemuni, a sailor, struck Rajiv Gandhi with the butt of his rifle. While the PM’s reflexes saved him from serious injury, he still received a nasty blow.

Jyoti Basu, on a previous visit, had asked his Chinese hosts why they did not recognize Sikkim as part of India. They had told him that this was a mere formality which could easily be corrected. Rajiv found Basu’s inputs very useful.

Chinese diplomacy is subtle, surefooted; conceptual thinking goes hand-in-hand with strategy and tactics. It is nuanced and not hurried. The Chinese do not believe in quick fixes. Chinese diplomacy takes a long view of international affairs. Its traditions are centuries old. Chinese diplomats are ‘slow burns’. China let the British hold on to Hong Kong till 1997. They could have walked in anytime after 1949.

In 1986, the Babri Masjid-Ram Janmabhoomi issue surfaced. After simmering for a number of years, the crisis came to a boil after the locks placed on the sites were taken away, and worship begun, allegedly at the behest of Arun Nehru, one of the Ministers of State closest to Rajiv Gandhi.

On 24 March 1986, a 285-million-dollar contract was signed between the government and the Swedish armaments company, Bofors, for the supply of 410 155-mm Howitzer guns. About a year later, on 16 April 1987, Swedish radio alleged that Bofors had paid kickbacks to a number of Indian politicians and key defence officials for this deal. The opposition parties went for the kill and targeted Rajiv Gandhi for his alleged involvement in bribe-taking. I felt then, and still do, that the Prime Minister could have handled the matter in a more nuanced manner. All that Gandhi had to do was to appoint a committee of senior officials under the chairmanship of the Cabinet Secretary to deal with the Bofors issue. Inevitably, this would not have satisfied the Opposition, but could have saved him from venomous attacks on his integrity. He could have exercised nuanced restraint. This he did not do. Instead, he plunged into the Bofors mud. Some of it stuck.

Between 1984 and 1989, he made over two dozen reshuffles in his Council of Ministers. The only minister who completed five years in his Cabinet was Railway Minister Madhavrao Scindia.

The Prime Minister asked me and N.D. Tiwari, the External Affairs Minister, to call the US and Soviet Ambassadors and request them for detailed information on Pakistan troop movements, based on their satellite surveillance. The US and Soviet envoys soon reported that there was nothing to suggest that the Pakistan Army had assumed offensive positions on the border.

From 1986 onwards, Rajiv Gandhi’s relations with President Giani Zail Singh deteriorated by the week. A stage was reached when public accusations were made by one against the other. The President’s grievance was that the PM did not see him every week (as was the custom), nor did he care to brief him on important matters facing the country. Battle lines were drawn. Zail Singh said he would dismiss Rajiv who, in turn, threatened to impeach the President. The crisis only ended when Zail Singh’s five-year term ended in 1987.

‘You have stepped into the shoes of your father. The Gandhis have a tradition and legacy of serving India. They could not abandon their heritage.’

After my operation, K.R. Narayanan, a ‘bypasser’ himself, called. He said, ‘Welcome to the club, Natwar.’ I replied, with due apologies to Karl Marx, ‘Bypassers of the world unite, you have nothing to lose but your blockages.’

On the night of 24-25 February 1956, he addressed a secret meeting at the twentieth Congress of the Communist Party. His criticism of Joseph Stalin shook the communist world from Peking to Prague. The speech gradually leaked out. He said, ‘It is clear that here, Stalin showed in a whole series of cases, his intolerance, his brutality and his abuse of power.’ The first nail in the coffin of Communism had been hammered. China was an exception. Publicly, Mao Tse Tung supported Nikita Khrushchev but in private he condemned him and his unbridled denunciation of Stalin. In 1964, Khrushchev was the victim of a coup led by L.I. Brezhnev, who assumed the mantle of the General Secretary of the Party. The rot had set in. The US was bleeding the USSR in insidious and clandestine ways. The USSR in those years was spending 25 per cent of its budget on the military—navy, air force and the nuclear programme.

Thirty years ago, the communist world extended from Peking to Prague. Vietnam and Cuba were also communist states. Between 1917 and 1989, millions around the world became Marxists. The Soviet Union was looked upon as a champion fighting against class injustice and economic disparities. In other words, Marxists were destined to change the world.

It was during my stay in China that the Hungarian Revolution occurred in the autumn of 1956. The Soviet Union considered this a serious challenge. The revolution was crushed by the military might of the Soviet Union. Hundreds of thousands of communists resigned from parties in various parts of the world as a protest against the Soviet atrocities in Hungary.

her. She told me that she was under great pressure from various quarters, including the Americans, to not appoint me as External Affairs Minister. Would I consider taking another ministry? With some heat, I turned down her suggestion.

On 8 November 2005, a fortnight after the report was made public, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh told me that it had been decided by the Congress President and himself that I should give up the External Affairs portfolio and be a minister without portfolio. I resigned on 6 December. Manmohan Singh is a decent though spineless man, who never stands up for his colleagues. He asked me to meet Sonia. I refused. Where honour was involved, no compromise was possible.

Sonia replied to a question about the Volcker controversy saying that I had ‘misused the name of the party and I felt extremely betrayed. [...] He was a colleague in whom I had placed trust and I felt very terribly betrayed.’** My wife and I, when watching both interviews on TV, were amazed. While I was still a minister without portfolio, the President hosted a dinner for the Czech President, in which I was seated next to Sonia. She did not say a word to me throughout the dinner. Strangely, she did not say a word to the chief guest, who was sitting on the other side, either!

Sonia’s public image is not flattering. To an extent, she has herself to blame for it. She never lets her guard down, never gives away what is in her mind. Obsessively secretive and suspicious, she evokes awe, not admiration.

In his autobiography, Alexander holds me responsible for denying him the presidential chair. He also takes several swipes at Brajesh. He writes, ‘At this stage a totally unforeseen development took place, which contained all the ingredients of a palace plot—the sudden projection of Vice President Krishan Kant as a candidate for the presidential election. The principal characters behind this new move were Natwar Singh and, most unexpectedly, Brajesh Mishra, Principal Secretary to the Prime Minister.’* It did not behove a man of Alexander’s experience and stature to make such a preposterous observation. It was no secret that Chandrababu Naidu was supporting Krishan Kant. Krishan Kant had been Governor of Andhra Pradesh and was on intimate terms with Naidu. Alexander further stated in his book that Brajesh and I colluded to keep him out without the knowledge of our political leaders. Throughout his narrative, he relentlessly hammered out on this theme—‘Natwar and Brajesh’ were hell-bent on eliminating him from the race. But we were only following instructions.

Before A.P.J. Abdul Kalam took his oath as President, Pramod Mahajan, Minister for Parliamentary Affairs, called on him. He requested Dr Kalam to get one or two closed-collar suits and modify his hairstyle. Dr Kalam agreed to the coats, but the hairstyle was non-negotiable.

In the evening, I met Manmohan Singh. He had fought hard for me to get the MEA and, till the last moment, the American lobby had allegedly tried to derail my appointment. Manmohan was apprehensive and mentioned how powerful the Americans were and that perhaps they could go to any extent to destabilize certain countries, including India.

In the modern world, economic policy takes precedence over foreign policy.

But the expansion of the Security Council would be a complicated matter as no single country could become a permanent member.

In the last decade, when the Prime Minister was in power, he visited dozens of countries but no meaningful follow-up happened. Similarly, a large number of foreign leaders visited India, but nothing substantial happened insofar as our bilateral relations were concerned.

I had a very restless day. I sent a telegram to the PM telling him that I would explain my position as soon as I reached Delhi. Before I left, I was shown the statement of the Congress General Secretary, Ambika Soni, in which she said—clearly referring to me—that ‘as far as individuals were concerned, they were competent to defend themselves’.* I was outraged. I had spent my whole life in the foreign service and in politics and I knew that such a statement could not have been issued without the approval of the Congress President. My relations with the Gandhi-Nehru family had begun in July 1944; at least I should have been given the benefit of doubt by the party chief.

A discussion on the report was held by the Subcommittee on Oversight and Investigations of the US House of Representatives on 9 February 2005. The list of 270 beneficiaries at the time did not include my name. At the meeting, as is documented,* a Dr Nimrod Raphaeli of MEMRI presented the list. But in a list presented at a meeting on 9 March, my name was inserted. All the countries named, other than India, rejected the report.

Within a day or two, a tsunami hit me. Aniel Mathrani, a junior functionary of the Congress and the Indian Ambassador to Croatia, gave an interview to India Today saying that the Congress Party and I had asked for vouchers for oil barrels to be allocated to me during a visit to Iraq in 2001. Mathrani had worked under me in the Foreign Affairs department of the All India Congress Committee. In his interview, he said, ‘Of course, he [Natwar Singh] knew all these things from the beginning but preferred to keep quiet. […] That Natwar and the Congress never knew is hogwash.’

However, there were people all over the country who wrote and spoke in my favour—former Prime Minister Chandra Shekhar was among them. At a press conference, Leader of Opposition L.K. Advani asked whether I was being made a scapegoat because the Congress wanted to put a lid on its own involvement.*

I got to know that on 28 January 2004, three years after my Iraq visit, the Indian Ambassador to Baghdad had written a letter to the Foreign Secretary, Shyam Saran, saying that he had seen two articles, one on the website of the Pakistan daily, Jung, and the other in the Iraqi Arab daily, Al-Naida, which had mentioned that Saddam Hussein had given away oil to foreign individuals and institutions in return for political favours. In the list of recipients, the Congress Party and Bhim Singh’s names had been mentioned. Both were alleged to have received one million barrels each sometime after June 1997. This letter was seen by the secretary in the Ministry of External Affairs and the NDA Foreign Minister Yashwant Sinha, but no action had been taken on it.

The government constituted the Justice R.S. Pathak Inquiry Committee under the Commission of Inquiry Act to look into the allegations on 11 November 2005. However, after looking at the way in which it was constituted, it became apparent that the proceedings were likely to be one-sided. I give below some of the clauses:

I had submitted my affidavit to the committee in a sealed envelope on 24 March 2006. Yet portions from it were quoted in newspapers in early April. I wrote to Justice Pathak about the leak, but did not receive any reply.

On 31 May 2006, I was asked to present myself before the Pathak Inquiry Committee. Apart from Justice Pathak, there were senior legal consultants present to assist him, each one handpicked by the concerned ministries. Within five minutes it became clear that the committee was extremely biased. They had been instructed to absolve the Congress of all charges. Justice Pathak formally handed his report to the PM on 7 August 2006. In his conclusions, he totally exonerated the Congress Party. About me, he said, ‘There is no material to show that Natwar Singh derived any financial or other personal benefit from the contracts.’ Regardless of this, my son and I were chargesheeted by the ED of the Finance Ministry. Justice Pathak once confided in me that he had been under extreme pressure. He also told me that he had not been able to find any evidence of financial misdeeds by me.

Why was the UPA government reluctant to reveal the content of these documents? The conclusion is obvious: there are uncomfortable truths in them that they are trying to hide. Some of the activities of the ED and other intelligence agencies were also farcical. A team was sent to Jaipur to prove that I owned a house in Beni Park. The team located a house on the gate of which was written Natwar Singh. They rang the bell. A servant came out. He was asked, ‘Where is Natwar Singh?’ ‘He has gone for a walk and should be back soon,’ the servant replied. At that moment, Natwar Singh’s son appeared. He did not resemble Jagat Singh, my son, who was an MLA from Laxmangarh and was well known. He asked the team what they were looking for and who they were. He was told that they were from Delhi and wanted to meet Natwar Singh. ‘What is his profession?’ the team asked. The son said that his father had worked in a tea estate in Assam for thirty-one years. His full name was Natwar Singh Shekhawat. He did not use his surname. I later mentioned this to Bhairon Singh Shekhawat, who was very amused. The team was subsequently sent to London, Geneva, Cyprus, Amman, Baghdad and New York. They looked for a numbered account in Geneva. It did not exist. In London, they looked in vain for a property I was supposed to own. No such property existed. Since I had known several officers in the department, they told me in the strictest confidence that I had committed no impropriety nor had I any property or...

Volcker confessed to a reporter from Los Angeles Times that his report had the potential to expose the UN and remove Annan from his post, but when it came to the moment, he said, ‘I felt uncomfortable.’* According to the report, hours before the publication of the Volcker Report, the Secretary General and his lawyer asked Volcker to ‘change the language about the business dealings of Kojo Annan’. When asked whether he knew about the UN Secretary General’s son using the connections of his father to profit by the Oil-for-Food Programme, Volcker said, ‘To this day, I still don’t know.’

Arun K. Agarwal, in Reliance: The Real Natwar says, ‘...the inclusion of the Congress in the Volcker report was deliberately exploited to create panic by the power brokers and fund collectors of the Congress party itself [...] to justify a devious conspiracy to hang Natwar Singh in the main square...’* He also says clearly that I was ‘set up’ as the ‘fall guy’.