The first question that comes to mind is why a book on Akhilesh Yadav when he’s only been chief minister of Uttar Pradesh for a year-and-a-half Even for an administrative genius, that’s too short a time for an assessment. And in any case, two controversies have not just tarnished his government’s image but also momentarily disillusioned important chunks of his Samajwadi Party’s (SP) voters: the suspension-transfer of IAS officer Durga Shakti Nagpal, who had taken on the western Uttar Pradesh sand mafia, for ordering the demolition of a mosque wall and the Muzaffarnagar riots which claimed 43 lives and displaced about a thousand times more (and which Ajit Singh, a bitter rival of the chief minister’s father, mischievously likened to the 2002 riots of Gujarat). Thus the book’s timing seems a bit odd, unless it has to do with the general election due by next May; but then, 2014 will be an electoral last stand not for Akhilesh, but for his father Mulayam Singh Yadav — SP patriarch, three-times Uttar Pradesh chief minister and the man who in 1996 narrowly missed becoming Prime Minister. Then why not have a biography of Mulayam instead of his still-greenhorn son In fact, reading this marathon 530-page biography by Sunita Aron, you wonder if this is actually a Mulayam biography in disguise. Aron is probably the most capable person to do so — she’s the Hindustan Times’ editor in Lucknow and over three decades has emerged as one of the savviest political journalists in India’s largest state and messiest electoral battleground. And while the narrative is set around the life of Tipu (Akhilesh’s nickname) it also packs in not just Mulayam’s life but also the post-Independence history of Uttar Pradesh politics. That’s a lot of narrative, frankly, and can be exhausting, especially if you consider two factors. One is Tipu’s reticence in talking about himself. This might have the advantage of forcing the author to rely on others’ anecdotes and thus give greater objectivity; it is here outweighed by the utter lack of insight into Tipu’s inner life. And though it is repeatedly mentioned that Tipu is a low-profile, quiet, genial and respectful youngster, with a love for sports and sentimental Hindi songs but not much interest in studies, it cannot be the case that Tipu has no inner life. After all, he married of his own choice, outside his caste (unusual for a family which runs a party that makes its livelihood on identity politics), to the beautiful Dimple Yadav. Perhaps, when Aron took up this assignment, Tipu was already busy with the yatras that led to the 2012 Assembly elections in which he earned his spurs by securing a majority for the SP and becoming the chief minister. Still, though she makes it quite clear that for Akhilesh, administration has been an uphill struggle considering the “uncles” he’s had to put up with in his ministerial Cabinet (notably Mulayam’s brother Shivpal Yadav and Muslim strongman Mohammad Azam Khan, both of whom let it be known did not want to work under a “bachcha”, forcing Mulayam to buy peace with them), the very fact of this handicap should have been occasion for some light on Tipu’s innermost thoughts. The other matter involves the publisher, Tranquebar. This book required professional editing not just to tighten it, but also because Aron’s grasp of English requires a seasoned editor. It is not just a matter of misspellings sprinkled throughout the 530 pages but also bad grammar, wrong usage of words and jumbled phrases. (Only the photos by Soumitra Ghosh are superb.) There has been no editing done by the publisher and the book looks amateurish and hastily put together, worse so since it comes at such a stiff cover price. For this alone some heads should roll at Tranquebar. This incompetence has recurred over the years, and it will take a lot to make me read another Tranquebar book. If you overlook these things, then Aron’s book is a good primer to Uttar Pradesh politics. Read this book and you will get a comprehensive narrative and an overview of the alliances, the battles and the violence that have manifested the social churning in this backward state. I would have liked to read some episodes in detail, one of them being Tipu publicly denying an Assembly election ticket in 2012 to notorious don D.P. Yadav (whose son Vikas is in jail for the murder of his sister’s boyfriend Nitish Katara). There was heavy pressure on Tipu to make D.P. Yadav a candidate, but he did not relent. Details of those days, when Azam Khan must have jumped up and down and Mulayam must have undergone a lot to keep himself from calling up his son, would have illuminated many things — about the dramatis personae, about Uttar Pradesh, about the rise of the young voter. There is another episode that perhaps has no publishable details but is interesting because it makes the reader wonder “What if ”. That is Tipu’s marriage to Dimple Rawat. Several people, including his father’s former lieutenant Amar Singh, wanted Tipu to marry the daughter of a powerful Yadav from Bihar (presumably, but not named, Lalu Prasad). They backed off when Akhilesh made it clear he would only marry the girl from Uttarakhand. The proposals from other Yadavs for Tipu had been arriving while the young man was in Australia studying and, especially when Mulayam was defence minister in the United Front government led by H.D. Deve Gowda. When Gowda resigned in 1996, there was a lot of support from the Left and in the United Front for Mulayam to succeed him. He definitely would have lasted longer than that pompous lightweight, the late I.K. Gujral. But Lalu put his foot down; he did not want Mulayam as Prime Minister. If Tipu had married Lalu’s daughter, then chances are that Mulayam would have been Prime Minister, and our history would have taken some very different turns.
Aditya Sinha is the former editor-in-chief of The New Indian Express and DNA
