Book name- THE UNDYING LIGHT: A PERSONAL HISTORY OF INDEPENDENT INDIA
Author- Gopalkrishna Gandhi
Published by- Aleph
Price- Rs 999
This is a memoir, and a very special one as it reflects on personal impressions gathered over time about situations, institutions, individuals, all of whom come together to constitute India for the author. Interspersed with stunning and evocative photographs from personal collections, the memoir billed as personal history gives us a unique lens to understand the complex history of the present. What is especially striking is Gopalkrishna Gandhi’s candour; he wonders openly about his
biases and shares his anxiety about these biases inflecting his understanding of events that unfolded and of personalities whom he encountered. The result is a deeply insightful history of personal experience and, through it, of a society in transition since 1947. At no stage does the author give in to either nostalgia or to a derisive dismissal of India’s track record, but neither does he fight shy of expressing his pain at the wounds inflicted on it by its peoples.
Reading Gandhi’s memoir, I was reminded almost immediately of another celebrated memoir, The World In Our Time, by the historian, Tapan Raychaudhuri. I was struck by the ease both accounts demonstrate in the recounting of events and spectacles, in introducing to the reader a bewildering cast of characters stuck in difficult times and negotiating monumental tragedies. Gandhi’s personal history is subtle and, yet, incisive in using personal reflections to comment on policies, party manoeuvres appointing presidents and governors, and to grapple with issues of privilege and entitlement that the author is conscious of. There is an ongoing critique of politicians and political deals held in balance by a deep affection the author feels for India and everything that constitutes it. What stands out is a set of searing self-reflections: for example, we have in the chapter dealing with the assassination of Indira Gandhi and the bloody Sikh riots that ensued, a candid confession of his inability to stop the violence and the genocide. Equally gripping is the chapter that looks at the
violence of the Babri masjid demolition and the casualties that it resulted in.
The book is largely informed by the author’s professional life. As a senior bureaucrat with an insider’s understanding of how politics works, it offers a fine-grained view of the machinations of politics, the complicity of civil servants, and the wave of popular sentiment that swept across sections of India in response to specific issues. It has the advantage of a rich visual archive of photographs and of access to responsible as well as scurrilous journalistic reportage to bring to life events and episodes that are long forgotten. We have, for instance, the story of C. Subramaniam who, in Gandhi’s words,
became an “Ayodhya casualty” when he was asked to resign somewhat peremptorily for having been critical of the prime minister in a private tea party. The conversation was picked up by a journalist working for the Goan daily, The Herald, who carried a piece that led to C.S.’s resignation. Here was a case of both irresponsible journalistic behaviour and of political overreach and lack of sagacity leading to the dismissal of a man who had the best interests of the nation and who relied on scientific input to steward Indian agriculture’s destiny. In retrospect, the event seems to have been prescient about the future of journalistic practices and the tendency towards political authoritarianism in the country.
One of the many striking insights that Gandhi shares through his memoir is his understanding and his appreciation of music and its salience for the idea of India which he abides by. It is also important to note that the idea of India that he talks about is not a lame repetition of the civilisational idea that is rhetorically bandied about, but something which is experienced on a quotidian basis through travel, food and social interactions. Consequently, there is an ongoing engagement with the evolution of India as a post-colonial nation, as an aspirant to super-power status, and as a confused nation with major fault lines that continue to wrack it. It is this quality that sets the book apart from other memoirs; the emphasis is not on nostalgia but on reconciliation and searching.
The Undying Light is also a photo essay in the best sense of the term. Supported by a rich archive of photographs, the memoir offers the reader a sensitive recall of the years gone by, of the personalities that have animated India’s complex history from 1947. It is thus a valuable addition to a personal history that is also a history of public life which is critical of both the nature of power that is part of politics as well as of the individual self that often fails to speak truth to power. It is thus a fearless search for truth and reconciliation.