This is an excerpt from the book My Life In Indian Politics by Mohsina Kidwai, as told to Rasheed Kidwai. It has been republished with permission from HarperCollins.
My father-in-law, Jameelur Rehman Kidwai, introduced me to the Indian political tradition and was instrumental in my joining the Congress in the year 1960. It would be the journey of my life, one that called for giving everything to the profession I had embraced and, eventually, immersing myself just as pilgrims commit themselves to the long road of faith.
Mohsina Kidwai with Rasheed Kidwai
My Life In Indian Politics
HarperCollins (October 2022)
But before I delve further into my years in the Congress, I need to go back a few years. It was the February of 1954, a couple of months after marriage, when Jameelur Rehman decided to travel to Delhi to meet [Jawaharlal] Nehruji and introduce to him the new member of his family, his daughter-in-law. I had never felt so nervous. Here was I, a newly-wed woman, with little knowledge of the world at large, waiting in the living room of Teen Murti House, the residence of not only the Prime Minister of India but a stalwart figure of the freedom movement who was respected for his politics as well as for his liberal erudition.
While we waited, Nehruji’s daughter, Indira Gandhi, came down the staircase that led to the living room. She walked up to my father-in-law, greeted him respectfully and then looked at me. “Is the pretty young woman your daughter?” she asked my father-in-law. “Daughter-in-law,” Jameelur Rehman sahab replied. “My eldest son’s wife. They got married just two months back.” Indiraji congratulated us and then sat down beside me.
That was my first meeting with Indiraji and the beginning of a bond that would last thirty years before her untimely death at the hands of her own security guards.
We were, perhaps, destined to meet because, over the next few decades, we would together fight many political battles and ideologies, a relationship that would survive into two other generations of the Nehru- Gandhi family.
Indiraji left the room a little while later. Pandit Nehru then entered. After he had welcomed the two guests, my father-in-law introduced me to Nehruji.
The Prime Minister blessed me, then turned to Jameelur Rehman. “When are you introducing her to the political world?” Nehruji asked.
My father-in-law smiled. “She has just got married; too new to even think about it,” he replied. But the seed had been sown and the answer to the question, casually tossed though it seemed at that time, would play out in the affirmative in the years to come.
Neither my father-in-law nor I had ever thought that politics would be the chosen path for both. We returned after having tea. I became Indiraji’s admirer from that very day. Both father and daughter oozed charm.
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Jameelur sahab’s commitment to the party was absolute. Some memories stay forever, no matter how old they might be. It was sometime in 1942 and Jameelur sahab had been given a ticket by the Congress to contest an election to the Constituent Assembly against a strong Muslim League. Most Muslims in the political arena had joined the League and only a few had chosen to remain with the Congress, inspired by its progressive and secular approach to nation-building.
Jameelur sahab’s Muslim League opponent was Jamal Mian, a strong leader who belonged to the Firangi Mahal school of thought. When Jameelur sahab’s elder brother learnt who his opponent was, he tried to persuade his younger sibling not to go ahead with the contest. He needn’t have tried. Much to his brother’s disappointment — and displeasure — nothing would sway Jameelur sahab.
It was not for personal gain, he told his elder brother, but his the party’s decision was sacrosanct. Whether his opponent was from the Muslim League or any other party, it didn’t matter to him, he said. But his party had asked him to contest and, being a Congressman, he could not let his party down in any way. Needless to say, the brothers did not have a very cordial relationship after that.
As the day of the election drew near, many leaders joined in to campaign for Jameelur sahab, among them a few maulanas too. When these religious scholars visited Jameelur sahab at his home, he received them with utmost respect, but refused to commit to a date whenever they would ask to join him for campaigning. This happened a few times and the maulanas were clearly not pleased. Jameelur sahab lost the election.
Later, when he went to Delhi to brief Nehruji on the election and his defeat, Panditji said he had heard that some maulanas had wanted to campaign for Jameelur sahab. Yes, they did express such a desire, Jameelur sahab replied, but added that the maulanas didn’t actually get to campaign for him. The electoral arena, he said, was neither a place for maulanas, nor was the battle about a religious issue where they could have helped him. Not only was Jameelur sahab dedicated to the party, his commitment to the party’s ideals was total.
Look at the plight of politics today. Every candidate seems to want to invite this Maulana or that Pandit/priest to deliver a speech in his/her favour. I don’t believe in all this and feel out of place to see, hear or experience blatant misuse of religion in politics. There was a time when nationalist Muslims like us were almost considered untouchable in our community. It was because a sizable number of Muslims supported the Muslim League.
Jameel Saab’s elder brother was a staunch Muslim League supporter. In the 1942 election he had openly supported his younger brother’s opponent. He even tried to persuade my father-in-law not to contest against the Muslim League. But Jameel Saab remained firm and stuck to what he had decided. The two brothers were not even on talking terms for the rest of their lives because of their political differences. Such was my father-in-law’s commitment to the Congress ideology.
