Manish Chand
Indo Asian News Service
Natwar Singh, former external affairs minister, has many avatars - Cold War stalwart, nonaligned nostalgist, a champion of the anti-West underdog. But he could never have imagined that his decades-long political and diplomatic career would end so disgracefully in full media glare over charges of corruption and subterfuge.
"Going, going, now he will go", "Finally, Natwar gives up", "Push comes to shove", "Natwar puts Fevicol to shame" - these were some of the disparaging headlines in leading national dailies Tuesday over the fall of the man who not too long ago was respected and even disliked for his proximity to the Nehru-Gandhi family, the sole centre of power in the ruling dispensation.
When he finally offered to resign over his suspected involvement in the Iraq oil-for-food scam as minister without portfolio late Monday, his decision was seen by many as the only logical thing to do. Almost as if the sensation-hungry media had already decided that the 74-year-old was guilty and therefore deserved the humiliation and the fall.
Not many bothered to question if he was really guilty or to find out what happened to the oil coupon that was allegedly given to the Congress. It was simply assumed that he encashed both coupons and kept the cash.
All his protestations denying his or his family`s involvement in the illegal Iraqi oil sales during the regime of Saddam Hussein simply didn`t wash with a media that refused to believe that the trip to Iraq by Natwar Singh, his son Jagat Singh and Andaleeb Sehgal, Jagat`s cousin whose firm allegedly deposited surcharge money from illegal oil sales, could be an innocuous one.
The more defiantly he protested his innocence, the more ridiculous he had begun to sound. Call it a media witch-hunt if you like, but in the end an overactive media driven by competitive chase of stories ensured that nobody was ready to believe him.
His stubborn refusal to resign, first as foreign minister and then as minister without portfolio, was dubbed as "defiance and recalcitrance" by reporters and pundits without a thought for why he was repeatedly saying that he was a victim of political conspiracy.
"Congress ka lafda hai, Natwar to bakra hai," read a newspaper headline quoting L.K. Advani, leader of Opposition, but such sceptical assertions were in a minority.
In happier times, Natwar Singh could have perhaps fobbed off such charges with literary flourishes, but this time round the ruthless logic of power prevailed - oil stains were thicker than any loyalty - leaving the diplomat-turned-politician tragically alone.
Most damningly, the Gandhis - a family he has been closely associated with for decades and from whom he derived his clout in the party - decided to disown him to protect its clean image.
And most humiliatingly, he was also deserted by his one-time protégés, as happened in the case of the flamboyant former ambassador to Croatia Aniel Matherani, whose stinging remarks accusing his mentor of fixing the Iraqi oil deal turned to be the proverbial last nail in the coffin.
Even though his hubris might have done him in and deprived him of support he so badly needed at the darkest crisis of his life, Natwar Singh had not done really badly as the country`s foreign minister for over a year.
He seized the opportunity to impart a fresh momentum to the peace process between India and Pakistan. The historic step to start a trans-Kashmir bus from Sringar to Muzaffarabad to enable divided families to meet each their loved ones was taken during Natwar Singh`s trip to Islamabad in February.
Despite the US cold-shouldering India`s UN ambitions, Natwar Singh tirelessly campaigned for India`s candidature for a permanent seat in the UN Security Council.
But in the end all this good work, in Natwar Singh`s own estimation, could not save him. A proud man, of his learning, of his pedigree (royal family, St. Stephen`s, Cambridge et all) and of his literary skills, Natwar Singh could not have foreseen that he would end up as so much fodder for screaming media headlines revelling in his disgrace.