5/31/2013

In Memory of Saki...

By SAMVARTHA 'SAHIL' on Crazy Mind's Eye blog

Ashok Shettar in his regular column in Avadhi wrote about Saket Rajan. I refused to read it on the day it was published. The following day I couldnt resist myself from reading. I read it and sat silently for a while and coincidentally one Abhishek Srivastava had written about Saket Rajan on his wall:

क्‍या आपने साकेत राजन का नाम सुना है? आज पत्रकारिता दिवस पर उन्‍हें याद करना बहुत मौजूं है। साकेत राजन उर्फ कॉमरेड प्रेम- जिन्‍होंने अस्‍सी के दशक में IIMC से पत्रकारिता की पढ़ाई की और दीक्षांत समारोह में इमरजेंसी के लिए कुख्‍यात उन्‍हीं विद्याचरण शुक्‍ल के हाथों डिग्री लेने से इनकार कर दिया जो आज मेदांता अस्‍पताल में मौत से जूझ रहे हैं- उन्‍हें 6 फरवरी 2005 को धोखे से मार दिया गया था। IIMC Alumni Association से तो खैर क्‍या ही उम्‍मीद की जाए, लेकिन जिन्‍हें अब भी एक्टिविज्‍म और पत्रकारिता से न्‍यूनतम सरोकार बचा है, वे साकेत राजन के बारे में जानने, उनका लिखा पढ़ने और ज्‍यादा जानकारी जुटाने का प्रयास करेंगे, ऐसी आशा है।

The very thought of Saket Rajan makes me restless and I cant lay my fingers on one reason and explain why he makes me restless. Now in a restless state of mind, after read Ashok Shettar’s column- with all the comments- and the note by Abhishek Srivastava I sit to write this note, on what I know not…

It was only during my last days of class 12 that I started becoming politically conscious. When I joined for my under graduation because of my association with some radical seniors I started reading about and on Marxism, Socialism etc. Not that I understood everything but still I continued to read and whatever little I grasped charged me up.

When I was in my second year of UG that I started fancying armed revolution as a romantic idealist. In a few months I came across an interview of Comrade Prem in Lankesh Patrike. The editorial of Captain (Gauri Lankesh) also spoke of Com. Prem and also had a slice from a poem that he had written on the death of Ken Saro Wiwa, the Nigerian playwright and activist, who was hanged by the then Nigerian regime in 1995 for his anti Shell mobilization and movement of the Ogoni people. The part of the poem published in Lankesh Patrike, monsoon 2004 was:

It was a lesson
You learned too late.
Your pen
Playwright
Should’ve been backed
By the gun, alright.
Viva Ken,
Poet, playwright
Wake up
Its past night
Your corpse sleeps in the coffin
Your spirit fills the air.
Stab the heart
That pumps out oil,
Shell the brain
That causes the drain,
Avenge the Saros of humankind.

By then I was under the heavy influence of Ken Viva’s short story Africa Kills Her Sun, in which Bana writes to Zole the day before him being hanged, explaining why he took an anti-social route which made a heavy impact on me. So when I read Com. Prem’s poem, especially the line, “Your pen playwright should have been backed by the gun,” I wondered if that is what Ken Viwa who fought for the Agoni people and against the multi-national Shell oil company lacked which caused him his life and the weakening of the battle for Agoni people. Yes, said my naive mind. I saw the short story of Ken as his own changed belief regarding armed revolt, at the face of death. Com. Prem happened to say the same thing and it was all convincing to the naive mind of mine. As the poetry and the words of Com. Prem uttered in the interview seeped into my heart he became my hero.

Few months later some of my friends decided on a trek to Western Ghats. I agreed and we all went for a trek on 6 Feb 2005. While walking thorough the forests I kept remembering the description by Captain, in her editorial, on the path cutting through the forest to reach Com. Prem I remember having recited the poem of Com. Prem to a friend of mine after speaking about him for a while and also telling my friend, in my romantic ideas of armed revolution, that I wouldn’t mind joining Com. Prem in the forest.

When I woke up from deep sleep next morning the news paper carried the news about the assassination of Com. Prem whose name, which I wasn’t aware of, in real was Saket Rajan. My eyes swelled. I felt restless. I read the newspaper again and again and tears rolled down my eyes. Was it only his assassination that disturbed me or was it something more, I dont know. Because I had read and re-read the line saying a gun was found next to his body and I kept remembering the line, “Your pen and playwright should’ve been backed by the gun,” and it convincing me that Ken had lost the battle because he was not backed by the gun. But now here was the photo of Com. Prem alias Saket Rajan’s dead body and the report saying he had a gun in his hand. Suddenly it felt like the path that I had fancied also did not assure changing the world. The unarmed struggle of Ken stood at one end and the armed struggle of Com. Prem stood at the other end and I saw both ends meet at one point, not succeeding to change anything much but ending in almost a similar manner- at the hands of the state. It looked like a dead-end to me for I saw Ken and Com. Prem both die without achieving the larger cause that they dreamt of that they lived for and also died for. The system had managed to beat both of them and both the ways too. It was a moment of disillusionment to a naive romantic idealist. I cried like a child for I had lost not just a hero but also had lost a hopeful illusion.

The newspapers spoke of his background and his education reading which my admiration for the man shot up sky high, which was until then based on just the poem, the interview and the writing by Captain. Saki was born to a upper caste upper class family in Mysore. His father was a Major in the Indian army. Saki had left all of this behind for the causes of the wretched f the earth. One of the magazines, I remember, spoke of an incident where a policeman was abducted by Com. Prem and co who on being released did not get his job for it was suspected that he had some association with the Naxalites. Com. Prem then, the article has read, had pressed the department of police to take the policeman back for it was a matter of his livelihood. This incident showcased the human side of the so called “greatest internal threat”. This quality to respect and understand the member from the so called enemy camp was simply amazing and unheard of. To Com. Prem the policeman was not the enemy but a human being working for his livelihood which he respected. His enemy was the larger system and its that which he was fighting.

The newspaper also read that he had authored two volumes of Karanataka history titled MAKING HISTORY in the name Saki. I was shocked. Shocked because I had seen those books in the book stalls of Mangalore then and wondered how come Saki- Hectar Hugh Munro- had written about Karnataka history and had ignored it as “bogus” because I couldn’t imagine a British fiction writer would write two volumes of Karanataka history. Now I went in search of the book again and couldn’t find it anywhere. One of my teachers said that he had bought two volumes and given it to the library. But the then Principal of the college burnt the book fearing it being found in the college library. My search for the book was on even when aware that the book, which untill then was a prescribed text in one of the Universities in Karanataka, was banned overnight when it was realized that the unknown author Saki was Com. Prem alias Saket Rajan. I finally read the first volume of the book in 2008.

The ‘dead-end’ which my naive mind saw those days (2005) made me write an article on Saket Rajan alias Saki alias Com. Prem for our college magazine which went unpublished. The editor of the college magazine had called me and said, “Do you want me to lose my job? I cant approve this for the college magazine.” In 2011 I had also attempted writing a play on Saki and wanted to meet some of his friends who could give me some inputs on his life. Because I couldn’t access those details the play got stuck after the first act. Now I hear that a film is being made on Saki about which I feel happy and also envy.

But every time I remember Saki alias Saket Rajan alias Com. Prem I remember that day when I read the news of his assassination and the ‘dead-end’ that the I the hot blooded naive romantic idealist saw then. “What is the way?” was/ is the question that Saki, my the then hero, left me with intertwining himself, for me, with Ken Viwa. Its that question which still makes me restless for I, in my struggle to be intensely and regularly associated with social activism and living my life, am still struggling to answer for myself and also feeling guilty about not being able to leave behind all comforts like Saki did and not being able to make the greater common good a completely personal goal, merging the self and the world.


Courtesy: Crazy Mind's Eye

5/30/2013

Questions Raised Over Intended Target of Maoist Attack



By RAHUL PANDITA
(The New York Times blog)

Mustafa Quraishi/Associated Press
Mahendra Karma, center, surrounded by bodyguards at his residence in Jagdalpur in Chhattisgarh, on Apr. 15, 2007.

NEW DELHI— On May 25, a convoy of cars carrying senior leaders of the Congress Party and others was attacked by the Maoist guerrillas in southern Chhattisgarh in central India. It was one of the most audacious attacks by the Maoists, who now work under one umbrella group called the Communist Party of India (Maoist).

One of the 25 who were killed was a man the Maoists had been trying to hunt down for years. In 2006, Mahendra Karma of the Congress Party founded Salwa Judum (which in the local tribal language means “purification hunt”), an anti-Maoist militia made up of young tribal men. But instead of inflicting significant damage on the Maoists, the group ended up isolating the tribal population further after its cadre recklessly killed innocent people and looted and plundered villages, resulting in the displacement of over 150,000 people. Over the years, Mr. Karma had escaped many assassination attempts. But this time, the Maoists got him.

Sanjeev Gupta/European Pressphoto Agency
Wreckage of a vehicle at the site of the Maoist attack on a Congress
Party convoy in Sukma district of Chhattisgarh on Sunday.
But what was really surprising about the attack was the way another Congress leader, Nand Kumar Patel, was targeted. The National Investigation Agency said that according to survivors, the Maoists took Mr. Patel and his son Dinesh hostage after tying their hands, and then shot them in a little forest clearing. The Congress Party general secretary Digvijaya Singh said in a post on his personal blog that the rebels had been looking for Mr. Patel in this particular attack and had not been expecting the presence of Mr. Karma, but he didn’t say where he had gotten this information.

A few days after the killings, however, the Maoists released a statement saying that their main target was Mr. Karma but they also sought to kill Mr. Patel, along with Mr. Karma, because Mr. Patel had been the home minister of Madhya Pradesh, which governed Chhattisgarh at the time he sent paramilitary forces to root out Maoists. They added that Mr. Patel had a “history of suppressing the people.”

But the question is: if that was the case, why was Mr. Patel never the target of such attacks before? Mr. Patel has had no history of rancor with the Maoists. In fact, he was among the few politicians in Chhattisgarh who were not seen as hawkish on the issue of dealing with the Maoists.

While conspiracy theories floated around in the state capital Raipur, Mr. Singh, in the same blog post, raised questions over the killing of Mr. Patel. “Why were they looking for Nand Kumar Patel, who was apparently not a supporter of Salwa Judum and who had been consistently opposing the police atrocities on tribals in Bastar? Why did they kill him and his son?” Mr. Singh asked.

A day after the blog post, the central government minister for tribal affairs, K.C. Singh Deo, alleged that some politicians and corporate houses could be “in tandem” with the Maoists.

While the truth behind Mr. Patel’s killing may take some time to appear, Mr. Deo has some basis for his allegations, since in Maoist areas many local government officials connive with the Maoists to siphon off government funds. In fact, the nexus between politicians and Maoists is quite old. In Andhra Pradesh, where the majority of senior Maoist cadre comes from, politicians have piggybacked to power on Maoist support. In 1982, the popular Telugu actor-turned-politician N.T. Rama Rao won the state’s chief minister post after calling the Maoists “Desh Bhaktalu” (patriots). But once he assumed his position, he went after them.

In 1989, the Congress Party snatched power from him by repeating the same formula: declare Maoists as patriots and use their popularity to win elections. This trend continued for many years.

Courtesy of Rahul Pandita
A Maoist camp on the Maharashtra-Chhattisgarh border in Aug. 2010.
In the Maoist-affected state of Jharkhand, bordering Chhattisgarh, it is widely believed that in many areas, one cannot win an election without shaking hands with the Maoists. In caste-ridden Bihar, 
Maoists have received political patronage for decades.

In the recent times, this murky association has come to fore in West Bengal as well. In a newspaper interview in April 2009, the Maoist leader known as Kishenji admitted that the rebels had sided with the mainstream leftist party, Communist Party of India (Marxist), in 2000 in West Bengal to fight another political party, Trinamool Congress. The guerrilla leader revealed that he had personally collected 5,000 cartridges from the Communist Party office to be used against the Trinamool Congress.

But in 2009, the tide turned. This time, the Maoists turned against the governing party and established liberated zones in the Lalgarh area of the state. This time, they had the support of Trinamool Congress.

In 2011, the Trinamool Congress snatched away West Bengal from the Communists, which had governed the state for more than three decades, and the seats in the Maoist-affected areas played a vital role in that victory. Immediately after winning the elections, the Trinamool chief, Mamata Banerjee, turned against the Maoists, and in November same year, Mr. Kishenji was killed near Lalgarh by security forces. Her own senior party member, Kabir Suman, spilled the beans about her ties with the rebels by writing in his book an account of how Ms. Banerjee had met two senior Maoist leaders.

More recently, the Home Department of the Maharashtra state government has cautioned that Maoist leaders and their supporters may have been elected to panchayats, local village-level governing councils.
The politicians know how to use the Maoists in their areas of influence to their advantage. The Maoists may not believe in democracy, but they know that it is important to keep ties with politicians for short- and long-term gains. In public, both ridicule each other. But sadly, in this nexus, it is the innocent people who ultimately drown in the cesspool this nexus creates.

Rahul Pandita is an author, more recently of “Our Moon Has Blood Clots.” He works with the newsweekly Open. Follow him on Twitter @rahulpandita


Courtesy: New York Times 

5/26/2013

कथाकार मार्कंडेय की विरासत को धो रहे हैं उनके ''अनुज''!

अदृश्‍य घपलों-घोटालों से भरे हिंदी जगत में अमूमन सब कुछ हमेशा आरोप-प्रत्‍यारोप तक ही सीमित रह जाता है। इस बार हालांकि जो घपला हुआ है, वह हिंदी की परंपरा में पुराने किस्‍म का होते हुए भी इस मायने में नया है कि यह प्रतिष्ठित कथाकार मार्कंडेय की पत्रिका ''कथा'' के पुनर्प्रकाशित अंक से जुड़ा है जिसका संपादन युवा कथाकार अनुज कर रहे हैं। मामला युवा पत्रकार-लेखक सुभाष गौतम से दिवंगत अरुण प्रकाश की बातचीत पर आधारित एक पुस्‍तक समीक्षा के प्रकाशन से जुड़ा है। विवाद को समझने के लिए पहले पढ़ें सुभाष गौतम के जनपथ को भेजे पत्र के कुछ अंश: 

सुभाष गौतम 
''अभी हाल में मेरे साथ एक दुर्घटना हुई। मामला तथाकथित कथाकार अनुज (भूटेली) से जुड़ा है जो राज्‍यसभा के किसी विभाग में कलर्क हैं, साथ ही "कथा" पत्रिका के संपादक भी हैं, जिनकी संपादन से ज्‍यादा चेला संस्कृति में रुचि है। मुद्दा यह है कि कथाकार स्व. अरुण प्रकाश जब जीवित थे उस समय मैं उनसे मिलने लगभग रोज़ ही जाता था। अरुण प्रकाश अपने जीवन के अंतिम समय में सांस की बीमारी से लड़ रहे थे। कृत्रिम ऑक्सीजन पर उनका जीवन निर्भर था। उस समय उनकी नज़र भी कमज़ोर हो गई थी। एक दिन उन्होंने कहा कि विश्वनाथ त्रिपाठी की नई पुस्तक "व्योमकेश दरवेश" आई है, पुस्तक मुझे खुद त्रिपाठी जी भेंट किए हैं, मैं इस पर कुछ लिखना चाहता हूं और इसमें तुम्‍हारी मदद की ज़रूरत है। मैं उन्‍हें उस पुस्तक को पढ़ के सुनाता था और वे नोट्स देते। इस प्रकार त्रिपाठी जी की पुस्तक पर लगभग 25 से 30 दिन में "संस्मरण और जीवन का संगम" नाम से एक लेख तैयार हुआ जिसे अरुण प्रकाश के जीवन का अंतिम लेख या रचना कह सकते हैं। जब त्रिपाठी जी की पुस्तक पर लेख तैयार हो गया, तो उन्होंने कहा कि इसमें अपना नाम डाल दो और एक प्रिंट निकाल कर त्रिपाठी जी को पहुंचा दो। उन्‍होंने जैसा कहा, मैंने वैसा ही किया। इस लेख को युवा पत्रकार पुष्पराज जी के द्वारा ''पुस्तक वार्ता'' में भी भेजा गया, जिसे बाद में यह कह कर वापस कर दिया गया कि इस विषय पर किसी और को पहले से लिखने को कहा गया था। उनके मरने के बाद पता चला कि वह लेख "कथा" पत्रिका के लिए कथाकार और संपादक अनुज को त्रिपाठी जी ने यह कह कर दिया है कि यह लेख अरुण प्रकाश का अंतिम लेख है। इसकी जानकारी मिलते ही मैंने "कथा" के सहायक संपादक सुशील कुसमाकर को फोन किया कि वह लेख मैंने बातचीत कर के लिखा है, उसमें मेरा नाम दे दीजिएगा। उन्होंने तब कहा था कि आपका नाम इस लेख में जा रहा है, लेकिन जब लेख छप कर आया तो उसमें मेरा नाम ही नहीं था। मुझे जब इसकी सूचना मिली तो सबसे पहले मैंने विश्वनाथ त्रिपाठी को फोन कर के बताया कि इस प्रकार की गड़बड़ी हुई है। त्रिपाठी जी का कहना था, "लेख मांगते वक्त तो लोग विनम्र बने रहते हैं और संपादन के समय हेकड़ी दिखाते हैं।" त्रिपाठी जी ने यह भी बताया कि अब्दुल बिस्मिल्‍ला के एक पत्र के साथ भी छेड़छाड़ की गई है। मैंने जब अनुज से पूछा तो पहले तो उन्होंने कहा कि सुशील कुसमाकर की गलती है, फिर उनका जबाब था कि मुझे नहीं मालूम। इस प्रकार पत्रिका के संपादक अनुज ने संपादन में हुई गलती के लिए अपने सहयोगी को दोषी ठहराया। जब उनके सहयोगी सुशील कुसमाकर से बात हुई तो उन्होंने कहा कि अनुज जी ने आपका नाम हटाया है क्‍योंकि अंतिम निर्णय अनुज जी का ही होता है। उन्‍होंने बताया कि प्रेस में जाने के पहले तक आपका नाम था।'' 

बताते चलें कि ''कथा' की स्‍थापना 1969 में हुई थी और 2010 तक यह पत्रिका नई कहानी आंदोलन के अग्रणी कथाकार मार्कंडेय के संपादन में निकलती रही। मार्कंडेय जी का 2010 में निधन हो गया, जिसके बाद उनकी दोनों बेटियों ने 2011 में उनके ऊपर एक संस्‍मरण अंक निकाला और फिलहाल पत्रिका का पुनर्प्रकाशन कथाकार अनुज कर रहे हैं। सुभाष गौतम ने उक्‍त विवादित लेख की मूल प्रति जनपथ को भेजी है जिसे हम मूल शीर्षक के साथ जस का तस नीचे छाप रहे हैं। 




संस्‍मरण और जीवनी का संगम 

अरुण प्रकाश
(सुभाष गौतम से बातचीत पर आधारित)  

‘व्योमकेश दरवेश’ की संरचना बहुत दिलचस्प है। आखिरी अध्याय में लेखक के निजी जीवन, साहित्य, चरित्र आदि को जोड़ कर देखने की कोशिश की गई है। इस प्रयास में हजारी प्रसाद द्विवेदी जी के ललित निबंध, कुछ कविताएं भी आ गई हैं। पुस्तक के लेखक विश्वनाथ त्रिपाठी की इस पुस्तक में उपस्थिति इस तरह से पाई जाती है जैसे परिवार का अंतरंग रहा करता है। विश्वनाथ त्रिपाठी ने पुस्तक की संरचना में छेड़छाड़ ही नहीं की है बल्कि अपनी दार्शनिक उड़ानों को भी पुस्तक में जगह दी है। इतना ही नहीं, द्विवेदी जी का व्यक्तित्व ''सर्जना की अथक कार्यशाला था''। विश्वनाथ जी ने लिखा है कि द्विवेदी जी ''प्रायः अपने अंतरयामी की बात करते हैं, जीवनीकार बाह्य स्थितियों में उनके मन पर पड़ने वाले प्रभावों को समझने का प्रयास कर सकता है।'' ''किन्तु उनके अंतरयामी को समझ-परख पाना मेरे बस में नहीं है- अक्षमता का यह बोध इस किताब को लिखते समय बराबर बना रहा।'' अंग्रेजी में ऐसे साहित्य के लिए एक पद का इस्तेमाल किया जाता है- ''पर्सनल लिटरेचर''। हिन्दी में ऐसा नहीं है, इसलिए सुविधाजनक यह होगा कि हम संरचना को निर्धारित स्वरूप देने के लिए जीवनी, आत्मकथा, संस्मरण तथा निबंध का मिश्रण कह सकते हैं।

जो हजारी प्रसाद द्विवेदी के व्यक्तित्व को ऊपरी तौर पर जानते हैं, उनके लिए यह आश्चर्यजनक है कि ज्योतिषशास्त्र का यह विद्वान अंधविश्वासी क्यों नहीं था? मानवतावादी क्यों था। कूपमण्डूक होने के बजाय विश्वदृष्टि से संपन्न क्यों था? इस रहस्य की चाबी शांतिनिकेतन में है। रबींद्रनाथ ठाकुर के आकर्षण से खिंचे-खिंचे देश के चुनिन्दा चित्रकार, मूर्तिकार, भाषावैज्ञानिक, आलोचक, साहित्यकार, नृत्यकार तथा अन्य विषयों की प्रतिभाएं शांतिनिकेतन पहुंच गई थीं। वहां इतनी रोशनी थी कि आत्मा का अंधेरा मिट जाए। रबींद्रनाथ ठाकुर के आधिकारिक जीवनीकार प्रभात कुमार चटर्जी तथा बलराज साहनी के हवाले से काफी सूचना हजारी प्रसाद द्विवेदी के बारे में प्राप्त होती है। ध्यान रहे कि बलराज साहनी तब अध्यापक थे, प्रख्यात अभिनेता तो बाद में बने। शांतिनिकेतन में हिन्दी भवन की स्थापना द्विवेदी जी का प्रमुख कार्य था। हिन्दी भवन को अनूठा बनाने में द्विवेदी जी जी-जान से लगे तो ज्योतिषशास्त्र का ज्ञान धरा का धरा रह गया। शांतिनिकेतन में हजारी प्रसाद द्विवेदी ने भरपूर अध्यापन किया और उनके ज्ञान क्षितिज का अभूतपूर्व विस्तार हुआ। दैनिक नवजीवन के होलीकांक में द्विवेदी जी का एक व्यंग्‍य चित्र था। उसके साथ यह कविता भी प्रकाशित थी: 

बलिया की गोरी मिट्टी ने यह अशोक का फूल उगाया।।
अचरज क्या जब घोर दार्शनिक रस की चरम मूर्ति बन आया।।
अपनी कथा अमर कर डाली बाणभट्ट की गाथा गाकर,
ज्योतिष से क्या जान लिया था निज, भविष्यफल गणित लगाकर।।
शब्द तुम्हारे बने भाव-शर, भाव तुम्हारे यश के केतन,
मन में चिंतन शांति लिए तुम स्वयं बने हो शांतिनिकेतन।।

जैसा कि इस कविता में कहा गया है, ''शब्द तुम्हारे बने भाव-शर, भाव तुम्हारे यश के केतन'', पंडित जी का ज्योतिष छूटा और भविष्य की आशंका की जगह मानसिक शांति मिली। यूं कहते हैं कि पंडित जी कुछ ऊंचे लोगों का ज्योतिषफल जांचा करते थे लेकिन इसमें संदेह यह भी है कि ऐसा मत रखने वाले लोग द्विवेदी जी के विरोधी रहे हैं, वैसे विश्वनाथ त्रिपाठी जी की किताब में फलित-ज्योतिष वाले प्रसंग में कुछ भी नहीं लिखा है। द्विवेदी जी की एक और ऐसी ही पुस्तक है- ''प्राचीन भारत के मनोविनोद'', जिसके बारे में विश्वनाथ त्रिपाठी कोई जिक्र नहीं करते। 

हिंदी में दो रचनाकारों की जीवनी- रामविलास शर्मा कृत ''निराला की साहित्य साधना'' तथा अमृतराय कृत ''कलम का सिपाही -प्रेमचंद'' ऐसी ही मानक पुस्तकें रहीं हैं जिनसे आनायास ही इस पुस्तक की तुलना करने को मन हो उठेगा। जाहिर है दोनों की संरचना में रचनाकार का जीवन तथा उनकी रचनाशीलता का विश्लेषण किया गया है। एक प्रकार से देखें तो इसमें जीवनी और आलोचना का मेल है। त्रिपाठी जी की पुस्तक में भी यह मेल साफ-साफ दिखता है परंतु अतिरिक्त रूप से त्रिपाठी जी का स्वयं का जीवन भी इस पुस्तक से झांकता है और यह ताक-झांक छूटा नहीं है बल्कि सुदीर्घ है। इसलिए इस पुस्तक को त्रिपाठी जी ने स्वयं संस्मरण कहा है। स्वाभाविक ढांचा जीवनी और आलोचना का है और त्रिपाठी जी की आत्मकथात्मक टीका-टिप्पणी सुमेलित नहीं रह पाती हैं।

हजारी प्रसाद द्विवेदी की आलोचना रंजक है, वे शास्त्रीय ज्ञान को और गाढ़ा नहीं करते बल्कि उसे पतला करते हैं ताकि सामान्य पाठक वर्ग उसका आनंद ले सके। विष्णुचन्द्र शर्मा द्वारा संपादित ''कवि'' नाम की पत्रिका में द्विवेदी जी ने भवानी प्रसाद मिश्र पर एक समीक्षा लिखी जिसमें कहा कि कविता को देखने में पद और पढ़ने में कविता होना चाहिए। अदभुत वक्ता और शिक्षक थे द्विवेदी जी- इस प्रसंग में विश्वनाथ जी ने ऐसा सटीक लिखा है- ''आचार्य हजारी प्रसाद द्विवेदी क्लास में वैसा ही पढ़ाते जैसा सभाओं में भाषण देते थे। वे हमें कबीर, पद्मावत, कीर्तिलता और रासो पढ़ाते, क्लास में हम प्रबुद्ध सजग बने रहते, धरती पर ही रहते द्विवेदी जी के क्लास में साहित्य-लोक में पहुंच जाते, ज्ञान रस बन जाता, ज्ञान की साधना और सेवा दोनों की प्रेरणा मिलती।''

यह पंडित जी का रचना-छल है कि वे पाठक को जययात्रा, मंगल्य, छंद, लय से मोहित कर देते हैं। उदास होना भी बेकार है सो उन्हें कबीर दास याद है। द्विवेदी जी के गद्य की प्रशंसा हिन्दी वाले ही नहीं दूसरे भी करते थे। त्रिपाठी जी ने अपने हवाले से कहा है- ''उनके जैसा गद्य लेखक इस समय हिन्दी में दूसरा नहीं है।''

विश्‍वनाथ त्रिपाठी 
द्विवेदी जी अपने भोजपुरी समाज और भाषा की अभिव्यक्तियों को निस्संकोच हिंदी में ले आते थे। ऐसा ही एक स्‍वभावगत गुण है ''मुहदूबरपन''। अब संकोचपन के लिए मुहदूबरपन से सटीक कुछ नहीं हो सकता। इस तरह की विशिष्टताएं उनके निबंधों में खूब मिलती हैं, उपन्यासों में भी हैं। द्विवेदी जी पर दूसरी रचनाओं का असर है लेकिन वह इतना कम है कि न के बराबर है। यानी वे दूसरों की खूबियों का आत्मसातीकरण करते हैं। आधुनिकतावाद का आत्मसातीकरण जिस तरह से ‘अनामदास का पोथा’ में हुआ है ऐसे उदाहरण विरल हैं। एक तरह से यह पुस्तक और विशिष्ट है कि वह रामचंद्र शुक्ल से भिन्न है। शुक्ल जी में यदा-कदा ब्राह्मणवाद झांकने लगता है। वहीं हजारी प्रसाद द्विवेदी ने लिखा है- ''और दलितों में भी दलित-नारी इतिहास की प्रत्येक शोषक व्यवस्था में सर्वाधिक शोषित-नारी।'' द्विवेदी जी के यहां नारी एक ओर सौन्दर्य-समृद्धि का प्रतीक है तो दूसरी ओर करुणा की मूर्ति। गरीब तो पुरूष भी होते हैं और नारी भी। रोग भी दोनों के हिस्से में हैं। लेकिन काया का विधान ऐसा है कि शरीर सम्पर्क का परिणाम नारी को भोगना पड़ता है। इस भेद का नाजायज़ फायदा उठाकर पितृसत्तात्मक व्यवस्था ने भिन्नता को असमानता में परिवर्तित कर दिया है। इस विषय में एक सोवियत समाजशास्त्री ने मार्के की बात कही थी- ''गर्भ निरोधक उपकरणों के कारण यह संभव हुआ है कि नारी इतिहास में पहली बार काम-क्रीड़ा में समतुल्य भाग ले सकती है।'' हरिशंकर परसाई ने तो यहां तक कहा कि नारियों को संकल्प लेकर कुछ दिनों के लिए पुरुष-सम्पर्क बन्द कर देना चाहिए। फिर प्रजनन के लिए प्रकृति को कोई अन्य रास्ता बनाना पड़ेगा। ठेठ नारीवादी बात... ऐसी नारीवादी बात कि कोई नारीवादी ऐसा अब तक नहीं कर सका है। 

हिंदी में यह श्रेष्ठ कृति अपनी आत्मीयता और विचारशीलता के संगम के लिए वर्षों तक याद की जाएगी। हिंदी में जीवनी का अकाल पड़ा रहता है। अनेक बड़े रचनाकार प्रतीक्षित हैं। अनगिनत बडे़ राष्ट्रीय व्यक्तित्व हैं जिनकी जीवनी मूल में छोड़िए, अनुवाद तक में नहीं है। ऐसे में हिंदी में यह श्रेष्ठ कृति अपनी आत्मीयता और विचारशीलता के संगम और लोकप्रिय स्वरूप के लिए लोकप्रिय सिद्ध होगी और वर्षों याद की जाएगी।

5/22/2013

The inconvenient truth of a convenient profile: ADAG legal notice to the Caravan

In April 29th issue of the Caravan, India's first narrative journalism magazine published by Delhi Press Group, there was a marvellous profile of India's Attorney General Ghoolam Vahanwati as usual (remember the profile of Arindam Chaudhary and Kapil Sibbal?). It was the first case as far as the memory goes that the legal notice was served in the pre-production stage only trying to stall its publication, nevertheless the editors continued with it. The Hoot has reported on the issue and we are taking it here as it is. If the main story could attract legal consequences, so must be the case with its republication and link, as it goes. 

Some Questions and Answers on a Tycoon, a Law Officer and an Editor

Legal notice by ADAG counsel to the Caravan

Question: What is the nature of the relationship between one of India's richest men and the country's top legal officer?
Answer: Good friends.
Question: Can legal notices be deployed to prevent a publication from coming out with an article even before it is published?
Answer: Such attempts are indeed made but these are not always successful, since not all editors and publishers are easily intimidated or buckle under pressure.
Question: Are the above two questions related?
Answer: Yes.
Question: Who is among the richest men in India?
Answer: Anil Ambani, head of the Anil Dhirubhai Ambani Group (ADAG) which, according to its website, is "among India’s top three private sector business houses on all major financial parameters, with assets in excess of Rs 180,000 crore and net worth to the tune of Rs.89,000 crore... the group has a customer base of over 100 million, the largest in India, and a shareholder base of over 12 million, among the largest in the world... the group touches the life of one in ten Indians every single day (and) has a business presence that extends to over 20,000 towns... 4.5 lakh villages in India and five continents across the world. The interests of the group range from communications...and financial services...to generation, transmission and distribution of power... infrastructure and entertainment". The group employs over 100,000 people.
Question: Who is the country's top law officer?
Answer: Attorney General of India Goolamhussein Essaji Vahanvati. The AG is the government of India's chief legal adviser who is appointed by the President under Article 76(1) of the Constitution and must be a person who is qualified to serve as a judge of the Supreme Court. The AG is responsible for giving legal advice to the government; he has the right of audience in all courts of India and has the right to participate in the proceedings of Parliament, though not vote. He appears on behalf of the government in all cases (including suits, appeals and other proceedings) in the Supreme Court. The AG can accept briefs but cannot appear against the government, defend an accused in criminal proceedings or accept the directorship of a company without the government's permission. Unlike the AG in the United States (who holds a position akin to that of the Union Law Minister in this country), the AG in India is not supposed to be a political appointee. However, this is not the case in actual practice. Every time a new government comes to power, all old law officers resign and new ones are appointed.
Question: Who served the legal notices?
Answer: Agarwal Law Associates, a Delhi-based firm of Supreme Court advocates (E.C. Agrawala, Mahesh Agarwal, Rishi Agrawala and Atul Sharma), whose clients include the ADAG led by Anil Ambani.
Question: On whom were the legal notices served?
Answer: The editor of the Caravan, an English monthly magazine published by Delhi Press Patra Prakashan. The magazine is edited, printed and published by Paresh Nath; its editor is his son Anant Nath and its executive editor is Vinod K. Jose.
It was the last fortnight of April and the editorial team of Caravan, which describes itself as a "journal of politics and culture" and argues that it is among the few -- if not the only -- English magazine of its kind in India that practices long-form journalism New Yorker-style, was putting together the May issue of the publication. It had been decided that the cover story would be on the country's 13th AG Vahanvati who, at that juncture, had still not acquired the kind of notoriety he subsequently did in the Coalgate scandal that led to the resignation of Law Minister Ashwani Kumar.
Nevertheless, AG Vahanvati had become quite controversial for the advice he had given to the Manmohan Singh government on various legal issues as well as his personal role in the second-generation (2G) telecommunications spectrum allocation scam which led to a public spat with the disgraced former Communications Minister Andimuthu Raja. The cover story on Vashanvati was being written by Caravan's young staff writer Krishn Kaushik who had spent a few months speaking to various people who knew Vahanvati. He had interviewed the AG himself as well as his son, not to mention some of his friends, critics and associates.
Even as the cover story, which had been allotted all of 15 pages in the magazine, was being given finishing touches, a letter arrived on the desk of the editor. It was a terse two-page legal notice dated 18 April from Agarwal Law Associates signed by Mahesh Agarwal. After expressing "concern" for our clients, the ADAG headed by Anil Ambani, the notice stated the following in its third paragraph:
"Our clients are shocked to know that your magazine is proposing to publish an article with the sole intention of causing malicious harm and injury. Several individuals have called our clients (sic) that they have been approached by your reporters to gather information about our clients' businesses. The tone, tenor and nature of the queries raised and information sought leaves no room for doubt that you have embarked on a vilification campaign of disinformation to cause damage and harm to our clients' business and reputation. It is evident that you are preparing to publish defamatory information concerning our clients' business. It is furthermore surprising that there has been no formal communication from your publication soliciting responses/clarifications from our clients regarding any comments you propose to make about them in your article."
Mahesh Agarwal's letter to the editor of Caravan urged him to note that the ADAG had given the law firm "peremptory instructions to lodge legal proceedings, both civil and criminal, in the event of your publishing any news or article or material that concerns our clients and is defamatory and/or malicious".
Even as lawyers engaged by the Delhi Press management were debating and discussing their future course of action, specifically, what kind of response should be given to the legal notice, another letter arrived from Agarwal Law Associates dated 22 April seeking compliance with the claims made in the letter dated four days earlier. Four days later, yet another letter dated 26 April was despatched to the editor and publisher of Caravan.
The top management of Delhi Press was apparently not particularly perturbed. The magazine had earlier (in 2011) been served a notice by a Silchar, Assam-based civil court judge on a complaint from the Indian Institute of Planning and Management headed by Arindam Chaudhuri, which was subsequently stayed by the Supreme Court. In this instance, the complainant had objected to his profile after it had been published in the magazine.
They went ahead with the story. On 29 April, the May issue of Caravan hit the news-stands in Delhi. That day itself, the cover story on Vahanvati was made available to readers on the magazine's website (http://caravanmagazine.in/reportage/inside-man). By then, the story had become topical as the AG's role in the Coalgate scandal had started hitting the headlines in newspapers and television channels every day.
Here are a few short excerpts from the five-part cover story -- entitled "Inside Man: The Convenient Opinions of Attorney General Goolam Vahanvati" -- that runs into nearly 11,000 words. These excerpts make it quite clear why attempts were made to stall its publication:
"A few days after Vahanvati’s promotion in June 2009, the well-connected journalist Prabhu Chawla, now the editor of the New Indian Express, told the lobbyist Niira Radia that Vahanvati was “an old friend of mine” during a taped phone conversation. “He is very close to Anil Ambani, everyone knows about it,” Chawla continued. “Anil Ambani, Nusli Wadia, and our power minister—kyaa naam hai? –Shinde, they all went for him for the appointment. Anil Ambani, Nusli Wadia, and our power minister—kya naam hai?—Shinde, they all went for him for the appointment. Bhardwaj never liked him. Bhardwaj would not have made him the attorney general agar Bhardwaj law minister hotaa (if he was still law (Governor of Karnataka and former Union Law Minister Hans Raj) Bhardwaj never liked him. Bhardwaj would not have made him the attorney general agar Bhardwaj law minister hotaa (if he was still law minister).” (When contacted for a comment, Chawla said Vahanvati was a friend, and declined to be interviewed for this story.)
"A close associate of Anil Ambani acknowledged Ambani's friendship with Vahanvati, but insisted that the two men were not unusually close, and that their acquaintance was of relatively recent vintage—after Vahanvati came to Delhi. Ambani, this person argued, naturally had dealings with many powerful people in government, and had only come to know Vahanvati through Ahmed Patel; Vahanvati, he said, was close with other corporate leaders as well—closer, this person said, than he was to Ambani.
...............
"When Anil Ambani’s name came up—as it inevitably did—in my conversation with Prashant Bhushan, he argued that Vahanvati should have recused himself from any matters involving Ambani or his companies. “Vahanvati told me himself that he is a close friend of Anil Ambani,” Bhushan said. He pointed out that Vahanvati continued to give opinions, or appear on behalf of the government, in cases where Ambani’s interests were at stake. “That, itself, is a conflict of interest.”
...........
"Whatever the nature of Vahanvati’s relationship with Anil Ambani, there are at least two cases where Vahanvati authored opinions pertaining directly to Ambani’s companies. In these cases, his opinions were both controversial and beneficial to Ambani’s interests. The first of these concerned one of the companies implicated in the 2G scandal, Swan Telecom; Vahanvati’s opinion forestalled an investigation into the company’s ownership patterns, though the CBI later determined it had been set up as a front company for Ambani’s Reliance Communications." The second case pertained to the ultra-mega power plant being set up in Sasan, Madhya Pradesh, by Reliance Power.

When contacted by this correspondent, Anant Nath, editor, Caravan, declined comment on the episode.

Courtesy: The Hoot


The Man, The Profile 




| ONE |

IN THE COSMOS of the Indian establishment, the Supreme Court is a central galaxy. Its brightest stars, the senior advocates, can be seen gliding across the plaza outside the chief justice’s courtroom with an imperial hauteur, in their distinctive robes and “monkey suits” (as lawyers call the waistcoat worn by judges and seniors of the bar). Around each of these seniors orbits a small entourage: not only an assistant (usually carrying phones and bags), but three or four juniors, along with one or more independent advocates—lawyers who have not yet attained seniority, and work with the seniors on a case-by-case basis.
In an era when fortunes can be made and lost on the whims of government policy (or the manipulation thereof), billions of rupees hinge on the decisions of the Supreme Court, which has become the ultimate arbiter in innumerable disputes between corporates and the state. Today, the country’s top lawyers, who charge upwards of Rs 10 lakh (Rs 1 million) for a single court appearance, are some of the capital’s most powerful figures, Delhi’s closest equivalent to the Wall Street investment bankers that Tom Wolfe once dubbed “masters of the universe”.
It is not uncommon for these stars to quietly fade, due to age or exhaustion. But it is a rare sight when one of the masters gets pulled down to earth, even if briefly, by scandal or misfortune—a spectacle that draws rapt attention from the merchants in Delhi’s power mandi.
When the spectacle involves not just any top lawyer, but the master of the masters—the Attorney General for India, the legal custodian of the public interest of 1.2 billion people, who occupies a constitutional position designed to stand above the petty intrigues of politicians and corporates alike—it is a matter of grave concern that stretches far beyond the capital, for what falls is not just the man but the office.
So on 27 February, all eyes were turned toward an otherwise unremarkable courtroom in Delhi’s Patiala House, where Goolamhussein Essaji Vahanvati was appearing before a Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) special court. Vahanvati, the thirteenth Attorney General for India—the Union Government’s top law officer, with an office on the second floor of the Supreme Court and the right to an audience in any court in the country—was not arguing before the bench. He was standing in the witness box, answering questions about his role in what was, at least for a time, the country’s biggest scandal—the fraudulent allocation of 2G cellular spectrum. It was the first time in India’s history that the country’s attorney general had deposed as a witness in a trial court.
Over the course of two days, Sushil Kumar, the defence lawyer for the prime accused in the 2G scam, former communications minister Andimuthu Raja, peppered Vahanvati with questions. In his cross-examination, Kumar intended to demonstrate that Raja had sought and received the approval of Vahanvati, who was then the solicitor general, while making the decisions that investigators alleged were at the heart of the scam.
The file outlining the revisions to license allocation procedures had been sent to Vahanvati for his signature three days before the contested licenses were issued, and Raja had argued that Vahanvati’s opinion gave legal sanction to his policies, though the law ministry had earlier declined to grant that approval. Furthermore, Kumar argued, Raja had consulted with Vahanvati as he formulated a new process for the awarding of licenses, suggesting that Vahanvati, who was promoted to attorney general in 2009, had been well aware of the decisions that were now being characterised as a scam.
Claims of this sort—that others in the government knew exactly what he was doing—form the backbone of Raja’s defence, which maintains that he has been unfairly prosecuted for decisions that the cabinet had not seen fit to overrule. But Raja contends that Vahanvati’s role was even more significant: Prime Minister Manmohan Singh and other members of the cabinet had discussed these issues, and even seen files outlining the plans, but it was Vahanvati, Raja says, who gave legal imprimatur to the policy.
While Vahanvati stood uncomfortably in the witness box, parrying Kumar’s questions with careful replies, Raja made a display of his disagreement. At one point, near the end of the first day of questioning, Raja interjected in a voice loud enough to be heard by all of the 60 or so people inside the courtroom, exclaiming, “He is telling all the lies and I am the one going to jail.” Vahanvati, who had thus far avoided looking at Raja, turned toward him with obvious indignation, in disbelief that the tarnished minister would say such a thing in court.
There was more at stake for Vahanvati than mere embarrassment: the judge in the case, OP Saini, had the capacity to add Vahanvati to the list of accused if his testimony suggested a deeper involvement or complicity with Raja’s actions. But even Kumar, Raja’s lawyer, admitted this was not likely, and after two days in the witness box, Vahanvati was excused. He had managed to avoid any obvious missteps, and consistently depicted his role in the scandal as that of a minor bystander, whose legal opinions had been confined to narrowly drawn procedural questions.
Still, his appearance before the CBI special court marked a low point in his tenure as a law officer of the Union government, which has not been without its share of controversy. While much attention has been paid to the 2G scam, and thus to the role Vahanvati played, it is not the only case in which his opinions may have lent legitimacy to questionable decisions. In recent weeks, his name has surfaced in news reports as one of the government officials involved in watering down a CBI status report in the coal allocation scandal; in several other matters, Vahanvati has been accused of tailoring his interpretations of the law for the benefit of influential corporate houses.
Vahanvati is not the first attorney general to find himself mixed up in the messy partisan work of the government he serves; many Supreme Court advocates lamented that the independence of the government’s law officers had been corroded by political pressure over the past three decades. But Vahanvati has been more controversial than his predecessors, and not only because this government has been beset by allegations of spectacular corruption.
Over the past four months, while I was conducting interviews with Vahanvati’s friends and associates, fellow senior advocates, and Delhi’s corps of fixers and lobbyists—who occupy the intersection of government, business, media and law—the attorney general was rarely out of the news, and the news he was in was rarely good. One of his colleagues told me, admiringly, that Vahanvati was a man with “quick solutions to complex problems of law”; this makes him invaluable for a government whose trysts are mostly with crisis. But even feats of legal agility can’t keep an incorrigible client out of trouble forever, and eventually the lawyer is left holding the bill.
BEFORE HE WAS APPOINTED as the Union government’s solicitor general in 2004, at the start of the first United Progressive Alliance (UPA) term, Vahanvati had been the advocate general of Maharashtra, a position to which he rose after almost three decades arguing before the Bombay High Court. “Every lawyer’s dream is to practice in the Supreme Court,” Vahanvati told me when I met him in January. “Earlier I had been coming to Delhi a lot, but I had never had a sustained exposure to Delhi. This was a great change in my life.”
In person, Vahanvati is unfailingly polite and courteous, almost to the point of primness. During our only meeting, at his official residence on Delhi’s Motilal Nehru Marg—next to the Taj Mahal Hotel—he spoke so quietly and calmly that I could have heard a caterpillar crawling across his meticulously organised desk.
At one point in our conversation, which lasted about an hour, he produced a small red diary, about six inches by three inches, inside which he had noted, in small and careful handwriting, citations of past decisions, important cases, and legal arguments. It was, he explained, one of the diaries he had carried in his pocket during his early years at the Bombay bar. Back then, he said, junior lawyers spent hours and hours sneezing over dusty volumes of old case law. “One sentence would come out after three to four hours of research,” he said, adding that today’s juniors don’t understand how to properly draft their briefs. “Now,” he sighed, “everything comes readymade. But I always tell my juniors that unless you research yourself, you will never really improve as a lawyer.”
His friends and critics alike concur that he is a relentless worker, obsessively concerned with details and diligent in his preparation. Janak Dwarkadas, a senior advocate at the Bombay High Court and a friend of Vahanvati, said he always had “complete mastery over the facts” of the case at hand. “He has all three qualities needed to be a competent lawyer,” Dwarkadas said. “Excellent memory, excellent command over facts and law, and an excellent ability to put his point across to the court.”
After becoming a senior at the bar in 1990, Dwarkadas told me, Vahanvati was involved “in every single significant case” at the Bombay High Court. “Don’t quote me on this, because it will make me sound foolish,” one of Vahanvati’s close friends, a Supreme Court advocate, told me, “but if there is a genius at the bar today, it is Vahanvati.”
Harish Salve, one of the country’s most prominent lawyers, and a former solicitor general, has known Vahanvati for 30 years. The attorney general has “a very sweet, very understated and gentle style” in the courtroom, Salve said. “He is definitely a fine lawyer."
“When you are a law officer,” former solicitor general Gopal Subramaniam told me, “you have a relationship with the state, as it is your client, but you are also an officer of the law: you have to promote the law, and the rule of law.” The government’s law officers—the attorney general, solicitor general, and the additional solicitors general—have always been political appointments. But they are expected to give independent legal advice to the government they serve, even while they represent that government before the courts. “If you have a government that believes in you and has faith in you,” Salve said, “you can tell them, ‘Look, if you do this, it won’t look nice.’ And they will say, ‘OK, we won’t do it.’” As the attorney general or the solicitor general, Salve said, “you’re really the conscience-keeper of the government.”
But the government must first decide whether it wants honest advice, or merely legal ingenuity. “Independent advice from a good law officer can mitigate the number of legal cases against the government,” one senior Supreme Court advocate told me. But too often, he said, “their opinions are now used to provide a legal sanction to policies that are in a gray area.”
This, in essence, is the case made by Vahanvati’s detractors: that as the solicitor general, and then the attorney general, he has more often done what the government asks than what the law requires. One former law officer, who worked under both Vahanvati and the previous attorney general, Milon Banerji, told me that while Vahanvati “might have a better knowledge of the law” than his predecessor, “Banerji had greater integrity and dignity.”
Prashant Bhushan, the activist lawyer and Aam Aadmi Party leader, who is involved in several lawsuits related to the 2G scandal, said Vahanvati was “a competent and intelligent lawyer-—smooth in his working style and quite effective in court.” But Bhushan charged that Vahanvati’s opinions in several cases showed he was “willing to give convenient advice, suiting a minister or ministers, who use it as a cover for all their dubious dealings, just as Raja did.”
“A convenient attorney general is very useful to the government,” Bhushan said. “And therefore they go all out to protect him.” One corporate lobbyist who knows Vahanvati suggested a similar, if more dismissive, summary of his role: “He’s the government’s alibi.”
After arriving in Delhi in 2004 as an outsider, Vahanvati rapidly learnt to negotiate the city’s networks of power. Few expected that he would succeed Banerji as attorney general in 2009. The consensus was that the job would go to Gopal Subramaniam, then an additional solicitor general, who was a favourite of both Banerji and the then law minister, HR Bhardwaj, and also close to the Gandhi family. But after Bhardwaj was replaced as law minister, Vahanvati was given the post.
“Within a few years he understood the power structure and made key contacts,” the law officer who worked under Banerji and Vahanvati told me. One of these is Ahmed Patel, the political secretary to Congress president Sonia Gandhi. Patel, whose name is whispered with reverence in off-the-record Delhi, was consistently described by people who know Vahanvati as his most powerful ally in the capital. “Of course he knows how to navigate Delhi now,” Vahanvati’s friend, the advocate, responded when I asked him about the attorney general’s political savvy. “I told you: he’s a genius.”
But before he came close to Patel, Vahanvati already had a powerful friend in Anil Ambani—whose name came up immediately when I mentioned to any senior lawyer that I was reporting a profile of the attorney general. It’s not clear when Vahanvati first met Ambani, but dozens of people testified to their friendship, which dates back to Vahanvati’s time in Mumbai. Another law officer who worked with Vahanvati described him as “very close” to Ambani, while a senior bureaucrat who worked under Finance Minister P Chidambaram told me that Ambani and Vahanvati had often come together to have lunch with Chidambaram.
For all his proximity to power, the soft-spoken Vahanvati keeps a low profile and attracts very little public attention. “He’s the kind of guy you could pass by without noticing,” another lobbyist said. But Vahanvati occupies a critical junction in the capital’s circuits of influence: almost every controversial matter—the policies and decisions that later get challenged in court, disputed by ministries, or probed by the CBI—will likely pass through the attorney general’s office before it’s resolved.

| TWO |
VAHANVATI BEGAN HIS LEGAL CAREER at the Bombay High Court in 1972, as a junior to his father, Essabhoy Gulamhusein Vahanvati. “I was in great awe of my father,” Vahanvati told me. “Ever since I was a kid, I always wanted to be a lawyer.”
Vahanvati said that his paternal great-grandfather had been a builder of wooden ships—hence the family name: ‘vahan’, in Gujarati, is a ship. “That probably explains why my mind is so wooden,” he quipped. His grandfather had subsequently made a great fortune in the shipping business—in part as an agent for British merchant companies in Mumbai—but “lost all of his money” during the Great Depression.
The senior Vahanvati joined the bar in 1943, six years before Goolam was born. “My father was an extremely honest man,” Vahanvati told me. “No judge ever asked him to justify a statement which he made in court.” Rafique Dada, who served as a junior to Essabhoy in the early 1970s, remembered him as an honest lawyer and a “great raconteur” who was “one of the most loved members of the bar.” After the court had adjourned for the day, Dada said, the lawyers would congregate in the library, where Vahanvati “was so popular that many people gathered only to listen to him.”
In 1975, when Vahanvati was only 26, his father died of an ulcer. “He died very suddenly,” Vahanvati said. “He was very young, and my life changed. I just had to put my head down and work. I worked 18 hours a day.” Dada remembered the young Vahanvati as “carefree, but very sharp”, and “an outstanding lawyer”. Dinyar Madon, who was among Vahanvati’s first juniors in the early 1980s, recalled that he used to get “60 to 70 matters each day”, and worked longer hours than anyone else in the office.
Vahanvati told me that his father’s early death had served as a motivation to succeed. “Can I be honest with you?” he said. “Basically, I felt always that my father didn’t deserve to die so young. There was always a feeling that I have to bring out his name. It’s very difficult for me to describe, but that was my driving force.”
Vahanvati took pains to emphasise that he had little interest in personal enrichment. “I am not a money-minded person,” he told me. “What can you do with money? If money is all you want, then don’t be a law officer.” He recounted a scene from the Supreme Court, where other senior advocates were showing off their pricey watches. “I said, ‘You guys are wearing on your wrists more than what I can earn in a month.’” While the desks of senior advocates are typically littered with Montblancs and other luxury pens, Vahanvati called my attention to the compulsively neat row of perfectly aligned pens and pencils on his table. “Look at my pens,” he said. “All of them are presents, and they are all cheap highlighters and little things that keep me going.” Later I was told by both Vahanvati’s son, Essaji, and one of his good friends, the lawyer Raian Karanjawala, that he had “an impressive collection” of expensive writing instruments, suggesting that he might have slightly exaggerated his indifference to material possessions.
(At the end of our interview in January, I suggested to Vahanvati that we should meet again, and he agreed. But he declined all subsequent requests for an interview, including more than 10 attempts to contact him for comment in the three weeks prior to publication.)
“He doesn’t call himself a Delhi person,” Vahanvati’s son told me. “He comes back to Mumbai during every vacation.” In Mumbai, Vahanvati owns one house, which he has given to his son, and rents three apartments in a building called Joyeden, a block from the Taj Hotel in Colaba. (According to the trust that governs the building, the rent for two of these apartments is only Rs 490 per month, while the third rents for Rs 64.) In the 1990s, before he became advocate general, Vahanvati sold an apartment he owned in Pune, and bought a two-acre plot outside the city; in 2003, he purchased two adjacent acres. Janak Dwarkadas, who worked with Vahanvati on many occasions, lives in a farmhouse next door to Vahanvati’s property. He described it as “like a seven-star resort”, mentioning a stream that runs across the land, two bungalows, Jersey cows, sheep, and plants and trees from around the world. “He’s a collector by nature,” Dwarkadas said, and recalled walking around the property with Vahanvati, who “knew the name and details of every tree.”
AT THE END OF 1999, Vahanvati said, he received an unexpected call from Vilasrao Deshmukh, the newly elected Congress chief minister of Maharashtra, offering him the post of advocate general. Vahanvati told me that he didn’t know Deshmukh, but “he had heard about me.” At that point, according to Dwarkadas, Vahanvati was one of Mumbai’s top advocates. “He had a flourishing writ court practice and a good commercial practice, which catapulted him to the advocate general’s post,” Dwarkadas said.
One of Vahanvati’s good friends in Delhi told me that Vahanvati had called him shortly after the Maharashtra elections in 1999. Vahanvati said he was being considered for the advocate general’s post and asked his friend, who was close to senior Congress leader Madhavrao Scindia, then the party’s in-charge for Maharashtra, to recommend him. “I was holidaying in Rajasthan, I remember, and he called me and said can you talk to Madhavrao Scindia. I spoke to Scindia and told him that if you’re considering Vahanvati, he will be a good choice.”
Before becoming the state’s advocate general, Vahanvati had already become friendly with Sharad Pawar, whose Nationalist Congress Party was Deshmukh’s coalition partner. In the mid-1990s, Vahanvati told me, Pawar had been fighting a defamation case against a newspaper that alleged he had ties to the Mumbai underworld. Vahanvati had often worked with JN Gagrat, who was Pawar's lawyer, and when he heard about the case from Gagrat, he volunteered to approach the newspaper himself and settle the controversy. “Without going to the court, I spoke to the newspaper. I said, ‘This is wrong, what you’ve done, there is already an injunction.’ So they apologised. I came to know him briefly then.” As advocate general, Vahanvati represented the Maharashtra State Electricity Board in the state’s long-running tussle with the American energy company Enron, whose involvement in the Dabhol power project was the single largest foreign direct investment in India at the time, and the subject of massive controversy, much of it centred around Pawar. Later on, Vahanvati appeared several times for Pawar in a case against the Board of Cricket Control in India, which Pawar headed from 2005 to 2008.
A solicitor from Mumbai who has known Vahanvati for several decades told me that he once confessed that it had been his dream as a child to be driven around in an official car with a red beacon—a status symbol not accorded to state advocates general. His chance arrived when the UPA government came to power in 2004; at that point Vahanvati had been an advocate general for four years, under Deshmukh and his successor, Sushil Kumar Shinde, who now serves as the Union home minister.
Many senior advocates in Mumbai told me that Vahanvati was a top legal mind, whose skills as a lawyer made him an obvious choice as solicitor general. In Delhi, however, opinions were less kind—or more cynical—and many people told me there had been substantial lobbying behind Vahanvati’s appointment. A person close to Bhardwaj said he was only concerned that Milon Banerji be made the attorney general, and had no opinion about who should be selected as solicitor general. According to this person, “a Mumbai corporate lobby” had pushed to have Vahanvati appointed.
Many people told me that Bhardwaj was not fond of Vahanvati, and had argued against his appointment as attorney general in 2009. “Bhardwaj thought Vahanvati lacked the stature at the bar” that was required of an attorney general, the former law officer who worked under Banerji and Vahanvati told me. A senior Congress member of parliament, who said “Bhardwaj couldn’t stand Vahanvati”, told me that Pawar and Shinde had influenced the decision to promote Vahanvati, which took place only after Bhardwaj was replaced at the law ministry by Veerappa Moily. (Bhardwaj, who is now the governor of Karnataka, did not respond to multiple requests for comment.)
A few days after Vahanvati’s promotion in June 2009, the well-connected journalist Prabhu Chawla, now the editor of the New Indian Express, told the lobbyist Niira Radia that Vahanvati was “an old friend of mine” during a taped phone conversation. “He is very close to Anil Ambani, everyone knows about it,” Chawla continued. “Anil Ambani, Nusli Wadia, and our power minister—kya naam hai?—Shinde, they all went for him for the appointment. Bhardwaj never liked him. Bhardwaj would not have made him the attorney general agar Bhardwaj law minister hotaa (if he was still law minister).” (When contacted for comment, Chawla said Vahanvati was a friend, and declined to be interviewed for this story.)
A close associate of Anil Ambani acknowledged Ambani's friendship with Vahanvati, but insisted that the two men were not unusually close, and that their acquaintance was of relatively recent vintage—after Vahanvati came to Delhi. Ambani, this person argued, naturally had dealings with many powerful people in government, and had only come to know Vahanvati through Ahmed Patel; Vahanvati, he said, was close with other corporate leaders as well—closer, this person said, than he was to Ambani.
| THREE |
ON THE WINTRY MORNING of 28 January 1950, the first chief justice of India, along with the chief justices of 14 high courts, the advocates general of eight states, the prime minister and other cabinet ministers, and a handful of diplomats and foreign envoys, gathered in what was then called the Chamber of Princes in the Parliament building. (The hall is now used as a library.) The proceedings commenced with a speech by Motilal Setalvad, the first Attorney General for India, who had assumed his post two days earlier when the Constitution came into force.
“The writ of this court will run over a territory extending to over 2 million square miles, inhabited by a population of about 330 million,” Setalvad said. “It can truly be said that the jurisdiction and powers of this court, in their nature and extent, are wider than those exercised by the highest court of any county in the Commonwealth or by the Supreme Court of the United States.” His address, which lasted only a few minutes, marked the inauguration of the Supreme Court of India.
Though the attorney general rarely makes headlines, it would be hard to overstate the significance of the position—it is, as Gopal Subramaniam told me, “one of the most important constitutional posts in India.” The Constitution specifically mentions that the president must select for the post a person “qualified to be appointed a Judge of the Supreme Court”. Therefore, Subramaniam said, the attorney general “must be a man of such fearless character, equivalent to that of a judge—with the ability to give fearless advice to government, to the Parliament, to the judiciary.” The same qualities are sought in the solicitor general, he said, “to be equally independent of the executive.”
Neither the attorney general nor the solicitor general have fixed tenures; they serve as long as they have “the pleasure of the President”, which means they can be replaced whenever the government wishes. Salve said that while the law officers are political appointments, that does not mean that they are not expected to “rise above their brief”.
“It is a position of great responsibility,” said PP Rao, a senior Supreme Court advocate. “It requires independence, ability, and integrity.” Rao and Subramaniam both praised the first four men to occupy the office, from Setalvad through SV Gupte, whose tenure ended in 1979. They were, Rao said, “men of absolute independence”, but “thereafter, things have been different.” Since then, Rao said, “political considerations prevailed” within the government, and persons with what Rao called a “servile mindset” had been appointed. “You cannot afford to have a pliable person there,” Rao said, “or the very objective of the office is defeated.”
IN LATE FEBRUARY, a day before Vahanvati’s deposition in the 2G special court, I met his son, Essaji Vahanvati, in Mumbai. Essaji, named after his grandfather, is a partner at one of the country’s top firms, AZB Partners, and looks about a decade younger than his 33 years. It was the first of our two meetings, both at his firm’s offices in the Express Towers at Nariman Point. We sat in a conference room named “Sycamore” and looked out over an impressive view of the sea. Essaji described his father as “an extremely generous person”, very dedicated to his work, compulsive about reading and preparation.
He recalled that his father had been aware, before the 2004 elections, that if the Congress came into office, he might be appointed the solicitor general. When I asked about his sense of Vahanvati’s friends in politics, Essaji said, “In Delhi he did get to know and work with a lot of people over there. He’s known PC [Chidambaram] for many years, just to give an example ... I think he’s close to Ahmed bhai [Patel] also.” After his father had become advocate general, a different sort of visitor started appearing at their house. “There were a lot more government people who had to come,” he said. “And when they come they don’t come in one or twos, they come with their whole band of people.” When Vahanvati was a senior advocate in the Bombay High Court, Essaji said, his friends were more likely drawn from the corporate world, or even Bollywood—“the people he worked for”. I mentioned that a lot of people said Vahanvati had a close relationship with Reliance; did he remember how that came about? "Reliance, yeah," he said. "I am not so sure about what happened exactly." But as a state’s advocate general, he continued, “a lot of people tend to end up meeting you.”
When Anil Ambani’s name came up—as it inevitably did—in my conversation with Prashant Bhushan, he argued that Vahanvati should have recused himself from any matters involving Ambani or his companies. “Vahanvati told me himself that he is a close friend of Anil Ambani,” Bhushan said. He pointed out that Vahanvati continued to give opinions, or appear on behalf of the government, in cases where Ambani’s interests were at stake. “That, itself, is a conflict of interest.”
Mohan Parasaran, the current solicitor general, argued that talk of this sort, about corporate interests exerting influence on law officers, had been grossly overstated. To be selected as a law officer, Parasaran pointed out, “you must have had a good private practice as a leading lawyer—these industrialists would have been your clients at some point in time.” Former clients often become friends, he said, and “it is difficult to cut off these relationships: I can’t say, ‘Don’t come and meet me,’ no?” But this did not mean the law officers could not issue objective opinions in cases concerning friends or former clients. “See, these days nobody can avoid controversies,” he said. “If you’re holding a public office, it’s easy for anybody to accuse anybody.” Parasaran made it clear that he felt the allegations against Vahanvati were unfair, and said it was too easy for others to assume that identifying the beneficiaries of a given legal opinion provided evidence of favouritism. “If you go and drink milk under a palm tree,” Parasaran concluded, “people will think you’re drinking arrack.”
Harish Salve, who returned to his lucrative private practice in 2002 after three years as the solicitor general, agreed that it was facile to assume a given opinion had been issued for the benefit of one party. “Why a law officer holds a particular opinion—does he do it to please the government or does he do it because he believes it—these are matters on which you cannot comment unless you have all the details,” Salve said. But he also suggested that he would find it difficult to be objective about matters that concerned his own friends, and mentioned Mukesh Ambani and Jet Airways chief Naresh Goyal. “If you ask me about Reliance, I will tell you, ‘Don’t ask me,’ because my relationship with Mukesh is very deep, so my opinion may not be objective,” he said. “If I became attorney general, and a file came dealing with aviation, I would decline it, because anything I say is going to either hurt or help Naresh. One of the reasons I would never become a law officer now is that Reliance is in almost every business in the world, so if a file came to me which would either benefit or hurt them, I would have to say no.”
WHATEVER THE NATURE of Vahanvati’s relationship with Anil Ambani, there are at least two cases where Vahanvati authored opinions pertaining directly to Ambani’s companies. In these cases, his opinions were both controversial and beneficial to Ambani’s interests. The first of these concerned one of the companies implicated in the 2G scandal, Swan Telecom; Vahanvati’s opinion forestalled an investigation into the company’s ownership patterns, though the CBI later determined it had been set up as a front company for Ambani’s Reliance Communications.
By January 2009, one year after the contested 2G licenses had been issued by the Department of Telecommunications (DoT), multiple legal challenges had been mounted against the allocation process. Several of these concerned Swan, which had been awarded licenses for 13 service areas.
According to two complaints filed with the Prime Minister’s Office (PMO), from the Congress Rajya Sabha MP Dharampal Sabharwal, and Janata Party president Subramanian Swamy, as well as a writ petition filed in the Delhi High Court, Swan Telecom had been in violation of the guidelines for issuing mobile licenses. These specified that a company already in possession of spectrum in one circle could not own more than 10 percent of another company applying for additional spectrum in the same circle, as Swan had done. As Swamy wrote in his complaint, “The documents available disclose that on March 2, 2007, when Swan Telecom applied for Unified Access Services Licences, it was owned 100 per cent by Reliance Communications and its associates.”
On 12 January 2009, an internal DoT memo, responding to these complaints, asked whether “Ministry of Corporate Affairs may be requested to examine the matter,” to determine if Swan’s ownership pattern had violated the guidelines. In a subsequent memo, dated 5 February 2009, AK Srivastava, a deputy director general in the DoT, suggested that the opinion of the solicitor general should be sought, because he was representing the government in the High Court. A note on the same page from Siddhartha Behura, the telecommunications secretary, suggested: “Through the Ministry of Law we may refer this matter to SG.” Three days later, a note by Raja suggests the question could go straight to Vahanvati: “May be sent to SG directly since the cases are represented by him before the TDSAT and other judicial forums including HC [High Court] Delhi.”
The file was not sent to the law ministry. Instead, Vahanvati sent an opinion, issued on his own letterhead, on 25 March 2009. It argued that the ownership of Swan at the time of its application—in March 2007—was irrelevant, because Reliance had voluntarily divested its shares in the company in December 2007, nine months after applying, but one month before the licenses were issued. Therefore, Vahanvati concluded, “the file shows that there has been a full consideration of all relevant material and the conclusion that the applicants fulfilled all the necessary conditions cannot really be faulted.”
In an interview with Mint in February 2011, Vahanvati defended his opinion, saying, “All the facts relating to Swan were known. DoT had gone through the shareholding of Swan and given them an okay.” (A subsequent CBI investigation would show that all the facts were not yet known, revealing an intricate web of cross-holdings designed to disguise the full degree of Reliance’s involvement, for which three Reliance executives are now on trial.)
Vahanvati’s opinion, according to later notings in the file, was twice cited to block additional requests that the matter be referred to the corporate affairs ministry for further examination. The Comptroller and Auditor General (CAG) report on the 2G scandal admonished the telecommunications department for consulting Vahanvati rather than the finance or corporate affairs ministry, and characterised the department’s reply—based on Vahanvati’s opinion—as “evasive”.
IN LATE 2011, the CAG began to circulate a draft report indicating irregularities in the government’s allocation of captive coal blocks to private firms, which soon developed into the scandal unfortunately known as “Coalgate”, with a price tag said to be even larger than the 2G scam. One portion of the report focused on Anil Ambani’s Reliance Power, which had been given permission to divert surplus coal allocated for an ultra-mega power plant (UMPP) at Sasan in Madhya Pradesh to another power plant nearby. The CAG later estimated that the financial benefit of this concession for Reliance Power would be Rs 29,000 crore (Rs 290 billion) over a period of 20 years.
After the CAG draft report was circulated, an empowered group of ministers headed by Pranab Mukherjee asked Vahanvati for an opinion on whether the Sasan decision had provided an undue concession to Reliance. Officials from the coal and power ministries argued that the decision should be cancelled, but Vahanvati disagreed. In April 2012, the empowered group of ministers cited Vahanvati’s opinion—which the Financial Express called “a big relief to the government”—and opted to allow Reliance to go ahead.
The story is a complicated one, and it reflects badly on nearly everyone involved. It began in 2007, when Reliance Power won a bid to operate a UMPP at Sasan; according to the terms of the contract, three captive coal blocks would be allotted, to be used exclusively for power generation at the Sasan plant. Soon after the contract was signed, according to a senior official in one of the concerned ministries, Reliance Power “started moving in Madhya Pradesh.”
In October 2007, Reliance Power signed a memorandum of understanding with the Madhya Pradesh government to develop another power plant at Chitrangi, which would produce electricity using purchased coal. That same month, Shivraj Singh Chauhan, the chief minister of Madhya Pradesh, wrote to the prime minister requesting that Reliance Power be allowed to divert “excess” coal from the captive mines designated for Sasan to the plant at Chitrangi. This would increase the profit margins on the electricity sold by the Chitrangi plant, since its tariff had been set based on the assumption of higher costs to acquire coal.
An empowered group of ministers headed by then power minister Sushil Kumar Shinde approved Chauhan’s request for Reliance in August 2008. Their decision stipulated that the excess power generated by surplus coal should be sold at rates determined by competitive bidding (which would keep prices low). But as the CAG report notes, the tariff for Chitrangi had already been set, so the savings accrued to Reliance rather than consumers. The group of ministers, the senior bureaucrat told me, had effectively “tweaked the policy to suit Reliance”.
But Tata Power, which had also bid for the Sasan UMPP, filed a petition challenging the decision before the Delhi High Court in January 2009. Tata argued that the government had retrospectively changed the terms of the contract to benefit Reliance, and that it would not have withdrawn its competing bid if the surplus coal provision had been in place. (Vahanvati defended the government before the High Court, which dismissed Tata’s petition; the matter is now pending before the Supreme Court.)
In December 2011, an empowered group of ministers once again considered the Sasan decision. According to the senior official, Shinde had started to have second thoughts: “After the CAG report came out, Shinde got scared,” the official said. “He thought as the power minister that he would be made the scapegoat, and he wanted to withdraw the allotment to Chitrangi. But Pranab bulldozed him.”
The power and coal ministries had been asked to formulate a blanket policy for surplus coal, which could then be applied to any future UMPP projects. Mukherjee, the senior official said, requested that the ministries “keep Sasan in mind”. But in response, they proposed that any surplus coal must be sold to Coal India at cost, citing an existing policy that does not allow private companies to earn profits from mining coal. Noting that the original allotment for Sasan had specified similar conditions, the senior official said, the ministries recommended reversing the original decision granting Reliance permission to divert surplus coal to Chitrangi. “We formulated a policy, but it was withdrawn within three days,” the senior official said. “There was pressure from Pranab to ratify the policy that was used for Sasan, and we were told to consult the attorney general and come back.”
Over the next several months, the senior official said, the policy was discussed between the power, coal and law ministries. In response to their queries, the law ministry and Vahanvati raised additional questions and responded to them; questions whose answers, according to the official, had direct implications for the Sasan affair. “We had asked about four questions,” the official told me, “and he answered about ten.”
The new questions and answers, the official said, were “totally in line with what Reliance had wanted”. Vahanvati “interpreted that the clause was open for the government to decide” whether surplus coal could be diverted. “We said no, the clause did not say that.” Furthermore, the official argued, the documents specified that any excess coal could only be transferred to a subsidiary of Coal India. “He misinterpreted that the excess coal could be given to a subsidiary of Reliance.”
When the empowered group of ministers convened in April 2012 to consider the excess coal policy, the coal and power ministries presented their position “in black and white” alongside Vahanvati’s opinion. “We were overruled,” the official said, “but the CAG report says what we were saying.”
Since then, a senior Supreme Court advocate told me, “Every time Sasan comes up in court, Vahanvati starts sweating when he has to appear.”
| FOUR |
FOR ALL THE SENSATIONAL COVERAGE IT RECEIVED, the 2G scandal—arguably the defining scam of our time—essentially consisted of a disarmingly dull sequence of complex policy decisions. Few doubt that A Raja, in his role as communications minister, was responsible for initiating and executing the contested changes to the spectrum allocation process. The controversial question, which dominated two years’ worth of media reports and parliamentary discussions, concerned the involvement of others in the government: if they were aware of Raja’s intentions, were they complicit in some or all aspects of the scam, or did they choose to ignore his actions? Or had he misled the prime minister and several others about the true nature of his plans?
The intricate details, involving many subtle alterations to government policies and procedures, recorded in a trail of bureaucratic memos and file notings, are fantastically boring. But the basic outline of the scandal can be summed up by a few key decisions, whose effect was to tilt the playing field in favor of certain companies—including Unitech Wireless, whose proprietors were close to Raja, and Swan Telecom.
After the communications ministry received an unprecedented number of applications for mobile licenses and spectrum in late 2007, Raja altered the rules by which those applications were to be processed. First, he changed the cutoff date to an earlier point, eliminating more than 300 of the 575 applications; second, he shifted the criteria for determining the order in which licenses would be granted. The now-controversial “first-come, first-served” policy was already in place, but Raja altered the definition of “first-come” so that the date applications had originally been filed was no longer relevant. Qualifying companies would be awarded licenses in the order in which they fulfilled the conditions in the letters of intent issued by the ministry; in short, whoever deposited their cheques first would get spectrum first.
Many of the individual steps in the evolution of Raja’s new policies are laid out in a Department of Telecommunications (DoT) file, number 20-100/2007-AS-1/Part C, perhaps the most widely publicised “secret” document of the past decade. It begins with a memo from a director inside DoT, dated 24 October 2007 suggesting that the “Learned Solicitor General” provide his opinion on the proposed methodology to allot licenses and spectrum. After a letter to this effect was sent to the law ministry, the law minister, HR Bhardwaj, responded that given the importance of the case and its complexity, “it is necessary that the whole issue is first reviewed by an empowered group of ministers”, after which the “legal opinion of the AG [Milon Banerji] may be obtained.”
Raja found this disagreeable, and sent a letter to the prime minister protesting that there was no need for an empowered group of ministers to decide the issue, since it did not involve “new major policy decisions” but only procedures for implementing existing policy. Still, in the first week of December 2007, Raja went to meet Pranab Mukherjee, then the foreign minister, who chaired an existing group of ministers on spectrum issues. He was accompanied by Vahanvati, who as solicitor general was defending the DoT in a lawsuit filed by the Cellular Operators Association of India (COAI), a lobby group that represented Airtel and Vodafone, among others, challenging the criteria for awarding additional spectrum.
The meeting was a brief one, and no minutes appear to have been prepared. But Vahanvati presented Mukherjee with a note, detailing the government’s response to the COAI lawsuit, which was later sent by Mukherjee to the prime minister. Under the heading “The issue of new telecom licenses”, Vahanvati described the “first-come, first-served” policy in a way that left room for Raja’s alteration, stating that applicants would be granted their licenses and spectrum once they complied with the letter of intent (LOI) conditions.
A letter sent by Raja to Manmohan Singh on 26 December and copied to Mukherjee informed the prime minister that Raja had “several discussions” with Mukherjee regarding spectrum allocation, and that Vahanvati “was also called for the discussions to explain the legal position.” A memo from Raja, attached to the letter to the prime minister, provides an account of the revised procedures—including, critically, the new criteria for awarding licenses according to the order in which applicants meet the required conditions: “An applicant who fulfils the conditions of LOI first will be granted license first, although several applicants will be issued LOI simultaneously. The same has been concurred by the Solicitor General of India during the discussions.”
Thus far, Raja’s revisions to the allocation procedures had not yet been announced. In early January 2008, the DoT prepared a press release that described the new policy for determining the order in which licenses would be granted; the same release revealed for the first time that the cut-off date for eligible applications had been retrospectively moved forward, disqualifying all those who applied between 25 September and 1 October 2007. Rather than submitting the release to the law ministry—which had earlier demanded the issue be referred to an empowered group of ministers—Raja made a note on the file, instructing the telecom secretary to “please obtain Solicitor General’s opinion since he is appearing before the TDSAT and High Court Delhi”, a reference to the COAI lawsuit.
On 7 January 2008, the telecom secretary, Siddhartha Behura, went to Vahanvati’s official residence with the file, including notings and annexures, and a draft of the press release. On the page of the file following Raja’s note, under a handwritten “S.G”, Vahanvati wrote: “I have seen the notes. The issue regarding new LOIs [i.e. the allocation of new licenses] are not before any court. What is proposed is fair and reasonable. The press release makes for transparency. This seems to be in order.”
Behura returned with Vahanvati’s signature on the file, which Raja interpreted as granting legitimacy to his modifications in the license allocation procedure, as described in the press release—whose publication, three days later, set the scam in motion.
DURING VAHANVATI’S DEPOSITION before the CBI court on 27 January of this year, Sushil Kumar pressed the attorney general with a series of questions intended to demonstrate that he could hardly have been unaware of Raja’s revisions to the policy, given that he had been consulted at several earlier junctures, and had signed off on the release of the press note whose contents included the two most significant revisions: the new cut-off date for applications and the redefinition of the terms by which “first-come, first served” would be implemented.
Kumar’s questions about Vahanvati’s signature on the file lasted several hours. Vahanvati repeatedly insisted that his note on the file only approved the release, not the policies it described. Behura had called him, Vahanvati said, only to ask whether any developments in the COAI lawsuit might obstruct the release of the press note and the issuing of new licenses, after which Behura asked that Vahanvati record his opinion in writing.
Vahanvati said his note and signature did not convey his approval of any policies, which, he said, he was anyway unaware of. His replies to Kumar were a mix of exasperation and lawyerly precision, and featured many variations on a single phrase: “It is wrong to suggest that the Minister did not ask my opinion on the press release ... It is wrong to suggest that my opinion was sought through this file on the proposed course of action to be taken by the DoT ... It is wrong to suggest that I am wrong on this point.”
Though Vahanvati’s written reply begins with the phrase “I have seen the notes”, he contended that this statement did not in fact refer to the file in its entirety, but only to the notes on the page preceding his signature, instructing the telecom secretary to obtain his approval on the press release. Two pages earlier, the file contains a memo from Raja to the prime minister, which states in bold text that Vahanvati had concurred with his redefinition of the criteria to determine “first-come, first-served”. But in response to a question from Kumar, Vahanvati stated that he had not concurred, and that he was not aware Raja had claimed as much, because he did not refer to any earlier pages in the file before giving his approval to the press release.
Neither Kumar nor the lawyers for the other accused asked Vahanvati why he had given his approval to a file that had not been routed through the law ministry, a possible violation of the government’s rules of service for law officers. (Raja and Vahanvati both believe, albeit for slightly different reasons, that this was legitimate.)
A few weeks before Vahanvati’s testimony, I had asked one of his colleagues whether it was unorthodox for the solicitor general to offer his opinion on a file sent to him directly. The colleague defended Vahanvati, but also said, “The thing is, it was not as though this was the first time the file had been sent to him. He was being consulted on a regular basis.” This would suggest that Vahanvati had been given many opportunities to acquaint himself with the file. In his testimony before the 2G court, however, Vahanvati stated, “I had not seen the other pages of the file.”
With regard to the policies described in the press release, Vahanvati argued that he was not aware that the cut-off date had been changed from 1 October 2007 to 25 September 2007, as the release mentioned only the latter date. His statement that “what is proposed is fair and reasonable” and that “the press release makes for transparency” was not, he maintained, an acknowledgement of the revised procedure for implementing “first-come, first-served”, even though the release states that “who so ever complies with the conditions of LOI first” will be granted a license.
The senior Congress MP told me that within the government, “it was commonly admitted that Vahanvati vetted the press release.” In its chargesheet, the CBI accused Raja of having “fraudulently” altered the press release after obtaining Vahanvati’s approval, by removing the final paragraph before it was published. The Congress MP, however, pointed out that this was irrelevant. “Raja has been hit even for the first paragraph.”
The CBI had also accused Raja of fabricating the meeting with Vahanvati and Mukherjee that he described in his letter to Manmohan Singh, stating that “the investigation has not revealed any discussions with the SG”. In 2011, however, Vahanvati’s office revealed in response to a Right to Information query that the meeting had indeed taken place, raising the question of whether Vahanvati failed to mention it when questioned by CBI investigators.
For Raja’s defence, the meeting took on particular significance; Kumar proposed to Vahanvati that the meeting proved “policy and procedures were formulated by the DoT, after discussion with you and the then Minister for External Affairs.” Vahanvati denied this was the case, and insisted there had been no such discussion; he merely presented his note to Mukherjee, who went through it “very carefully and asked me some questions”. Kumar, in a dramatic flourish, suggested that the details of this meeting would show that Raja had not acted alone, but that the truth would never come out because only three people were privy to the details. “One is him,” Kumar said, and pointed to Vahanvati. “One is him,” pointing to Raja. “And the third is at a position where we cannot reach”—in Rashtrapati Bhavan.
KUMAR CLEARLY BELIEVES that Vahanvati’s role was sufficiently substantial to exonerate Raja of any charge that he deceived the government about his intentions. “Either Vahanvati is as guilty as the minister,” Kumar told me after the deposition, “or he is as innocent as the minister—this is my conclusion.” It may not be the case, as Kumar implies, that Vahanvati approved Raja’s actions with full awareness of their implications. But the available evidence, combined with Vahanvati’s unconvincing account of his own role, suggests either an implausible lack of comprehension or, less charitably, a negligence of his obligation to provide accurate legal advice.
A CBI investigator involved in the case told me that “based on the facts that emerged from the investigation, there was no criminal evidence against Vahanvati,” though many had speculated that he might be named an accused. But, the investigator added, “It could be speculated that there was passive complicity with Raja.” Vahanvati, the investigator said, was close to Anil Ambani, and “it seemed this was all done to help Swan.”
According to the investigator, the then CBI director, AP Singh, could frequently be heard complaining aloud that the agency had come under intense pressure from the Prime Minister’s Office to limit the boundaries of the investigation. Two other people involved in the case—another member of the investigating team and an advocate representing the government—told me separately that the PMO had also worked to ensure Vahanvati would not be among the accused, an allegation repeated by the senior Congress MP. (AP Singh refused multiple requests to be interviewed for this story.)
One person who seemed confident Vahanvati had failed to maintain his distance from Raja was the lobbyist Niira Radia, whose taped conversations, leaked to the media in 2010, contain several disparaging references to the attorney general. On 11 June 2009, in a call with her client Ratan Tata about her attempts to secure dual-technology spectrum in Delhi for Tata, she explained that she had met Raja along with Anil Sardana, then the managing director of Tata Teleservices. Raja wanted to grant the available Delhi spectrum to Anil Ambani’s Reliance Communications before any other player came into the fray, Radia said, and she told Tata that Raja would obtain legal assistance from Vahanvati, who was then defending the license allotments before the telecom disputes tribunal. “I think Raja will be trying to get in the attorney general,” Radia said.
In another conversation, five days later, Radia told K Venugopal, an editor with The Hindu Business Line, that Vahanvati had advised Tata not to fight Raja’s decision. “I know how Vahanvati has called Anil Sardana, and all of us, and said you know, don’t oppose minister, don’t oppose this, we’ll ensure you get your spectrum,” Radia said.
Later in that same conversation, Radia adds, “I’ve been party to a meeting, I mean, where Vahanvati has told Anil Sardana, ‘Do not oppose Mr Raja ... We will make sure you get your spectrum, I’m giving you my word, isn’t my word good enough?’... I walked out of that meeting with Anil Sardana, I said Anil do not allow this.”
When I contacted Sardana, he insisted the meeting Radia described had never taken place, and he “had no familiarity with the person mentioned”. But a person close to Sardana confirmed to me, in two separate conversations, that Sardana said Vahanvati warned him that if Tata tried to block Raja’s decision, they would never get spectrum in Delhi. To date, they have not.

| FIVE |
DURING MY INTERVIEWS with more than half a dozen current or former law officers, nearly all discussed the difficulty of maintaining one’s independence when faced with pressure from the government, at whose pleasure you serve. “Your government is a client—they want some opinions that promote whatever is their policy,” the current solicitor general, Mohan Parasaran, told me. “What I feel is, you can bend, but not break. You can bend to a reasonable extent, but you can’t compromise on your conscience and integrity.”
The question of how far you can bend before your integrity has been compromised is a subjective one; given the realities of Indian politics, each law officer surely has their own sense of what constitutes an acceptable balance between political expediency and constitutional morality.
Still, it would be hard to deny that in recent years, that balance has shifted in the wrong direction: if the government does not respect the independence of the law officers, then the law officers it gets will not be independent. The more that political pressure is successfully brought to bear on important decisions, the more it will be seen as acceptable, and the more it will continue to succeed.
But as Harish Salve told me, it is almost impossible to definitively prove that a specific legal opinion reflects the influence of outside pressure rather than inner conscience; even if there were evidence that pressure had been applied, a lawyer could plausibly argue that he had reached the desired conclusion independently. Nor, for that matter, can an opinion be shown to be “wrong”, except insofar as it misrepresents the facts or the law; the question of which facts and laws are relevant to a given case is invariably open to interpretation.
While it may be improper to draw such conclusions from a single opinion, it can still be the case that examining a body of opinions and their circumstances, over time, can reveal patterns that either confirm a lawyer’s integrity or raise doubts about their independence. One opinion that looks convenient may not really be so, but when many look convenient, there may be reason to believe they are.
WHEN A LAW OFFICER IS ASKED to give an opinion, he or she may have no control over the use to which it is put. But here too, a pattern may emerge: a sample of opinions that appear to serve the immediate political needs of the government may suggest that opinions have been drafted to cater to those needs.
In this regard, there may be no opinion more embarrassing for Vahanvati than the one he produced in November 2008, recommending that a disproportionate assets case not be registered against the Samajwadi Party (SP) president Mulayam Singh Yadav, a little more than three months after Yadav’s support saved the UPA in a crucial trust vote in Parliament. The opinion attracted criticism at the time, but it marked the beginning of a legendarily ridiculous chain of reversals and re-reversals in the case, which have, in hindsight, made the opinion look even worse.
The CBI had conducted a preliminary enquiry into the assets owned by Yadav, his two sons, and his daughter-in-law in response to a directive from the Supreme Court in March 2007. Seven months later, after finding prima facie evidence that Yadav and his family had assets disproportionate to their income—even before assessing the full value of real estate in their names—the CBI concluded that a case should be registered. For an unknown reason, the Court had directed the CBI to submit the results of its preliminary enquiry to the government. Anticipating that it would not act, the CBI filed an application with the Supreme Court in October 2007, requesting the Court to order the case be registered without further reference to the government.
After the Court failed to respond, the CBI filed another application to the same effect in March 2008, to which the Court again did not respond. In the months that followed, the SP stepped in to support the UPA in July 2008, and Yadav’s daughter-in-law Dimple sent three letters to the government, accompanied by tax returns, declaring her innocence.
Prompted by Dimple Yadav’s complaint, the then law minister, HR Bhardwaj, asked Vahanvati for an opinion as to whether the CBI should proceed with the case. Vahanvati’s opinion, delivered in November 2008, challenged the premise of the CBI’s preliminary enquiry and recommended that the CBI withdraw its application to proceed with an investigation. The central argument of Vahanvati’s opinion—which has been called “absurd” and “scandalous” by the press—was that it was improper for the CBI to include the assets of Yadav’s sons and daughter-in-law in its enquiry unless it could prove that they were being held for him to avoid detection. In other words, the investigation could not proceed unless the investigators could show beyond doubt that the assets were deliberately concealed, a burden of proof that could only be met through further investigation.
But Bhardwaj quickly concurred with Vahanvati’s opinion, and recommended the CBI withdraw its application to open a full investigation. The agency complied and requested the application be withdrawn. The Court, however, refused to honour the CBI’s request—which was based on Vahanvati’s opinion—and demanded that the agency first explain why it wished to withdraw the case.
At the next hearing, in late January 2009, Vahanvati appeared before the Supreme Court, representing the government, and dismissed his own opinion recommending withdrawal. “I had given an opinion in this case in November last,” he said, “and it is no longer relevant.” Now the government argued that it wished for the CBI to consider the merits of the case on its own before coming to a decision on whether to proceed. Two weeks later, Mohan Parasaran, representing the CBI, conceded that the agency had acted on the instruction of the law ministry—again, based on Vahanvati’s opinion—in seeking to withdraw its application, an admission that was excoriated by the justices. Vahanvati, again representing the government, now told the Court, “We don’t want to take any decision in this matter. Let the CBI consider the representation and submit report to the court.”
The twists and turns continued: in March 2009, the CBI completed its reversal, asking the court to ignore Vahanvati’s opinion and proceed with the case. But in February 2011, Vahanvati was back in court once again, now arguing that the case should again be withdrawn, on the basis that the Court was not allowed to order a CBI probe unless “fundamental rights” had been violated. A bemused bench told Mulayam’s lawyers, “He is supporting you. In fact, he has argued for you.”
The matter is still not resolved. In November 2012, the petitioner who originally brought the case against Yadav in 2005, Vishwanath Chaturvedi, filed a complaint in a Delhi court charging Vahanvati—along with Bhardwaj and four others—with “criminal conspiracy” to shield Yadav from prosecution. Meanwhile, the case against Yadav remains in limbo: the Court ordered the CBI on 13 December 2012 to continue its probe, this time without “obligation to file the status report before the government”.
LAST MONTH, Vahanvati found himself entangled in another uncomfortable situation involving a CBI investigation—this time involving the agency’s ongoing probe into the coal allocation scam. A series of news reports revealed that a status report submitted by the CBI to the Supreme Court on 8 March had first been vetted and toned down by officials from the law ministry and Prime Minister’s Office.
Several of these media reports have placed Vahanvati at a meeting, held in the law ministry on 5 March, where the report was amended; others have not mentioned his name.
But four sources, including a lawyer who represents the CBI, confirmed that Vahanvati was present at the meeting called by law minister Ashwani Kumar, along with additional solicitor general Harin Raval, CBI Director Ranjit Sinha, and OP Galhotra, a CBI officer. Raval and Vahanvati, I was told, were already present when Sinha and Galhotra arrived. The men reviewed the report together and changes were suggested; a new report was printed within the law ministry, and submitted to the Supreme Court.
The question of Vahanvati’s participation is particularly serious: in the Supreme Court hearing on 12 March, Harin Raval, representing the CBI, was asked if the report had been shared with the executive, which he denied. The bench then asked Vahanvati, representing the government, if he had seen the report. He replied that he had not.
When the first news reports describing the law ministry meeting began to emerge earlier this month, I thought back to something Vahanvati had told me when we met in January, about his admiration for his father. “My father was a great influence on me,” he said. “I learned a lot from him. He never misled a judge, and that’s why his credibility was so high.”


Correction: In an earlier version of this article, the office of additional solicitor general was incorrectly referred to as assistant solicitor general. The error has been corrected online.
Krishn Kaushik is a Staff Writer at The Caravan.
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IN THE COSMOS of the Indian establishment, the Supreme Court is a central galaxy. Its brightest stars, the senior advocates, can be seen gliding across the plaza outside the chief justice’s courtroom with an imperial hauteur, in their distinctive robes and “monkey suits” (as lawyers call the waistcoat worn by judges and seniors of the bar). Around each of these seniors orbits a small entourage: not only an assistant (usually carrying phones and bags), but three or four juniors, along with one or more independent advocates—lawyers who have not yet attained seniority, and work with the seniors on a case-by-case basis.
In an era when fortunes can be made and lost on the whims of government policy (or the manipulation thereof), billions of rupees hinge on the decisions of the Supreme Court, which has become the ultimate arbiter in innumerable disputes between corporates and the state. Today, the country’s top lawyers, who charge upwards of Rs 10 lakh (Rs 1 million) for a single court appearance, are some of the capital’s most powerful figures, Delhi’s closest equivalent to the Wall Street investment bankers that Tom Wolfe once dubbed “masters of the universe”.
It is not uncommon for these stars to quietly fade, due to age or exhaustion. But it is a rare sight when one of the masters gets pulled down to earth, even if briefly, by scandal or misfortune—a spectacle that draws rapt attention from the merchants in Delhi’s power mandi.
When the spectacle involves not just any top lawyer, but the master of the masters—the Attorney General for India, the legal custodian of the public interest of 1.2 billion people, who occupies a constitutional position designed to stand above the petty intrigues of politicians and corporates alike—it is a matter of grave concern that stretches far beyond the capital, for what falls is not just the man but the office.
So on 27 February, all eyes were turned toward an otherwise unremarkable courtroom in Delhi’s Patiala House, where Goolamhussein Essaji Vahanvati was appearing before a Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) special court. Vahanvati, the thirteenth Attorney General for India—the Union Government’s top law officer, with an office on the second floor of the Supreme Court and the right to an audience in any court in the country—was not arguing before the bench. He was standing in the witness box, answering questions about his role in what was, at least for a time, the country’s biggest scandal—the fraudulent allocation of 2G cellular spectrum. It was the first time in India’s history that the country’s attorney general had deposed as a witness in a trial court.
Over the course of two days, Sushil Kumar, the defence lawyer for the prime accused in the 2G scam, former communications minister Andimuthu Raja, peppered Vahanvati with questions. In his cross-examination, Kumar intended to demonstrate that Raja had sought and received the approval of Vahanvati, who was then the solicitor general, while making the decisions that investigators alleged were at the heart of the scam.
The file outlining the revisions to license allocation procedures had been sent to Vahanvati for his signature three days before the contested licenses were issued, and Raja had argued that Vahanvati’s opinion gave legal sanction to his policies, though the law ministry had earlier declined to grant that approval. Furthermore, Kumar argued, Raja had consulted with Vahanvati as he formulated a new process for the awarding of licenses, suggesting that Vahanvati, who was promoted to attorney general in 2009, had been well aware of the decisions that were now being characterised as a scam.
Claims of this sort—that others in the government knew exactly what he was doing—form the backbone of Raja’s defence, which maintains that he has been unfairly prosecuted for decisions that the cabinet had not seen fit to overrule. But Raja contends that Vahanvati’s role was even more significant: Prime Minister Manmohan Singh and other members of the cabinet had discussed these issues, and even seen files outlining the plans, but it was Vahanvati, Raja says, who gave legal imprimatur to the policy.
While Vahanvati stood uncomfortably in the witness box, parrying Kumar’s questions with careful replies, Raja made a display of his disagreement. At one point, near the end of the first day of questioning, Raja interjected in a voice loud enough to be heard by all of the 60 or so people inside the courtroom, exclaiming, “He is telling all the lies and I am the one going to jail.” Vahanvati, who had thus far avoided looking at Raja, turned toward him with obvious indignation, in disbelief that the tarnished minister would say such a thing in court.
There was more at stake for Vahanvati than mere embarrassment: the judge in the case, OP Saini, had the capacity to add Vahanvati to the list of accused if his testimony suggested a deeper involvement or complicity with Raja’s actions. But even Kumar, Raja’s lawyer, admitted this was not likely, and after two days in the witness box, Vahanvati was excused. He had managed to avoid any obvious missteps, and consistently depicted his role in the scandal as that of a minor bystander, whose legal opinions had been confined to narrowly drawn procedural questions.
Still, his appearance before the CBI special court marked a low point in his tenure as a law officer of the Union government, which has not been without its share of controversy. While much attention has been paid to the 2G scam, and thus to the role Vahanvati played, it is not the only case in which his opinions may have lent legitimacy to questionable decisions. In recent weeks, his name has surfaced in news reports as one of the government officials involved in watering down a CBI status report in the coal allocation scandal; in several other matters, Vahanvati has been accused of tailoring his interpretations of the law for the benefit of influential corporate houses.
Vahanvati is not the first attorney general to find himself mixed up in the messy partisan work of the government he serves; many Supreme Court advocates lamented that the independence of the government’s law officers had been corroded by political pressure over the past three decades. But Vahanvati has been more controversial than his predecessors, and not only because this government has been beset by allegations of spectacular corruption.
Over the past four months, while I was conducting interviews with Vahanvati’s friends and associates, fellow senior advocates, and Delhi’s corps of fixers and lobbyists—who occupy the intersection of government, business, media and law—the attorney general was rarely out of the news, and the news he was in was rarely good. One of his colleagues told me, admiringly, that Vahanvati was a man with “quick solutions to complex problems of law”; this makes him invaluable for a government whose trysts are mostly with crisis. But even feats of legal agility can’t keep an incorrigible client out of trouble forever, and eventually the lawyer is left holding the bill.
BEFORE HE WAS APPOINTED as the Union government’s solicitor general in 2004, at the start of the first United Progressive Alliance (UPA) term, Vahanvati had been the advocate general of Maharashtra, a position to which he rose after almost three decades arguing before the Bombay High Court. “Every lawyer’s dream is to practice in the Supreme Court,” Vahanvati told me when I met him in January. “Earlier I had been coming to Delhi a lot, but I had never had a sustained exposure to Delhi. This was a great change in my life.”
In person, Vahanvati is unfailingly polite and courteous, almost to the point of primness. During our only meeting, at his official residence on Delhi’s Motilal Nehru Marg—next to the Taj Mahal Hotel—he spoke so quietly and calmly that I could have heard a caterpillar crawling across his meticulously organised desk.
At one point in our conversation, which lasted about an hour, he produced a small red diary, about six inches by three inches, inside which he had noted, in small and careful handwriting, citations of past decisions, important cases, and legal arguments. It was, he explained, one of the diaries he had carried in his pocket during his early years at the Bombay bar. Back then, he said, junior lawyers spent hours and hours sneezing over dusty volumes of old case law. “One sentence would come out after three to four hours of research,” he said, adding that today’s juniors don’t understand how to properly draft their briefs. “Now,” he sighed, “everything comes readymade. But I always tell my juniors that unless you research yourself, you will never really improve as a lawyer.”

Courtesy: Caravan

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