Politicking Pranab

It says something for the traditions, institutions and protocols of our parliamentary democracy that Pranab Mukherjee’s first visit to Kolkata after being sworn in as President of India turned out to be such an amicable affair.

If it was somewhat low-keyed, that reflects the reticent personality of a man whose poor electoral record was partly due to his lack of rabble-rousing flair.
That is something his hostess in West Bengal has in abundant measure. And that is also why there were initial fears that her dislike for him might surface in some way, especially with disagreements with the Centre over foreign retailers, diesel prices and West Bengal’s demand for a moratorium on debt payment. Nothing of the kind happened. Instead, like an astute professional, Mamata Banerjee turned the encounter into a warm family occasion, saying endearingly that the President was her familiar Pranabda (the suffix for elder brother) “with whom she had always been informal”, adding, “I can’t quite understand this protocol” as the red carpet was unrolled.
But beyond the badinage and the obligatory ceremony, at least two sound reasons redound to Mr Mukherjee’s credit, one of particular interest to Bengalis. Neither fructified. But both testified to the concerns of a man whose reputation as a consummate politician rules out everything in the popular mind save politicking. The first concern — the injustice done to East Bengal refugees — was significant because Mr Mukherjee is not himself a displaced person. His second achievement was to anticipate the importance of foreign direct investment long before FDI became a catchword and try to tap non-resident Indians long before NRIs became prodigal sons.
He was in the Bangla Congress when he compiled the most comprehensive analysis ever attempted of the differences between Punjab and Bengal refugees. Numbers were compared, relevant political events described, direct and indirect official help listed, and the Centre’s partisan approach exposed. Explaining the disastrous effects of the 1950 Nehru-Liaquat Ali Pact, Mr Mukherjee admitted that eastern India didn’t have abandoned Muslim property that East Bengal refugees could take over as West Punjabis had done in Delhi and its environs. But he also underlined the much higher per capita spending in the west and the various heads under which money was disbursed so that it didn’t look like refugee relief.
Ostensibly separate Central projects like the carefully planned and generously endowed Faridabad industrial township or Chandigarh city also provided displaced Punjabis with homes and employment. There was nothing of the kind in West Bengal. Sadly, I have lost my clipping of Mr Mukherjee’s letter to the editor that the Statesman published down a full single column of its editorial page. Even more sadly, it was not followed up and acted upon.
As expatriate Indian investment, readers may recall the outrage in 1983 when London-based Lord (Swraj) Paul invested `13 crores in two Indian companies, Escorts and DCM. Five months earlier, Manmohan Singh, then Reserve Bank governor, had declared India needed “a substantial inflow of resources from abroad both to supplement domestic savings and to finance the deficit in our balance of payments”. In identifying “a positive role for investments by non-resident Indians” the future Prime Minister was reiterating the message of Mr Mukherjee’s first Budget in February 1982.
Describing remittances as a “manifestation of the close cultural and family ties” between Indians at home and abroad, Mr Mukherjee allowed NRIs to “purchase shares of companies quoted on the stock exchanges subject to specific limits”. The limit was 40 per cent of equity but NRIs enjoyed full repatriation rights. Other incentives included parity with residents in certain matters and exemption from gift, wealth and income tax in others.
Lord Paul’s response to this invitation aroused fierce hostility. J.R.D. Tata warned of the “danger of ‘black’ money going out of the country, laundered abroad, and brought back as ‘white’ money”. A hysterical media said it was a ruse either to encourage foreign predators or enable Indira Gandhi to repatriate her allegedly ill-gotten wealth or both. Even Dr Singh repudiated his own earlier enthusiasm to argue “it is necessary to protect well-managed companies against takeover bids from abroad”.
Yet, Mr Mukherjee’s initiative, taken up by P.V. Narasimha Rao and Dr Singh nine years later as part of the liberalisation programme, led to last year’s record $58 billion remittances. It also revealed the rot at the heart of India’s crony capitalism in which, as Lord Paul claimed, Indian industrialists “actually owned very small
portions of their companies”.
Mr Mukherjee is now the symbol of India and it is reassuring to find we still revere symbols exuding power. The shameful posthumous treatment of Narasimha Rao was the Delhi power elite’s studied insult to a man who had thwarted its ambitions. The Left Front government’s equally shameful indifference to Siddhartha Shankar Ray’s demise demonstrated the crucial importance of power and patronage. Of course, they will tear Mr Mukherjee apart when he ceases to be President. Already, one hears whispers in Delhi of economic mismanagement during his last stint as finance minister. Before the demolition squads get down to serious work, India should record its debt on the two counts cited here.
Despite saying self-deprecatingly that he has “become an antique in the theatre of economic activities”, Mr Mukherjee must derive satisfaction from the knowledge that he set that ball rolling. Secondly, Bengalis should appreciate the lie he gave to the canard that while the lusty Punjabi triumphed over adversity, the supine Bengali went under, whining for government help. Ms Banerjee may have spoken tongue in cheek when she said, “To me, it’s Pranabda’s homecoming, a day we will remember forever.” But she also echoed the feelings of many others.

The writer is a senior journalist, columnist and author