by KHURSHID MEHMUD KASURI
A friend and colleague from across the border reflects on Mani Shankar Aiyar’s personality, career and methods.
I received a copy of Mani Shankar Aiyar’s latest book Memoirs of a Maverick with the following inscription: “To Khurshid, in remembrance of six decades of friendship.” Our friendship actually goes back six decades plus two years. In fact in 2011, which was 50th anniversary of Class of 1961 (Trinity Hall, Cambridge), we were both honoured by our college to speak at the ‘Class Reunion’ on the Pak-India peace process.
Mani’s memoir covers the first 50 years of his life, but I have no doubt that he will eventually write about the next three decades of his very eventful life too, which includes the time when we were both cabinet ministers in our respective countries and worked together to improve relations between Pakistan and India.
My first impression on meeting him was that the volume of his voice was quite disproportionate to the size of his body. Only later did I realise that the resonance in his voice was also a reflection of the clarity of his thoughts and strength of his conscience.
He writes in his book under ‘Cambridge at First Sight’, “A gong sounded and we filed into ‘hall’ together (Cambridge jargon for ‘dinner’). As I worked my way through a tasteless piece of unspiced meat and boiled vegetables, little did I know that my first meal in Cambridge was in the distinguished company of the man who was to become the best foreign minister Pakistan has ever had!” This remark could get me into trouble with some extremist elements here.
Mani and I have been friends ever since, and I thought there was an unstated ‘competition’ between us as to who would make it to becoming foreign minister first. It so happened that when I was foreign minister of Pakistan, Mani was India’s petroleum minister. I have always had a feeling that he should have made it to the foreign ministership of his country given his insight, deep understanding of international relations and the fact that he travelled from the foreign service to electoral politics (not a common phenomenon). With his empathy and deep understanding of Pakistan-India relations, in my opinion he would have been India’s finest foreign minister. Mani, however, is far too bright and outspoken for his own good.
He further writes, “A bond was created when I said I was born in Lahore, Khurshid’s hometown. Many, many years later – fifty at least – Khurshid was to confide in me that the reason he had walked up to greet me was that he had never before met a Hindu! He had picked, I told him sourly, a rather poor example.” I need to clarify this statement. My father was a top lawyer and politician and had many Hindu clients and political colleagues. What I meant to say or should have said was that he was the first Hindu of my own age that I had come across and with whom I can interact.
Mani’s frankness, honesty and courage, of which I have been a witness all my life, comes across very early in his memoirs: “My parents’ wedding was both unusual and a disaster. It was unusual because it was held in the bridegroom’s house, not the bride’s, for my poor mother had neither home nor family to ‘give her away’. It was a disaster, because they had hardly entered the nuptial chamber when my father announced that he had really wanted to marry my mother’s sister. It was a blow from which the marriage never recovered.”
Mani has courted controversy throughout his life. This seems to have got him into trouble even before he joined the foreign service as questions were raised about his alleged membership of the Communist Party in Britain. To this ‘allegation’ he responded to none other than President Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan that he was not and could not have been a member, since he was not a British citizen. He traces the ups and downs of this episode, his hopes being alternatively raised and then dashed to the ground. His mother’s connections seem to have stood him in good stead and Mani concludes the entire episode by saying, “Nehru entirely endorsed this, adding he too had heard good reports of me. Thus, under Prime Minister Nehru’s personal signature, I crossed my personal Rubicon on 24 October 1963. It had been worth the trauma I had undergone to become the first IFS officer – since the initial formation of the IFS back in 1946-47 to be admitted to the service under Jawaharlal Nehru’s own hands.” (Mani was lucky that Nehru himself was a Fabian socialist). One of his friends commented that “they found you to be a Marxist – but of a Groucho variety”. Mani further says, “India under Nehru was truly a democracy. Alas! Democracy is disappearing even when I write these words.”
I have been struck by the pace of efforts in India to delegitimise Nehru. In Pakistan, democracy has always been a fragile plant and our leadership too has committed huge blunders since independence for which we are currently paying the price – but there is still hope here, since fortunately, no one, not even the religious parties, has dared to question Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s legacy as the father of Pakistan’s independence. He is universally referred to as ‘Quaid-e-Azam’ and his personality is a beacon of hope for all Pakistanis who believe in an inclusive Pakistan.
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