Patel – Borderless

Book review by Satya Narayan Misra

Title: Honest John – A Life of John Matthai

Author: Bakhtiar K Dadabhoy

Publisher: Penguin Random House

John Matthai’s name has little resonance for today’s generation, but he was one of the brightest stars in the firmament of his time, and even in retrospect. He cultivated many gardens, starting his life as a lawyer and later becoming a professor, administrator, banker, corporate leader, and Minister. In this delightful biography of Matthai, whom Nehru called “Honest John”, Bakhtiar K Dadabhoy tells us of the different hats worn by him. For his students in Madras, he was a shy professor who was one of the most lucid exponents of a dry subject like economics. JRD Tata would always turn to him for sagacious advice.

For Nehru, who greatly respected his ability and integrity, Matthai filled two cabinet posts, even though the parting was somewhat unpleasant when Matthai resigned as Finance Minister, as he feared that the newly created Planning Commission would be a ‘parallel cabinet’ and would be in perennial conflict with his department. CD Deshmukh, the redoubtable civil servant who succeeded him as FM in the Matthai Memorial Lecture said: “He was one of the most cultured products of India, having a perceptive and thoughtful mind, a sobriety of judgment of men and affairs, a rare concern for principles, scholarliness, with its flames kept lit by regular reading.”

He was the first Indian to get his DSc from LSE in 1916 and worked under Professor Sidney Webb, a Fabian socialist, who was at the height of his powers and fame. Though Webb was his guide, he was at no time a Leftist or socialist Professor of Economics. He had a thorough understanding of what free enterprise could do. He was one of the principal authors of the Bombay Plan, a memorandum submitted to the government in 1944 led by Tata, Birla and Thakurdas.

The Bombay Plan represented a search for a new style of capitalism that would chart a middle path between state-led planning and private enterprise. This was in the background of a fierce intellectual debate fought in England between two towering economists, Hayek and Keynes.

While Keynes advocated active state intervention and the desirability of state-funded programs, Hayek favored non-interventionism and free trade. It was to the credit of Matthai that the planners envisaged a mixed economy, in which the state and the private sector would play a complementary role, thus proposing a visionary compromise between two systems, free market and state control.

Ironically, he resigned as Finance Minister after failing to reconcile with Nehru on the setting up of the Planning Commission. According to historian Rakesh Ankit, it was an individual and an institution that made the widening differences unbridgeable. It was Trone, born to Jewish parents and an engineer with General Electric involved in an electrification drive in the USSR, who impressed Nehru with his All India Plan of a ‘managed mixed economy’ that was sufficiently controlled to ensure equity.

While Nehru was taken by Trone’s view that a Planning Commission would reflect regional aspirations and diversity, and his view that Indian capitalists were only out to make profits, Matthai did not share his enthusiasm. In a letter to Nehru, he wrote that the Indian economy was like a “damaged ship and our job is to repair it and not as naval architects but experienced, competent workmen.” Nehru responded by defending planning as ‘a positive active policy’, giving examples of planned progress made by England, Germany, Italy, the Soviet Union, and Japan since the war.

Unlike Patel, who was a hard-headed realist, Nehru loved the abstract argument and delighted in drawing generalised inferences from situations that offered the slightest provocation to his nimble mind. Speaking six years later, after the Planning Commission was formed, Matthai said that “the planning commission has become a body of amateurs, with whom, for all practical purposes, the final decision rests in matters of economic development.” Most of Matthai’s fears about the Planning Commission proved to be well-founded. Critics like Kripalini and Rajagopalachari openly showed their displeasure. Rajaji founded the anti-socialist party.

Dadabhoy also gives a glimpse of how Liaquat Ali Khan, as FM in the interim government, proposed a business profits tax, an increase in corporate tax, a dividend tax, capital gains tax and a high-powered tribunal to deal with tax evasion. Matthai was the only non-league cabinet minister to defend the budget in public. But Patel and Rajgopalchari, who made no secret of being pro-capitalist, saw the budget as a way of harassing businessmen.

Ventilating his frustration with the hegemony planning enjoyed, he wrote to Nehru: “I fear a church is growing around the God of Planning”. However, planning remained the master narrative, and the plans laid the foundation for infrastructure in sectors like steel, fertilizers, cement and chemicals, promoting agricultural self-sufficiency and focusing on inclusive growth and social justice.

Wavell noted in his diary on 5th March 1947, “Nehru, Patel & Bhabha find that the budget is not popular with their big business supporters and are trying to rat or hedge.”Matthai abolished the capital gains tax and reduced super taxes. Pandit Kunzru doubted, “If such reductions would lead to greater productivity. A time has come if free enterprise is to be given a free hand or the country should opt for a socialist economy.” It was only a decade ago that Prime Minister Modi abolished the Planning Commission without any discussion.

Matthai had an unconventional approach to budget presentation. He is the only railway minister to deliver a budget speech without a prepared text. In 1950, he chose to deliver his Union Budget speech extempore. Dadabhoy also brings out unknown facets of Matthai’s personality. He approached Nehru and Patel to bail out his son, who had run over someone while driving his car in Allahabad. Nehru was reluctant to help, but Patel intervened, and Matthai’s son was bailed out and quietly sent to England to escape the net of law. Matthai was known for his honesty and uprightness, but his fondness for his son blinded him to those values.

Matthai, despite his serious differences with Nehru on the issue of the Planning Commission, was a great admirer of Nehru. He wrote after his first meeting with him, “If he ever asked me to go to prison with him, I should find it difficult to refuse.” Mathai considered his long association with the Tatas to be the happiest period of his life. Sir Homi Mody, a Tata luminary later to become the governor of Uttar Pradesh was known for his wit. Homy contended, “Matthai had all the advantages of face, figure, manner, and voice and invested everything he said with an air of profundity. Matthai was a technocrat of different timber who did not mix personal respect with policy differences.”

Though trained under Fabian socialist, Sydney Webb, whom Nehru adored, he did not jump into the trap of socialism. He was a pragmatist who looked at India’s damaged ship, post-Partition, through the lens of competent workmen. Judging a visionary like Nehru and a pragmatist like Matthai can be a nightmare for any biographer. However, Dadabhoy skirts the issue with skill.

Professor Satya Narayan Misra is a distinguished expert in Public Procurement & Contracts with over three decades of experience in the Indian Economic Service & Indian Defence Accounts Service. He has made significant contributions in drafting a manual for defence procurement and bolstering self-reliance in critical technology. He has authored seven influential books and published 127 research articles, including 18 in prestigious Scopus-indexed journals such as the Economic and Political Weekly (EPW) and Defence Studies (UK). He looks at macroeconomic issues through the lens of Constitutional expectations. He is a Professor Emeritus and a sought-after speaker on public policy, budget, development issues, and Constitutional Cases.

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Let’s Be Best Friends Forever

Title: Let’s Be Best Friends Forever: Beautiful Stories of Friendship

Publisher: Talking Cub, Speaking Tiger Books

From ‘The Tunnel of Friendship’ by Ruskin Bond

I had already started writing my first book. It was called Nine Months, but had nothing to do with a pregnancy; it referred merely to the length of the school term, the beginning of March to the end of November, and it detailed my friendships and escapades at school and lampooned a few of our teachers. I had filled three slim exercise books with this premature literary project, and I allowed Azhar to go through them. He was my first reader and critic. ‘They’re very interesting. But you’ll get into trouble if someone finds them,’ was his verdict.

We returned to Shimla, having won our matches against Sanawar, and were school heroes for a couple of days. And then my housemaster discovered my literary opus and took it away and read it. I was given six of the best with a Malacca cane, and my manuscript was torn up. Azhar knew better than to say ‘I told you so’ when I showed him the purple welts on my bottom. Instead, he repeated the more outrageous bits he remembered from the notebooks and laughed, till I began to laugh too.

‘Will you go away when the British leave India?’ Azhar asked me one day.

‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘My stepfather is Indian. My mother’s family have lived here for generations.’

‘Everyone is saying they’re going to divide the country. I think I’ll have to go away.’

‘Oh, it won’t happen,’ I said glibly. ‘How can they cut up such a big country?’

‘Gandhi will stop them,’ he said.

But even as we dismissed the possibility, Jinnah, Nehru and Mountbatten and all those who mattered were preparing their instruments for major surgery.

Before their decision had any effect on our life, we found a little freedom of our own—in an underground tunnel that we discovered in a corner of the school grounds. It was really part of an old, disused drainage system, and when Azhar and I began exploring it, we had no idea just how far it extended. After crawling along on our bellies for some twenty feet, we found ourselves in complete darkness. It was a bit frightening, but moving backwards would have been quite impossible, so we continued writhing forward, until we saw a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. Dusty, a little bruised and very scruffy, we emerged at last on to a grassy knoll, a little way outside the school boundary. We’d found a way to escape school!

The tunnel became our beautiful secret. We would sit and chat in it, or crawl through it just for the thrill of stealing out of the school to walk in the wilderness. Or to lie on the grass, our heads touching, reading comics or watching the kites and eagles wheeling in the sky. In those quiet moments, I became aware of the beauty and solace of nature more keenly than I had been till then: the scent of pine needles, the soothing calls of the Himalayan bulbuls, the feel of grass on bare feet, and the low music of the cicadas.

World War II had just come to an end, the United Nations held out the promise of a world living in peace and harmony, and India, an equal partner with Britain, would be among the great nations…

But soon we learnt that Bengal and Punjab provinces, with their large Muslim populations, were to be bisected. Everyone was in a hurry: Jinnah and company were in a hurry to get a country of their own; Nehru, Patel and others were in a hurry to run a free, if truncated, India; and Britain was in a hurry to get out. Riots flared up across northern India.

At school, the common room radio and the occasional newspaper kept us abreast of events. But in our tunnel Azhar and I felt immune from all that was happening, worlds away from all the pillage, murder and revenge. Outside the tunnel, there was fresh untrodden grass, sprinkled with clover and daisies, the only sounds the hammering of a woodpecker, and the distant insistent call of the Himalayan barbet. Who could touch us there?

‘And when all wars are done,’ I said, ‘a butterfly will still be beautiful.’

‘Did you read that somewhere?’ Azhar asked.

‘No, it just came into my head.’

‘It’s good. Already you’re a writer.’

Though it felt good to hear him say that, I made light of it. ‘No, I want to play hockey for India or football for Arsenal. Only winning teams!’

‘You’ll lose sometimes, you know, even if you get into those teams,’ said wise old Azhar. ‘You can’t win forever. Better to be a writer.’

One morning after chapel, the headmaster announced that the Muslim boys—those who had their homes in what was now Pakistan—would have to be evacuated. They would be sent to their homes across the border with an armed convoy.

It was time for Azhar to leave, along with some fifty other boys from Lahore, Rawalpindi and Peshawar. The rest of us—Hindus, Christians, Buddhists, Sikhs and Parsis—helped them load their luggage into the waiting British Army trucks that would take them to Lahore. A couple of boys broke down and wept, including our departing school captain, a Pathan who had been known for his unemotional demeanour. Azhar waved to me and I waved back. We had vowed to meet again some day. We both kept our composure.

The headmaster announced a couple of days later that all the boys had reached Pakistan and were safe. On the morning of 15 August 1947, we were marched up to town to witness the Indian flag being raised for the first time. Shimla was still the summer capital of India, so it was quite an event. It was raining that morning. We were in our raincoats and gumboots, while a sea of umbrellas covered the Mall.

(Extracted from Let’s Be Best Friends Forever: Beautiful Stories of Friendship, with an introduction by Jerry Pinto. Published by Talking Cub, the children’s imprint of Speaking Tiger Books.)

ABOUT THE BOOK

An Afghan trader and a young Bengali girl form a touching connection that transcends cultural barriers in Rabindranath Tagore’s classic story ‘The Kabuliwala’. Jo March and Laurie from Little Women meet at a dull party and become companions for life. L. Frank Baum’s timeless characters Dorothy and Toto adventure around Oz forging magical bonds of friendship.

The brave queen of Jhansi and her ally Jhalkaribai come together to fight for freedom and dignity; Jesse Owens narrates an inspiring tale of sportsmanship and solidarity from his Olympic days; and twelve-year-old Kamala and her friends, Edward, Amir and Amma, endure the Partition riots together in Bulbul Sharma’s heart-warming story.

In these pages you will also meet Nimmi and her best pal, Kabir, whose school misadventures include spirited debates; Sunny, whose love for books leads to a new friendship on a trip to Darjeeling; Cyril and Neil, who face life’s challenges with inventive word games, and Siya, who discovers that true friends can come in the most unexpected forms—even as a cherished doll.

Animal lovers will delight in the escapades of Gillu, the charming squirrel, Harold, the handsome hornbill, Rikki-tikki-tavi, the loyal mongoose, Hira and Moti, the powerful oxen, and Bagheera, the brave panther who looks after the young boy Mowgli.

With stories from beloved and popular authors—Ruskin Bond, Rudyard Kipling, Mahadevi Varma, Jerry Pinto, Shabnam Minwalla, and many more—Let’s Be Best Friends Forever is an enchanting collection that celebrates the universal power and beauty of friendship.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL