Adie-hard Congressman to the end, Sitaram ‘Chacha' Kesri clung rather more fiercely to his anachronistic Gandhi cap than to the Gandhian ideals which he touted as his inspiration through seven eventful decades of political life. Devotion to the Nehruvian dynasty, Gandhian thought, the Congress brand of secularism: these had been articles of faith with the 81-year-old Kesri. But in the eve of his life, the dyed-in-the-wool Mandalite was beset by doubts. He found much to admire in B.R. Ambedkar and simultaneously, less to appreciate in Nehru. He was heard saying that fellow Congressman V.N. Gadgil's espousal of moderate Hinduism should not be dismissed out of hand. Most significant of all was his disenchantment with the Nehru-Gandhis, whom he had served all his life.
Kesri, Sonia's foremost loyalist, never recovered from his humiliating ouster from the Congress presidency at her behest in 1998. Some saw it as poetic justice; after all, he had conspired to supplant P.V. Narasimha Rao in just as heavy-handed a fashion. Others said that Kesri was a duly elected Congress president and thus, his forced resignation was undemocratic. The fact remained that Kesri, who had repeatedly put his Gandhi topi—and the party gaddi—at Sonia's feet, was summarily kicked out when he wasn't prepared to quit.
He became a bitter critic of Sonia in private and derived much satisfaction from pointing out that her electoral track record was far worse than his: 110 or so Lok Sabha seats to his 140. He took a dig at her by singing paeans to Mamata Banerjee, describing her as a model of "Indianness", a "Durga avatar" and the "future hope" of the Congress. Ironical, considering she had quit the party under his stewardship. Another jibe was his hailing Maneka's son Feroze Varun as the most promising of the new generation of Nehru-Gandhis and making it a point to attend the release of his book of poems. Much of his venom, however, was reserved for the wily ‘thakur' Arjun Singh, whom he saw as the most power-hungry of Congressmen.
Behind the scenes and off-the-record, he was often on the phone with his former bugbears Sharad Pawar and Rao and his erstwhile lieutenant Jitendra Prasada, urging them to take on Sonia. The trusted khazanchi (treasurer) of the Gandhis since the early days of Indira had become a closet rebel. Yet party old-timers say Indira's faith in her aicc treasurer was something of a byword: the notoriously niggardly Kesri's oral statement carried more weight with her than any khata (account book). Rajiv continued to repose the same faith in Kesri but it was Rao who upgraded him to Cabinet rank in 1991.
As a minister, he wasn't a success. Handed the welfare portfolio, he allowed the bureaucracy to have a field day, his only caveat being that a call from the secretary to the Rajiv Gandhi Foundation should be accorded top priority. Anything Sonia's minions or the rgf wanted, they should get. A stranger to the computer and out of sync with economic liberalisation, he devoted himself to schemes like the rehabilitation of scavengers and the welfare of sc/sts and the physically handicapped.
Kesri died a disgruntled man. Never having achieved his ambition of becoming prime minister, he'll best be remembered for his still-inexplicable ouster of H.D. Deve Gowda which many political analysts saw as the beginning of the end of the Third Front—and of Kesri himself. After having denied to his own partymen—in the hearing of journalists—that he'd withdraw support to Gowda, he went ahead and did just that less than 12 hours later.Personal animosity towards the PM or the prompting of a corporate house to which he was very close? The truth may well be interred with Kesri.
His tenure as Congress president had a less publicised but no less significant side: he sought to give backward politics a strong push. Son of a shopkeeper from the Kesarwani (backward) caste, he was among the first to extend support to V.P. Singh's Mandal agenda. He had a soft corner for Laloo, all the more so because the backward leader had the mass following he did not. Lacking popular appeal, he quit electoral politics after one stint in the Lok Sabha and thereafter was returned to the Rajya Sabha for five consecutive terms, until Sonia denied him a nomination.
For a man so singularly bereft of charisma, he was quite popular with the press, which delighted in his idiosyncrasies—his habit of endlessly circling the Akbar Road roundabout when he wanted to think, his fondness for pomeranians, chilli chicken and Asha Parekh and his sartorial informality. He'd greet them in his banian and didn't turn a hair when a not-so-young cwc member wandered into his house late one evening in shorts and T-shirt. He loved Hindi movies (Karisma was a favourite), and was fond of jokes, the more ribald the better.
Kesri, aware that he was at times a figure of fun, delighted in playing to the gallery—once, tongue-in-cheek, served dog biscuits instead of cookies, with tea. Described in Outlook as ‘Villain No. 1' of 1998 and depicted with horns on the cover, he took it well and never once uttered a word of reproach.
He was close to a clutch of senior journalists who formed the core of his coterie and are said to have played a crucial role in his decision to dethrone Gowda—something he was later to regret. His lifestyle was simple and his family, comprising a son and two daughters, never so much as seen in Delhi—this, despite the quantum of party funds he handled.
Despite a reputation for financial probity, Kesri wasn't immune from scandal. His proximity to a corporate house drew fire from the enforcement directorate and he was alleged to have foreign exchange deposits abroad. Even more damaging, he was embroiled in the investigation into the murder/ death of a doctor who reportedly regularly ministered to him. He maintained that both cases were politically motivated.
Kesri passed away on the eve of the party's organisational polls, through which Sonia is seeking to sanctify her nomination as Congress president—just as he himself had done, three years ago.