It was a state visit meant to mark 50 years of India’s independence. Instead, itproved to be an acrimonious show,badly stage-managed. Mildly put, the Queen’s visitwas a disaster. The two people who played leading roles: British foreign secretary RobinCook and his man in New Delhi, Sir David Gore-Booth.
Weeks after Britain’s lower lip quivered for Diana, the upper onestiffened for a protocol-bending re-enactment of the glory days of Pax Britannia.
It all began in October. At a briefing to announce the Queen’s visitto the subcontinent, the high commissioner waxed eloquent about Indo-British ties. Yes,there was a "lingering arrogance" among some of his countrymen—but this, hehinted, was "perhaps further compounded" by the obsequious behaviour of somefrom the other side. Next came some unsolicited advice over Kashmir—the famous"tilting at windmills" jibe. He also suggested that I.K. Gujral discuss theBritish offer to mediate in Kashmir with foreign secretary Cook, who’d accompany theQueen. Though the joke was lost on all, many registered the "lingeringarrogance" in Gore-Booth’s own behaviour.
Meanwhile, the broth Cook was boiling up made the Indians stew even beforehis arrival. The Labour Party resolution on Kashmir, which had spoken of Britain’simperial responsibility to solve the Kashmir problem, was still rankling. Echoing theQueen in Pakistan, Cook said the new British government was keen to mediate in Kashmir.Gujral, who heard about it in Cairo, lost no time in telling the Brits that Britain was a"third-rate power...." With the Queen in India, the Brits were rattled. Nextmorning, both sides rushed to deny any such statements. But Gujral didn’t let Cookoff. When they met, he politely but firmly brought Cook down a few notches.
The humorous aspects of the "storm in a toast cup"—Cook’sdescription of the hullabaloo over the Queen being denied permission to address theGovernor’s banquet in Chennai—drowned in the diplomatic flutter. In a game ofround robin, Cook blamed Indian media, British media blamed him and Indian media blamedeverybody.
Cook should have had the sensitivity to realise that in this day and age, hisparty’s talk of Britain’s "imperial responsibility" was offensive. Butwhile he can be forgiven on the grounds of ignorance, Sir David cannot. As a Britishjournalist commented: "He’s terribly pompous and seems to have the tact of arhinoceros." His counterparts from other missions were extremely baf-fled byGore-Booth’s "foot-in-the-mouth disease". No one, after former Pakistanhigh commissioner Riaz Khokhar, had ruf-fled Indian feathers so much.
The final act in the drama came long after the Queen had left. Amuch-perturbed Sir David waited at the airport. Not for a flight back home, but forGujral’s return from Edinburgh. With him was a copy of The Observer, London,which said the Indian government had sought his recall. Moments after Gujral landed, hebrushed aside all protocol as well as the Praetors lined up to greet the PM, and collaredhim on the tarmac. One arm condescendingly placed around Gujral’s shoulder, the otherwaved the daily at him. After much waving of hands by Sir David and much pulling ofLeninesque beard by Gujral, a beaming high commissioner announced that Gujral was on hisside. Exit Booth, stage right. No curtain calls.
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