Checkmate! The master’s at play

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VISHWANATHAN ANAND

DECEMBER 11, 1969

Few sporting legends can contend with Vishwanathan Anand for the title of the greatest Indian sportsman ever. He may not enjoy the super-stardom of a Tendulkar or the reverence evoked by a Dhyan Chand, but he is the only Indian to have remained at the very top in a truly global sport for over a decade now.
In 1988, when Anand become a Grandmaster at 18, no Indian had ever earned the coveted title. Today, India has 15 GMs — and counting — and ranks in the top 20 among chessplaying nations. It’s an amazing transformation inspired and led by Anand. But his influence isn’t limited to chess. In many ways, the world No 1 chess player epitomises middleclass India’s arrival on the global stage. He plays all over the world, lives in Madrid — he and wife Aruna have learnt the salsa and their answering machine greets you in Spanish — but remains rooted in Indian values. He still craves for the rasam cooked by his mother and helps the underprivileged in Chennai as well as young players in the country.
Anand’s biggest message to the world of sport is simple: even the humble and gentle can be world-beaters. And how. In April this year, he became only the sixth player in history to lead the FIDE Elo chess ratings, he has been among the top three players in classical chess since 1997 and one of only four players to have achieved an Elo rating of over 2800. He was the FIDE world champion from 2000 to 2002.
Besides, he has won world rapid and blitz titles, numerous grand slams (Wijkaan Zee, Linares) and chess Oscars. The most gifted player after Bobby Fischer (for he excels in all formats of the game) has delivered when the onus was on him — in contrast, most of our other big sporting achievements crack under high pressure. There are still some unfinished moves on Anand’s chessboard. He aims to win the world title this September in Kramnik’s presence and also become the undisputed king of classical chess. And yes, win a medal for India in the chess Olympiad of 2008 in Dresden, Germany. “Chess is a very individual game,” says Anand. “It can spoil you. I don’t think I can ever work for a boss now.” No worries on that score, Grandmaster.

Don’t damn the people

MEDHA PATKAR

DECEMBER 1, 1954

When it rains in central India, there is one voice that drowns the sound of the swirling, raging waters of the Narmada. Of a woman, standing firm in the inundated villages, the water inching up her frail body menacingly. She is on yet another jal samadhi mission. Even the towering dams on the Narmada seem dwarfed.
And thus, Medha Patkar has ensured that India can never again remain unmoved by debates on dams, development and displacement. Over the past three decades, she has attracted some of the best brains and celebrities from urban India — from Arundhati Roy to Aamir Khan — to back a movement of thousands of peasants, women, tribals, the landless and marginalised to challenge the very logic of economic development.
She has become the focal point around which has spun a movement that has challenged the might of several state governments and the central government for almost two decades.
A post-graduate from the Tata Institute of Social Sciences, she gave up the life of an academic only to begin a furious mass movement, which later formalised into the Narmada Bachao Andolan (NBA). It began as a fight for information about the Narmada Valley Development Projects. And, over the years, it has continued as a fight for rehabilitation of the lakhs of people being left homeless by the Sardar Sarovar Dam and other large dams along the Narmada.
Over the years, the movement won a few battles and lost some critical ones. But, at the turn of the century, it has taught India its biggest lesson in economics: real development cannot be brought about at the cost of the poor.
Today, when the government still mulls over a ‘just’ rehabilitation policy, one is always reminded of Patkar’s role in bringing the issue to the centrestage of Indian politics. Her vociferous stand against big dams may even divide environmentalists into two camps. But, she has ensured that Nehru’s ‘temples of modern India’ cannot submerge the homes and voices of thousands just that easily.
She is remembered by the media and the intelligentsia for highlighting the larger debate, be it the Narmada or the Yangtze. But along the Narmada river, several thousand villagers remember her as the didi who ensured they get a roof over their heads, or a strip of seasonal river to carry out some farming on or a mafia-free pond to fish in. Urban India will always recollect her name passionately, tinged either with awe or rage but the farmers on India’s margins can only remember her with a degree of reverence.

Empire builder, equity guru DHIRUBHAI AMBANI DECEMBER 28, 1932 — JULY 6, 2002

Rags-to-riches stories are now cliché. Dhirubhai Ambani’s is among the most popular Indian ones, told and re-told with great felicity and flourish. The 16-year-old son of a school teacher goes to Aden and starts work at a petrol pump. He returns 10 years later and finds his way trading in textiles. Some smart work later, he takes over the market for imported polyester. Soon he builds a factory to manufacture it, manoeuvres his way deftly around the ‘Licence Raj’, and eventually builds a petrochemical and oil refining empire out of Reliance. It ends up as the first privately owned company to make its way to the list of Fortune 500 companies.
In doing all of this, Dhirubhai taught India two lessons alien to Indians:


• It’s alright to be rich:

Telling a nation that it’s alright to make money wasn’t easy at a time when Soviet-style socialism was the dominant theme. Dhirubhai started out telling people that in spite of coming out of nowhere, he could build something, and if they invested in his dream, the profits would be theirs to share. When Reliance debuted with its IPO in 1977, 58,000 Indians took the bait. He didn’t disappoint.


• Size matters:

He was the first Indian to truly understand the term ‘economies of scale’. At a time when government decided capacities for business, Dhirubhai thought otherwise. He outwitted the system and built capacities that were not based on reasonable projections of demand. When times were good, he had the bandwidth to meet demand. When times were bad, he had the economies of scale on his side — for instance, in 1997, when the markets were in crisis, Reliance’s profits grew 25% over the previous year. Either which way, Reliance gained. To that extent, the global ambition India Inc now harbours and the belligerence it exhibits, is Dhirubhai Ambani’s legacy.

Unreservedly, an Indian idol B R AMBEDKAR APRIL 14, 1891 — DECEMBER 6, 1956

It’s a tribute to the Congress that in a party bristling with lawyers and barristers, it chose someone from outside the organisation to head the drafting committee of the Indian Constitution in 1947. B R Ambedkar, of course, had all the necessary qualifications to guide the drafting of the Constitution of a country as populous and diverse as India. Born into an untouchable Mahar family, he went on to get a double doctorate from Columbia University and the University of London. Besides he was a barrister from Gray’s Inn.
Not surprisingly, Ambedkar drew inspiration from the American and British models to draft the Constitution. Though he argued for a wide range of civil liberties to be included in the Constitution, during the Constituent Assembly debates he convinced members that there had to be a system of reservation
for Dalits and tribals. If Ambedkar was instrumental in getting special privileges for scheduled castes and tribes inserted in the Constitution, he was active in raising Dalit consciousness outside Parliament.
Ambedkar resigned as law minister from the Nehru cabinet in 1951 following his strong objection to the draft of the Hindu Code Bill and formed the Scheduled Caste Federation. The party fared poorly in the 1952 elections with Ambedkar himself losing from Bombay. Just six weeks before his death, he registered his final protest against the caste system.
On October 15, 1956 Ambedkar, along with a few lakh followers, converted to Buddhism. Though some critics dismissed this as a gimmick, Ambedkar’s desire to make a statement by stepping outside the fold of Hinduism had a long history. His opening words at the Depressed Classes Conference in 1935 were: ‘‘I will not die a Hindu.’’ In the intervening years he toyed with several options before choosing Buddhism.
Ambedkar is one of those rare figures whose legacy far outstripped the influence he wielded during his lifetime. Statues of Ambedkar dressed in a suit with the Constitution in one hand dot the Indian countryside. He also remains an icon for Dalit groups, most notably the Bahujan Samaj Party.

He changed the face of our map POTTI SRIRAMULU MARCH 16, 1901 — DECEMBER 16, 1952

If Vallabhbhai Patel was largely responsible for the present boundaries of India, it was a former railway employee and Gandhian from Madras who was the catalyst for a redrawing of the map of India. On October 19, 1952 Potti Sriramulu began a fast in the heart of Madras city demanding that a separate state be carved out of Madras province for Telugu-speaking people.
Much before Independence, the Congress had understood that the British administrative units would not be practical in free India. Many provincial Congress committees were based on linguistic zones and not the administrative divisions of British India. Shortly after Independence, Mahatma Gandhi wrote that ‘‘government should hurry up with the reorganisation of linguistic provinces’’.
Nehru was, however, not convinced. In the aftermath of the Partition, he felt that any further division of India could undermine the stability of the country. In this Patel supported him. But the Congress’s position could not prevent the movements for linguistic autonomy from gathering momentum. Kannada, Marathi, Malayalam and Gujarati speakers were all demanding separate states. The Vishala Andhra movement by Telugu speakers was by far the most vigorous.
Nehru, who had felt the ire of Telugu protesters during the election campaign for the 1952 elections, told Parliament on May 22: ‘‘Even though the formation of linguistic provinces may be desirable in some cases, this would obviously be the wrong time.’’ It was in this backdrop that Sriramulu began his fast. When Nehru heard of Sriramulu’s fast, he decided to ignore it. After keeping off food for 56 days, Sriramulu died.
Immediately all hell broke loose. Large numbers took to the streets and many were injured or killed in police firing. Several legislators resigned their seats in protest. In December 1952, Nehru was forced to concede the protesters’ demands and announced the formation of a separate Andhra sate. This would lead to the setting up of the States Reorganisation Committee in 1953. On the basis of its report, 14 states and six union territories were created in 1956.
Sriramulu did not live to see the formation of Andhra Pradesh. He would have probably been stunned at how his fast transformed the geography of India.

Unifying states-man SARDAR VALLABHBHAI PATEL OCTOBER 31, 1875 — DECEMBER 15, 1950

Had it not been for Vallabhbhai Patel, the map of India might have looked quite different. In the days leading up to August 15, 1947, one of the crucial issues was how to integrate the 565-odd princely states into the Indian nation. Patel, along with his trusted aide V P Menon, set about this task with ruthless determination.
By Independence Day, most princely states had signed the Instrument of Accession. There were three notable holdouts and only one without a border with Pakistan: Hyderabad. The Nizam of Hyderabad wanted independence or accession to Pakistan. This was an unworkable demand.
In September 1948, Patel swung into action and convinced Nehru and governorgeneral C Rajagopalachari to take military action against the Nizam. Within days the Nizam was forced to surrender.
In Kashmir — the other princely state demanding independence — Patel’s hardnosed strategy was ignored. When Pakistan invaded Kashmir in 1948, Patel wanted to send in troops immediately. But he was kept at bay by Nehru and Mountbatten. Patel played a key role in the subsequent military operations in Kashmir. He was also bitterly opposed to Nehru’s suggestion to take the issue to the UN. Ironically, even Nehru would later come to regret this decision.
After Mahatma Gandhi’s death, Patel was the only one within the Congress who could outflank Nehru. A consummate backroom person, he often knew the pulse of the Congress rank and file much better than Nehru. During the jockeying over who would become India’s first president. Nehru backed Rajagopalachari while Patel’s man was Rajendra Prasad. Patel got the party cadre to propose Prasad’s name and it was Prasad who became the first president.
Nehru and Patel again clashed over the Congress presidency in 1951. Nehru was against the candidature of Purshottam Das Tandon, a conservative Hindu. But Tandon won with Patel’s support, prompting Nehru to declare he felt unwanted in the Congress. Patel, ever the loyal Congressman, patched up with Nehru. Indeed, he never let his differences with Nehru undercut the party. In the early years of Independence, when the Congress was virtually identified with India, this meant a great deal.

The man who saw tomorrow JAWAHARLAL NEHRU NOVEMBER 14, 1889 — MAY 27, 1964

To a majority of Indians, Nehru represents a vision. A vision of a democratic, progressive, secular and equitable India. It’s a vision that shaped modern India, and one whose legacy we continue to grapple with.
For some he is a demigod; for others he is responsible for everything that is wrong with India. But if there is one aspect of Nehru’s sprawling legacy that shines through it is his commitment to democracy. Most of the nationstates that emerged out of the debris of colonial empires quickly took the authoritarian route. India, which was thought to have among the worst chances of survival, was a rare exception. Not only did it survive, it did so as a thriving democracy. Nehru had a big hand in that unique achievement.
The Harrow- and Cambridge-educated Nehru was, however, not always comfortable with the idea of mass democracy. He once admitted in his classic, The Discovery of India, that he approached India as an alien critic. He also
despaired that Indian democracy would turn out to be a “preserve of those possessing thick skins and loud voices and accommodating consciences”. But that didn’t deflect from his faith in the people of India.
The other cardinal principle of Nehru’s philosophy was a belief in the centralised state and planning to overcome the intractable problems of a newly independent India. He felt that Soviet-style planning could not only chart a brave future for India but also deal with its myriad problems. This would form the blueprint for India’s industrialisation and result in the “temples of modern India” such as the Bhakra Nangal dam. It would also create a monster state that played God over common citizens but was dysfunctional in large swathes of the country.
It was Nehru who guided India to its tryst with destiny in 1947. By the time he died in 1964, shattered by the humiliating defeat to China, some of the Nehruvian ideals such as non-alignment were already losing their gloss. But his vision of a democratic India has long outlived his death and survived the test of time.

Rocket scientist to rocking Prez APJ ABDUL KALAM OCTOBER 15, 1931

Anand, April 12, 2002. Nuclear scientist APJ Abdul Kalam put a question to the students of Anandalaya High School. ‘‘Who is our enemy?’’ ‘‘Poverty,’’ answered Snehal Thakkar. Later, she was delighted to find that, impressed by her answer, the man who would soon be President had dedicated his book, Ignited Minds, to her.
Kalam was a surprise candidate for President but when he left Rashtrapati Bhawan after five years, he was the most popular president ever. He flew in a Sukhoi, met soldiers at Siachen and answered every question on his website. The rocket scientist with a weird hairstyle who reached Rashtrapati Bhawan lock, stock and Veena, was the People’s President, bringing a breath of fresh air into the sprawling structure encrusted with tradition. Now that his term is over, he’s enthusiastically returned to his ‘‘real passion’’, teaching.
Kalam traversed the long, arduous road from selling newspapers and tamarind seeds in Rameswaram to the highest office in the country. In contrast to the sound and fury that has preceded the election of his successor, India’s first woman President, it was Kalam’s apolitical status that made him so popular. The fact that he was a technocrat and dabbled in missiles added to the Kalam mystique.
His life has taken interesting turns. When he could not become a pilot with the Indian Air Force, he trekked to the Himalayas to visit a swami, who advised him to accept cheerfully what was destined.
Then came his “big break”. After the successful development of a hovercraft, he was interviewed by Vikram Sarabhai and moved to Thumba, which was being developed as a rocket launching station. Sarabhai also asked him to design a Satellite Launch Vehicle and, after a failed attempt, it was launched successfully in 1980, ushering India into the space age. At DRDO he developed five missiles — Agni, Prithvi, Akash, Trishul and Nag.
He felt the nuclear bomb was necessary if India were to attain the status of a superpower. What better proof of this than Kalam being part of Pokhran?

Free India’s FIRST FAMILY Liberator, dictator, matriarch INDIRA GANDHI NOVEMBER 19, 1917 — OCTOBER 31, 1984

There are few more polarising figures than Indira Gandhi. Hailed as the ‘Iron Lady’, victor of the Bangladesh war, a gutsy leader who stood up to the US and an uncompromising defender of national unity, she has also been accused of authoritarianism, dynastic politics and eroding democratic institutions.
Born into a political family, Indira grew up in the Nehru ancestral home of Anand Bhavan, “headquarters” of the Independence struggle. A lonely child, she made do with an absentee father and an ailing mother who often suffered taunts from the more sophisticated women in the Nehru household. But as her father Jawaharlal’s hostess during his years as prime minister, she proved an adept learner.
Trouncing Morarji Desai by 355 votes to 169 in a Congress parliamentary party election after Lal Bahadur Shastri’s demise, she began the first of her three terms as PM. After the 1967 elections, she pushed bank nationalisation, abolished privy purses and used a presidential contest to rout the syndicate — a grouping of Congress bosses. In 1971, she decisively won the general elections campaigning on the famous slogan of Garibi Hatao (end poverty).
Her finest hour was the skill with which she handled an influx of 10 million refugees fleeing Pakistani jackboots in 1971. Despite Pakistan enjoying US backing, a resounding military victory saw the birth of Bangladesh and the Simla pact. A long-term strategic partnership with Moscow was also born. Though criticised for not formalising the LoC as border, the Simla agreement did confine Kashmir to a bilateral framework. It was a huge confidence pill for a fledgling nation seeking to reconcile myriad ethnic, religious and regional identities. In 1974, India tested the N-bomb, bringing to fruition an atomic programme seeded by Nehru.
As protests led by JP Narayan snowballed and the Allahabad HC held her guilty of electoral malpractice, Indira Gandhi imposed Emergency on June 21, 1975. Buses famously ran on time, civil rights were crushed and Opposition leaders jailed. Then, she suddenly called for elections. Cynics say it’s because she was misled by reports predicting a sweeping win, loyalists insist she always remained committed to democracy deep down. Either way, she was routed.
But India’s first experiment with a coalition at the Centre turned into a fiasco, and Indira swept back to power, promising to deliver a ‘government that works’. Tragically, her initial pandering to Sikh militants eventually led to Army action in the Golden Temple and her assassination. Though she adored her father, Indira lacked Nehru’s tolerant spirit. But as an instinctive leader, she was decisive when it mattered.

Star of the milky way VERGHESE KURIEN NOVEMBER 26, 1921

His first job was at Tata Steel in Jamshedpur, natural for someone trained to become an engineer in metallurgy. His aim was to specialise in nuclear physics but he ended up with something as mundane as dairy technology.
He called it ‘bonded labour’ when, on his return to India from Michigan, USA, he was compelled to go to Anand and work in a government-run dairy research centre because he was not in a position to repay the Rs 30,000 that the government had spent on his studies abroad. He arrived in Anand, hoping to leave at the first opportunity. Today, this ‘Milk Capital of India’ is still home to the Father of White Revolution, Verghese Kurien.
Tata’s loss was a gain for India’s farmers. As Ratan Tata wrote in the foreword to Kurien’s memoirs I Too Had A Dream, “He made India’s dairy industry the largest rural employment provider. The co-operatives he created have also become powerful agents of social change in empowering women and in embedding democracy at the grassroots level in the country.”
Thanks to this visionary, who pioneered ‘Operation Flood’, India is the world’s largest milk producer. The logistic chain created through a series of institutions that Kurien built and headed for decades has created one of the world’s largest food marketing businesses. Amul, the country’s largest food brand, is also its most loved. Safal and Dhara have emerged as brands coveted by the best of multinationals.
The massive network of dairy cooperatives collects milk twice a day from more than 12.6 million farmers. The milk travels through 10,000 routes to about 180 dairy plants where it is processed, packed and sent to markets in almost 800 big and small towns every day. Recent studies have shown that farmer suicides are negligible in areas where milk co-operatives are strong.
As founder chairman of the National Dairy Development Board, the Gujarat Co-operative Milk Marketing Federation and the Institute of Rural Management, Kurien didn’t just create dairies and co-operatives. He built institutions, which are now a source of inspiration for other developing countries.

Saint of the gutters who gave dignity to death MOTHER TERESA AUGUST 27, 1910 — SEPTEMBER 5, 1997

Mother Teresa took service to the entire detritus of society to a limit not considered humanly possible till then. This is why she was revered as an angel of heaven. Or sometimes denounced by critics as one from the opposite address.
Mother Teresa put Kolkata on the world map, but many of its citizens could be forgiven for complaining that it was for all the wrong reasons. Her work began and found its greatest resonance there, but it forever turned Kolkata into the world metaphor of squalor. Among the most riveting images to have come out of a city high on visual drama remains that of a rickshaw carrying a dying destitute on the lap of a nun in the now-iconic blue-bordered sari of the Missionaries of Charity.
Kolkata was not just Rajiv Gandhi’s dying city; it had given up on itself. At one level, the work of Mother T with the beggars she picked off the street, the lepers of Tollygunge, underlined that hopelessness. At another, it transfigured the gutter. Poverty is easily romanticised, especially when viewed through the prism of a superhuman figure in the incongruous form of a tiny, frail nun. But the saint of the gutters arguably did make a difference to the way the double disadvantage of the dying destitute was viewed in a country where life came cheap, and went with even less of an impact on the account book of the conscience.
Mother Teresa’s Indian-ness has been eagerly claimed by a nation eager to bask in her global and Nobel reputation. Yet it was the foreignness of the woman born Agnes Gonxa Bojaxhiu in Skopje, Macedonia in 1910 which enhanced her myth, and to lesser degree hindered her work. It made her that much more heroic, and that much more suspect.
Long before she died in 1997, Mother T became the 20th century’s synonym for compassion. The world may have flocked to her Homes to expiate its sins and its luxuries, but it will always be debatable whether her adopted compatriots are truly richer for having had her among them for 66 years.

Breaking The Sound Barrier A R RAHMAN JANUARY 6, 1967

When the producers of the musical Lord of the Rings needed a music director to come up with tunes that would do justice to the very British JRR Tolkien’s riveting vision of Middle Earth, they turned to the man known as the ‘Mozart of Madras’. The same man who earlier had London, and Broadway, swinging to the tunes he composed for Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Bombay Dreams.
And that’s what makes A R Rahman truly remarkable. He didn’t just bring a world sound to Indian cinema, he also put contemporary Indian music — or at least his version, which effortlessly blends techno, rap, latino, disco, reggae and ragas into a sumptuous potpourri — on the world map. Today, the snooty no longer have to be embarrassed to confess they like Bollywood music, because Rahman’s scores play at the trendiest London nightclubs. Indeed, transcending borders seems to be his speciality.
The haunting score of Mani Ratnam’s Roja catapulted him from being a 25-year-old prodigy known only down south to an all-India phenomenon. From there to his assignments abroad, he’s truly proved that great music knows no boundaries.
The reclusive genius who likes to work at night has a life story that itself makes for a great musical. Born A S Dileep Kumar, his family converted to Islam after a Sufi saint miraculously brought about the recovery of his ailing sister. He was playing piano and harmonium by the time he was four; his father’s synthesiser was his favourite childhood toy. Losing his father at the age of nine, he began playing the keyboard professionally to support his family.
A scholarship to Oxford University’s Trinity College of Music helped him get a degree in Western classical music. Returning to India, he was busy playing in local rock bands and creating ad jingles when he met Ratnam. The rest is musical history. Oh, and by the way, he’s also created easily the greatest patriotic anthem of our times — the chartbusting, rousing Maa Tujhe Salaam.

Accidental politician RAJIV GANDHI AUGUST 20, 1944 — MAY 21, 1991

Even as he lay dead, identifiable only by his white Lottos, it was difficult to shake off the impression that Rajiv Gandhi was an accidental traveller in politics. Six years after he won and lost power, within knocking distance of high office again, he was dealt a heavy hand by fate.
On the night of May 21, 1991, Rajiv’s comeback journey was brutally ended by an LTTE suicide bomber at an election rally in Sriperumbudur. Loyalists insist he had matured and would have fared better in a second term. We’ll never know.
For much of his youth, Rajiv stayed resolutely in the shadows. The only time one heard of him was through newspaper snippets tracking his steady career growth as a pilot. His brother’s untimely death saw him being propelled into politics, his mother’s led to his becoming PM — over the vehement protests of his wife, who feared, prophetically, that he too would meet a violent end. But initially, all went well. He led Congress to its biggest win ever. For a while, it seemed as if Camelot had come to New Delhi.
Rajiv was young, handsome, and spoke of taking India into the 21st century. The future seemed to beckon as tech whizzes like Sam Pitroda unrolled the telecom revolution. Rajiv also gave Indian diplomacy a new direction, wowing the sceptical American establishment during a US visit, even as he made sure to maintain warm ties with the Soviet Union.
Then things started going wrong. His attempt to bring peace to Punjab faltered. And the IPKF venture in Sri Lanka, while well-intentioned, was doomed from the start. His honeymoon with the middle-class — which reached its peak when he famously lashed out at his party’s culture of power brokers — collapsed in the face of the Bofors scam even as the same Congress culture sucked him in.
Still, he earned much goodwill for his dignified exit after the 1989 polls. Before long, he was back on the campaign trail. His assassination deprived him of a second chance as PM. But it gave his party another five years in power — and paved the way for India’s reforms.