by Harish Gupta, National Editor, Lokmat Group
The framers of the Indian Constitution were careful not to give the building—its occupant, rather—too much power in any event. They expected the Lower House of the parliament to elect its leader. After the parliament did its job of finding the right person, all that the President was supposed to do was to swear him in. In other words, his purported role was that of a master of ceremonies.
Rashtrapati Bhavan on Raisina Hill sprang to political life in 1989. In the general election that year, the Indian National Congress under Rajiv Gandhi hugely lost popularity in the wake of graft charges. Still it managed to win 197 seats with 39.53 per cent votes, all by itself. It also finished at the top of the league, with the largest number of seats. Convention demanded that the President, R. Venkataraman at that time, would invite Rajiv to form the government and prove his parliamentary majority within a reasonable period. But Rajiv himself had foreclosed the option as he'd driven to Rashtrapati Bhavan on 29 November 1989 and handed in his resignation. Venkataraman thereafter was free to invite V. P. Singh, leader of the Janata Dal, Rajiv's principal challenger and his former Defence Minister, though he had won just 143 seats. Singh's qualification was apparently solid as he had by then become the crystallizing core of a national anti-Congress coalition supported by the BJP on its right and communists from the left. However, in view of the glaring ideological mismatch among Singh's supporters, it was Venkataraman's moral duty to give the Congress a chance, which he didn't.
Way back in 1982, though, Venkataram had been pushed sideways by Prime Minister Indira Gandhi from the ministry of finance to defence, because of alleged pressure of her corporate allies to bring Pranab Mukherjee at the head of the Finance Ministry. It is an irony of fate that Mukherjee is the present occupant of the magnificent building Venkataraman had once occupied. Unlike the rule-bound Venkataraman, Mukherjee is known as a die-hard practitioner of realpolitik, with a lot of political "blood" still left in him. Most people think that his recent public statement that he didn't cast his vote in the current election, apparently as proof of his neutrality, is but a subtle way of reassuring electoral contestants that he'd act in accordance with the Constitution.
But what exactly are President Mukherjee's options from May 16 onwards, till a government is formed? He will certainly play his cards right if BJP and its NDA allies come anywhere around, say, 272, thus leaving the anti-Narendra Modi 'secular' lobby in a helpless limbo. The office of the President can play few games if a single group holds half the seats or more. But it can be electrified into action if the leading pre-poll alliance falls short of the majority even by a slender margin. The President then has a right to apply his judgment (or his prejudices), invite anyone he pleases, and leave the field open for an army of fence-sitters to weigh the bargains and shuffle sides. On the other hand, it can keep the deserving party stand outside the door as long as possible. It happened in 2004 when UPA chairperson Sonia Gandhi, with 218 seats, a number way ahead of the BJP-led NDA's 181, was made by President Kalam to run from pillar to collect written promises of support from minor parties. Kalam is surely India's respected "missile man", but, in the season of government formation, getting such letters is an expensive proposition; understanding it is no rocket science.
At the closing of an entirely Modi-centric election, if NDA's tally dips to eve 240 or less, there may be a swift display of unity of the stop-Modi lobby. The President's office may then be flooded with request to nominate someone else, and if he is game, the number of signatories may exceed NDA's tally. So extensive is the fear in the political class of a highly individualistic Modi (this has recently been noted, among others, by Walter Anderson, author of The Brotherhood of Saffron, a seminal work on the Sangh parivar's rise) that any opportunity to keep him out will immediately unite even sworn enemies. The President, steeped in the Congress tradition, can then repay his debt to the party by giving Modi-baiters a chance, since such a precedent was set by Kalam himself. Such a scenario is very unlikely, though, due to the following reasons.
All eyes on Pranab
Article by Harish Gupta
Even school
children know from their civics text books that the role of the Rashtrapati,
the President, in the political life of India is symbolic. As a matter of
fact, it is almost in inverse proportion to the stateliness of the majestic
building earmarked for his residence. The building is mostly of tourist &
cultural interest, except on a few rare days on the eve of formation of a new government.
The framers of the Indian Constitution were careful not to give the building—its occupant, rather—too much power in any event. They expected the Lower House of the parliament to elect its leader. After the parliament did its job of finding the right person, all that the President was supposed to do was to swear him in. In other words, his purported role was that of a master of ceremonies.
Rashtrapati Bhavan on Raisina Hill sprang to political life in 1989. In the general election that year, the Indian National Congress under Rajiv Gandhi hugely lost popularity in the wake of graft charges. Still it managed to win 197 seats with 39.53 per cent votes, all by itself. It also finished at the top of the league, with the largest number of seats. Convention demanded that the President, R. Venkataraman at that time, would invite Rajiv to form the government and prove his parliamentary majority within a reasonable period. But Rajiv himself had foreclosed the option as he'd driven to Rashtrapati Bhavan on 29 November 1989 and handed in his resignation. Venkataraman thereafter was free to invite V. P. Singh, leader of the Janata Dal, Rajiv's principal challenger and his former Defence Minister, though he had won just 143 seats. Singh's qualification was apparently solid as he had by then become the crystallizing core of a national anti-Congress coalition supported by the BJP on its right and communists from the left. However, in view of the glaring ideological mismatch among Singh's supporters, it was Venkataraman's moral duty to give the Congress a chance, which he didn't.
Way back in 1982, though, Venkataram had been pushed sideways by Prime Minister Indira Gandhi from the ministry of finance to defence, because of alleged pressure of her corporate allies to bring Pranab Mukherjee at the head of the Finance Ministry. It is an irony of fate that Mukherjee is the present occupant of the magnificent building Venkataraman had once occupied. Unlike the rule-bound Venkataraman, Mukherjee is known as a die-hard practitioner of realpolitik, with a lot of political "blood" still left in him. Most people think that his recent public statement that he didn't cast his vote in the current election, apparently as proof of his neutrality, is but a subtle way of reassuring electoral contestants that he'd act in accordance with the Constitution.
But what exactly are President Mukherjee's options from May 16 onwards, till a government is formed? He will certainly play his cards right if BJP and its NDA allies come anywhere around, say, 272, thus leaving the anti-Narendra Modi 'secular' lobby in a helpless limbo. The office of the President can play few games if a single group holds half the seats or more. But it can be electrified into action if the leading pre-poll alliance falls short of the majority even by a slender margin. The President then has a right to apply his judgment (or his prejudices), invite anyone he pleases, and leave the field open for an army of fence-sitters to weigh the bargains and shuffle sides. On the other hand, it can keep the deserving party stand outside the door as long as possible. It happened in 2004 when UPA chairperson Sonia Gandhi, with 218 seats, a number way ahead of the BJP-led NDA's 181, was made by President Kalam to run from pillar to collect written promises of support from minor parties. Kalam is surely India's respected "missile man", but, in the season of government formation, getting such letters is an expensive proposition; understanding it is no rocket science.
At the closing of an entirely Modi-centric election, if NDA's tally dips to eve 240 or less, there may be a swift display of unity of the stop-Modi lobby. The President's office may then be flooded with request to nominate someone else, and if he is game, the number of signatories may exceed NDA's tally. So extensive is the fear in the political class of a highly individualistic Modi (this has recently been noted, among others, by Walter Anderson, author of The Brotherhood of Saffron, a seminal work on the Sangh parivar's rise) that any opportunity to keep him out will immediately unite even sworn enemies. The President, steeped in the Congress tradition, can then repay his debt to the party by giving Modi-baiters a chance, since such a precedent was set by Kalam himself. Such a scenario is very unlikely, though, due to the following reasons.
First, the
two-month-long campaign is marked by an exceptional trait in Modi's character,
which is his ability to connect with the common people. It was last seen in
Indira Gandhi, whose simple slogan of 1971, garibi hatao, mobilized
ordinary voters on an unprecedented scale in pre-television, and of course
pre-internet, India. She single-handedly fought and trounced the “syndicate”
within her own party and Jana Sangh, Lok Dal, Swatantra Party and SSP on the
other. She had none with her except the CPI. So intense was her access to the
heart of India
that her assassination in 1984 was condemned by a gigantic majority, with
Congress alone bagging half the total votes polled.
It now appears that Modi acquired
this rare ability to connect with the masses. It will take three more days to
see if it is true. But the feedback from absolutely non-BJP states, like Tamil
Nadu and West Bengal, is bringing the tiding
of a national pro-Modi whirlwind.
Kalam made
Sonia sweat in 2004.
Modi must cross
250
If Modi misses the bus, he
himself said in a lighter vein, “What will I do if I don’t succeed ! I will
sell tea.” Surely, he signaled he will not go back to Gujrat and has always
gone up the ladder.
Maybe we’ve read the symbolism of
President Mukherjee’s clean finger wrongly. Maybe the politician in his DNA has
sensed the sign of the times, which is another “massive mandate” 43 years after
the first one.
(The author is
National
Editor of
Lokmat group)
