In a political crisis, there was no better person than AP to connect the dots

Ahmedbhai (AP to some) was truly unique. From Mathai to Dhawan, from Haksar to Dhar, from V George to Brajesh Mishra, from P K Misra to Nripendra Misra to Shakti Sinha, the go-to men of powerful people not only reflected in the glory of their boss, the Indian PM, but occupied powerful decision-making (including Cabinet) positions. Since Sonia Gandhi was clearly the PM candidate in 2004 and was the first (and possibly the last) sure shot PM to decline the post in India, AP was the first such de facto or de jure political secretary to revel in glorified anonymity. None of his predecessors had cultivated inconspicuousness and invisibility with such passion, many did not desire it, few had it thrust upon themselves. AP hated the limelight, detested official recognition and accolades and elevated namelessness to a fine art. I found that the best way to tease, indeed alarm him, was to congratulate him and attribute some Congress victory or successful strategy to him. He would pause, look grim and say, “Are you my friend or enemy?”

Ahmedbhai spoke the least in any gathering, discussion or committee meeting. But he had the uncanny knack of guiding the direction and momentum of that discussion with minimal speech in not only the right direction but also towards a pragmatic solution. Not for him the long-winded rhetoric, the pompous self-promotional prattle which so many of our colleagues are habituated to, the prefatory list of self-achievements which many speakers at such gatherings are wont to indulge in. A curt look, a wink to me, followed by a sarcastic interruption and the ruminations would turn back to focus and more importantly, towards a solution.

If there was a political crisis, there was no better person than AP to connect the dots, not merely between disparate persons, whether within or outside Congress, but more importantly, marry those names to the burning issue at hand. During the nuclear 123 deal, when in both the debates I was the lead speaker from the treasury benches in the upper House, I knew how much a phone call from him worked even for non-Congress parties and RS members, entirely out of lifelong contacts and fully knowing the psychology and inner thought process of the person he was calling.

When I chaired the parliamentary standing committee on law, and we were able to deliver a near unanimous report on the Lokpal Bill in 2011 within four months after hours of labour and long witness evidence of eminent persons, I frequently turned for advice to AP. Not only was our subject — Lokpal — inherently volatile and controversial, but my committee had many stalwarts (including Jethamalani, Lalu Prasad, Paswan, earlier Jaitley and many others), given to strong and frequently differing views. How to handle them and extract a large measure of convergence was a lesson in political management and diplomacy, in which AP was matchless.

Ahmedbhai’s most relaxed time (and also sometimes the most irritating for the recipient of his call) was the post-midnight period. After my early years in public life, my wife would turn over half asleep and mutter that it must be AP whenever the phone rang after 1 am. I would always tell AP that his 1 am call was too early by his standards. But that was the time when he could be detailed about strategy, anecdotal about an issue or strategise more deeply than in the hurly burly of daytime meetings. Discussions about what I should focus upon as the lead speaker in the Ayodhya debate, or the two office of profit debates which I opened (involving Soniaji’s LS resignation), or the cut and thrust of my main reply on vote of thanks to the presidential opening of a session or a particular legal strategy for the party, were frequently done in those sun-rising hours. By a strange coincidence, two of the Congress’s most prominent troubleshooters — one backroom and the other batting on the front foot (Pranab Mukherjee) — with whom I have had close working relationships, were classic night owls. The only difference was one of degree — AP started after Pranabda slept, as also the fact that one had to physically spend the late hours with Pranabda at Talkatora Road while one did most of the work telephonically with Ahmedbhai.

AP’s job was such that he had to disappoint many. In fact, the bad news to disappointed non-appointees in the political cauldron had to be broken by AP at senior levels. Sometimes, it also involved those close to him from Gujarat or, obversely, those whom he may secretly have wanted to disappoint. The point I want to make is that he would do this more ably than any other, bluntly breaking the bad news, yet holding out sincere hope for the future (howsoever insincerely) and never burning his bridges or those of Congress with the person concerned, many of whom could be rude, crude, occasionally even abusive. In this, he admirably insulated and protected the top leadership. AP also had the great habit of doing such unpleasant tasks himself but conversely, when people thanked him profusely for some benefit showered upon them by the party, he would always remonstrate at the threshold and attribute it to the top leadership, decline to take credit and ask that the blessed write directly to or meet the top leadership.

I must confess that not even for a moment did it enter my mind, even remotely, that death was knocking at Ahmedbhai’s door with such proximity. In his first phase of Covid, he would talk to me personally, even in October, and more frequently, message me on WhatsApp. I told him jocularly that I was his Covid senior, having recovered from a bout in July, and that he should listen to me. When he proudly informed me how many virtual meetings he had done regarding Bihar elections, I was scathing, perhaps unreasonably critical while cautioning him. That was perhaps the last time we talked. When he regressed, I remember telling his son Faisal, with whom I talked several times till recently to ask about AP, that I was not sure whether sending him to a Faridabad hospital was a great idea. By then, AP was in Medanta and Faisal frequently assured me that he was on the mend. I never detected any doubt or apprehension in Faisal’s tone and I was therefore shocked at the 4.30 am call today. AP was only 71, certainly not an ill man and boasted to me several times about managing to do his verandah treadmill reasonably regularly. God’s will is mysterious but certainly untimely in this case