The Great Survivors

As a long-time connoisseur of adversity (I have experienced it first hand on countless occasions), I offer only one piece of advice for those afflicted: avoid envy and self-pity. These are the two besetting sins of adversity—sins capable of destroying a perfectly decent human being.

One commodity all successful survivors need is a slice of good fortune. Naturally, this boon must arrive at precisely the right moment. There is a lovely story about Napoleon Bonaparte. As he was poised to go into a major battle, his aides recommended a particular general to lead the charge. The general was a military genius, personally brave and tactically inspired. An ideal commander. "But is he lucky?" asked Mr Bonaparte. Good luck, as Napoleon knew, is crucial for victory.

On top of my list of successful survivors is Atal Behari Vajpayee. He has been in public life for nearly half a century, and in 1984, when under his leadership his party won two miserly seats, he must have been sorely tempted to chuck it in. Happily, the then prime minister-in-waiting resisted the easy option. Unlike most Indian politicians, politics is not Mr Vajpayee’s sole preoccupation. I can imagine someone like George Fernandes or Sharad Pawar terrified at the prospect of retirement because no other interest in life drives them. Our man on 7, Race Course Road reads and writes poetry, likes to travel, enjoys nature, is partial to good food and moderate amounts of wine, relishes the company of his family, is keen on gossiping and conviviality. Thus, spending the hours would not pose such a formidable problem for him. Additionally, he would be spared listening to lectures from Praveen Togadia!

Reading the papers these days, you could be forgiven for thinking that Mr Vajpayee’s cardinal virtue is masterly equivocation: speak on Monday, clarify on Tuesday. Actually, he has another, much more salient quality, namely, he knows when to put his head down and let the bad times pass. In the early ’90s, when L.K. Advani rode literally centrestage, Vajpayee cleverly and swiftly vacated the space and allowed the lohpurush to dramatically raise the party’s profile. With a little help from Lord Ram, of course. While the din of the yatra engulfed the country, Atalji either sat sulking at his home on 6, Raisina Road in New Delhi or went globetrotting. Subsequently, when the hated invader’s mosque was brought down, he rendered penance by making a few secular noises—the saddest day of my life, etc. It was his darkest hour; Vajpayee loyalists thought their man was ready to ride into the sunset.

Instead, he quietly waited for the call. And it came not because he was loved by his party or considered particularly useful in enthusing the cadre. The ‘mask’ was necessary to collect allies. The story is too familiar to be recounted, but it is made up of three ingredients: a) patience, b) timing, c) luck.

One of those ingredients—luck—is the defining determinant behind the longevity of my second example, Amitabh Bachchan. Who can forget the accumulation of woes besieging him around 1996? One flop after another on the big screen, the high-profile bankruptcy of abcl with all the rumours of money being siphoned off, stories of imminent imprisonment in the air, the disastrous entry into films of son Abhishekh....

And then that silly game show on Star Plus happened. Could a man who all his life had spoken lines written for him speak without the benefit of mugged dialogue? Would he be able to ad-lib? Even those who have a nodding acquaintance with "stars" know that they are colossal bores off the screen—megalomaniacs unable to construct a half-way interesting sentence in any language. Mr Bachchan proved us wrong. He grabbed his opportunity and reinvented himself. He not only became a TV star but emerged a born-again film actor. Luck, talent and grit came to his rescue.

I present Nelson Mandela as my final exhibit. Mr Mandela was obviously aware of Enoch Powell’s dictum: "All political careers unless they are cut off in mid-stream end in failure." So, he timed his exit magnificently mid-stream (a lesson for our politicos) and became a symbol of unity for his divided country. How easy it would have been for him, given his suffering under racist South Africa, to turn bitter, hostile and vengeful. This latter-day Gandhi survived not just apartheid but also voluntary retirement—only to emerge as the solitary statesman the world possesses.

I am also a survivor of sorts but it would be a Himalayan presumption to include my name in this lofty company.