Just Like That | Natwar Singh’s wit and arrogance of spirit
Kunwar Natwar Singh was passionate about books, and he wrote several himself, the first being an edited tribute to EM Forster.
In 1989, I was a young deputy secretary in the foreign office, when I received a call from the minister, Kunwar Natwar Singh (KNS), who died at the age of 95 on August 10 this year. He had called to congratulate me on my then-just-released book, Ghalib: The Man. The Times. I remember his making it a point to tell me, “I went myself to Khan Market to buy the book.”
That was the quintessential KNS, generous and appreciative, and — to his critics — arrogant and vain. KNS could not be accused of modesty. He was proud of his ancestry from the princely state of Bharatpur, and his marriage to Heminder Kaur, daughter of the Maharaja of Patiala and sister of former Punjab chief minister Amarinder Singh. She was quite the dominant wife and rather fond of coarse language. Nevertheless, he was not the less conscious of his own lineage. I remember the brevity of his bluntness when he abrasively asked another Indian diplomat who also used 'Kunwar’ in his name: “Why?”
A product of St Stephens and Cambridge, KNS joined the Indian Foreign Service in 1953, a few months before I was born. During his diplomatic career, he was ambassador to Pakistan, secretary general for the Non-Aligned Summit in 1983, and chief coordinator for the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting (CHOGM) the same year. Awarded the Padma Bhushan in 1984, KNS’s strength was the complete trust of Prime Minister (PM) Indira Gandhi, which began during a five-year stint in her office (1966-1971). That was the beginning of a long association with the Gandhi family, because of which he benefitted and suffered before he was finally abandoned. To Indira, he became a friend, and when she was ousted from power in 1977, he suffered for this association. But her triumphant return as PM in 1980 revived his career.
On her tragic assassination, he resigned and hitched his wagon to Rajiv Gandhi, winning the Lok Sabha election in 1984 from Bharatpur. He was minister of state for foreign affairs till Rajiv lost the elections in 1989. The next decade was one of relative oblivion. He moved to his own house in Vasant Vihar in Delhi, next door to me. We met often then, in his bedroom-cum-study where he read and wrote. Books were a passion with him, and he wrote several himself, the first being an edited tribute to EM Forster. He was proud of his correspondence with eminent people, including authors RK Narayan, Han Suyin, and, of course, Indira Gandhi, and published these as a book.
KNS’s arrogance of spirit gifted him with the art of rapier-like repartee. He dismissed a very senior and respected journalist, with whom he had differences, by saying, “That man. He is illiterate in three languages.” To a critique on the foreign policy being too soft or harsh, his sharp retort was, “What is all this talk about doves and hawks? We run foreign policy, not an aviary.” Sometimes, he was at the receiving end, too. At an alumnus meeting in St Stephens, he wrote in the register: “What I am today is because of this College.” Under it, the irrepressible Mani Shankar Aiyar apocryphally wrote, “Why blame the College?”
When the Congress unexpectedly returned to power in 2004, he was in the inner circle of Sonia Gandhi and became foreign minister. This was his finest hour, where he was the only minister who called Sonia Gandhi and PM Manmohan Singh by their first names. In 2005, he was turning 75, and he requested me to edit a book of tributes to him by celebrities worldwide. I agreed, but the project was stillborn.
In October 2005, he and the Congress were indicted in the Volcker Report on the Oil for Food Programme in Iraq. KNS, I know, was confident that he would weather this storm. After all, Sonia Gandhi was on his side. But what broke him was when she stopped taking his calls. He resigned thereafter, nurturing a deep bitterness against her, to which he gave vent in his autobiography, One Life is Not Enough.
The last time I met KNS was at a lunch at another veteran diplomat’s home, MK Rasgotra, who will turn 100 this September 11. KNS looked fit and dapper, and I did not think the end was so close.
Pavan K Varma is author, diplomat, and former Member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha). Just Like That is a weekly column where Varma shares nuggets from the world of history, culture, literature, and personal reminiscences. The views expressed are personal
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