“The dreams of others
Make no sense
Unless like Freud
You turn them into pounds, shillings and pence.”
From The Cynicnama by Bachchoo

Prime Minister Manmohan Singh has declared that he would be quite content to work under Rahul Gandhi as Prime Minister. In democracies, this hierarchical game of musical chairs is not unknown though in most cases former PMs don’t accept jobs under those who once worked for them.
In the present British government, two former leaders of the Tory Party, Iain Duncan Smith and William Hague — both of whom failed to win an election — are members of British Prime Minister David Cameron’s Cabinet. In the United States, John Kerry, a defeated presidential candidate has replaced Hillary Clinton, a defeated rival for presidential nominee of the Democratic Party, as secretary of state.
In the UK and the US, these appointments are indications that these Tories and Democrats have a significant following in their respective parties and in their countries. Dr Singh’s following has not been put to the electoral test. Indian democracy does not work that way. He has been appointed Prime Minister, it is said, because of his proven talents as an economist, and his gesture to Mr Gandhi is merely an offer to put these talents at the latter’s disposal.
Mr Gandhi has not been publicly nominated as the Congress Party’s prime ministerial candidate. Some game, which I won’t pretend to understand or explain to my politically curious friends in England, is being played on the Indian political stage. The opposing candidacy of Gujarat chief minister Narendra Modi, whose reputation goes before him, is partly responsible for stimulating this curiosity.
A Bangladeshi friend told me that in his circle the word is “forget about Syria and Egypt and begin worrying about Modi!” which indicates that in parts of the enquiring world, the possibilities of a Modi regime in India are being discussed. It’s not the same with Mr Rahul Gandhi. He is associated with a surname rather than a political ideology or tendency. I don’t wish to do him an injustice. I am sure he has instituted reform and regeneration in the spheres allocated to him by the powers in the Congress Party.
But the name is magic in India. The surname Gandhi originally meant perfume seller — and is close to the word “sugandh”. It evolved from Sanskrit when tradesmen expanded their spheres to mean grocer or pharmacist. The caste name was Hindu, but the trade name spread to the Parsis who had found refuge in the eighth and ninth century in Gujarat, as a surname — hence Rahul’s grandfather Feroze “Gandhi”.
In immature democracies, names matter. Nobody in England would vote for someone simply because they were called Churchill and no one in France would vote for a person because they were descended from Bonaparte or De Gaulle.
This dynastic force in Indian democracy remains a puzzle. Are there no talents in the Congress Party that override the genes of the Nehru family? Suppose Indira had turned Western feminist and called herself “Nehru” would the same loyalties to the dynasty obtain? Would the population, two generations on, confronted with the name “Rahul Nehru” think “Yesss! Our next PM, rule us, rule us!” or would they think “Rahul who??” or even “Rahul so-what?”
If I had a vote or a concern I would denounce Indira’s “feminist” reversion to her maiden name, insist that Rahul had inherited his grandfather’s Parsi genes and name and I would think about supporting India’s second Parsi Prime Minister.
That’s all speculation. I mention it because this particular name factor has, for three generations, been operative in a vibrant democracy and has, in some international quarters, caused some petty confusion.
Allow me to tell you a story in illustration:
Several years ago, employed as a UK TV bureaucrat, I took a production team to Delhi to interview the newly installed Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi.
Our team stayed in one of Delhi’s posh hotels and were on our off day relaxing by the swimming pool. My producer, a well-known writer and activist had invited his Trotskyist friends to share a drink with him. I was entertaining Suresh Jindal who had recently been associate producer on Richard Attenborough’s film Gandhi.
At this encounter by the pool the Trotskyist friends expressed some misgivings about the Oscar-winning film.
One of them indignantly asked Suresh “Why was this film made?”
Suresh’s answer was unhesitating “It was made to prove that Indira Gandhi was not Mahatma Gandhi’s daughter.”
This fob-off told the Trotskyists that he was not willing to debate the matter further.
The interview done, I returned to London and to Channel 4’s offices. I was told on getting there that there was a reception for our new chief executive on the terrace and our chairman Richard “Dickie” Attenborough wanted all commissioning editors up there.
Dickie greeted me with characteristic overflowing enthusiasm. “Dear boy, I hear you’ve just returned from India. Whom did you meet?”
I told him and the gathering around him about our trip and said that Suresh sent his salaams.
“What a wonderful man, such a wonderful man,” Dickie said.
I hesitated for a moment but then decided to tell him and the company Suresh’s little dismissive joke.
Attenborough listened intently. I delivered Suresh’s punch line and waited to see how Dickie would take this depiction of the motive for making the film that had certainly become the crowning glory of his career.
Dickie thought it over for a couple of seconds.
“Quite right! Precisely! That was why the film was made — to prove that Indira Gandhi was not Mahatma Gandhi’s daughter.”
But then he continued.
“But you know, some people still didn’t get it. I was invited to America, to Washington, to a very prominent house there where we showed the film. When it was done my host, not a stranger to the film industry himself, was full of compliments. ‘What a great film Mr Attenborough,’ he said. ‘And what a great job his daughter is doing in New Delhi!’”