Thereafter, Sanjay and Maneka saw
each other every day. Sanjay was not a restaurant- or
picture-going young man and shy of being seen in public where he
would be recognised; he preferred to see Maneka either in her
home or bring her to his own. Early in 1974 he invited Maneka to
a meal.Maneka was understandably nervous of meeting the Prime
Minister and, when she did, she did not know what to say. It was
Mrs Gandhi who broke the ice. 'Since Sanjay has not introduced
us, you better tell me what your name is and what you do,' she
said.
Mrs Gandhi had
no reason to try and size up Maneka. Sanjay had brought home
different girls at different times. She had never on her own
introduced her son to anyone she thought would make a suitable
daughter-in-law. As with her elder son, she was willing to leave
the choice of the proper wife to her son.
Amteshwar Anand
claims that she did her best to discourage her daughter from
entering into what she felt would be a misalliance, and she sent
Maneka away to Bhopal to spend some days with her grandmother,
Lady Datar Singh. In July 1974 Maneka returned from Bhopal. On
the 29th of the same month a formal engagement ceremony took
place in the Prime Minister's house at 1, Safdarjung Road,
followed by a lunch where members of both families were present.
Mrs Gandhi gave her daughter-in-law-to-be a gold and turquoise
set and a Tanchoi saree. A month later on Maneka's birthday (26
August 1974) she gave her an Italian silk sari.
Soon after,
Sanjay had to undergo a hernia operation. After attending
college in the morning, Maneka spent her afternoons and evenings
with her fiance in the private ward of the All India Institute
of Medical Sciences. A few weeks after his discharge from
hospital and convalescence, Sanjay and Maneka were married
through a civil ceremony(on 23 September 1974) at the house of
Mohammad Yunus. Mrs Gandhi was generous in the wedding presents
she gave her new daughter-in-law: twenty-one expensive sarees,
two sets of gold jewellery, a lehnga, and perhaps the most
precious of all, a khadi sari made out of yarn spun by her
father Jawaharlal Nehru when he was in jail. Mrs Gandhi welcomed
Maneka as a traditional Indian mother-in-law would welcome her
bahu: she did up the bedroom, arranged artifacts on the dressing
table and chose bangles Maneka would wear on the night following
her wedding.
It was clear to
everyone that Maneka's days in No 1, Safdarjung Road were
numbered. The only speculation was how and when she would leave.
Mrs Gandhi, who had never known matters to be decided by anyone
except herself, was in for a nasty surprise. Once having decided
to part company with her mother-in-law, Maneka decided that this
time she would determine the terms and time of her departure.
She told me several weeks ahead of the exact day on which she
would be 'thrown out'.
Maneka chose
the time very carefully. Mrs Gandhi was in London for the India
Festival and had taken Sonia with her. Rajiv was too involved in
building himself up and avoided being at home to spare himself
meeting Maneka at meals.
Maneka and
Akbar Ahmed decided to launch the Sanjay Vichar Manch. Mrs
Gandhi did not know how to express her disapproval of an
organisation professing to propagate her son's ideals. The text
of Maneka's speech at the inaugural function (which Maneka
claims had been approved byMrs Gandhi) was telegraphed to London
by Rajiv. Mrs Gandhi decided she had got the opportunity she had
waited for all these months to get rid of her turbulent
daughter-in-law.
Mrs Gandhi
returned fromLondon on the morning of 28 March 1984 —
determined to call the shots.When Maneka came to greet her, she
dismissed her curtly: 'I will speak to you later.' Word was sent
to her that she was not expected to join the family for lunch
and the food would be sent to her in her room. About 1 p.m
another message was sent to her that the Prime Minister would
like to see her. Maneka was prepared for a dressing down. She
was in the sitting room when Mrs Gandhi walked in barefoot. She
ordered Dhawan and Dhirendra Brahmachari to come in as witnesses
to what she had to say to Maneka. According to Maneka she was
fuming with rage and was barely comprehensible as she screamed,
wagging her finger at Maneka. 'You will get out of this house
immediately.' Maneka assumed an air of innocence and asked,
'Why? What have I done?' Mrs Gandhi screamed back, 'I heard
every word of the speech you made!' Maneka added, 'It was
cleared by you.' This caused another outburst. Mrs Gandhi
accused her of disobeying her wishes, and for good measure
added, 'There was venom in every word you spoke. Get out this
minute. Get out!' she shrieked. 'The car has been ordered to
take you to your mother's house.'Maneka stood her ground.She did
not want to go to her mother's house and needed time to pack.
'You will go where you are told. Your things will be sent to you
later,' said Mrs Gandhi and again used strong words for
Amteshwar. Maneka started sobbing and left for her room shouting
back that she would not allow her mother to be insulted. Mrs
Gandhi followed her barefooted on the gravel road shouting
within the hearing of the staff and sentries outside; 'Get out!
Get out!' Meanwhile, Feroze Varun had been taken to Mrs Gandhi's
room.
Maneka's
friends got busy spreading the word round to the press. Before
going to the Prime Minister's house Ambika rang me up to tell me
what was happening to her sister and to spread the information.
By 9 pm a crowd of photographers and reporters, including
foreign correspondents, began assembling outside the gates. Mrs
Gandhi always had a healthy dread and hatred of the foreign
press. The police, which had been amassed at different points of
approach to the house, had not been fully briefed about whom to
stop and whom to let through.
Ten minutes
later Ambika and her brother arrived at the house. For the first
time in eight years they were stopped. Word of their arrival was
sent to Mrs Gandhi and she was told that Ambika was talking to
the pressmen. Their car was allowed to enter and the two went
into Maneka's room.They found Maneka in tears, trying to put
whatever she could into her trunks. Mrs Gandhi suddenly walked
in and ordered Maneka to leave without taking anything. Ambika
spoke out, 'She won't leave, it is her house.' Mrs Gandhi's
dislike of Ambika was tinged with fear of the girl's sharp
tongue. 'This is not her house,' shouted Mrs Gandhi, 'this is
the house of the Prime Minister of India. She cannot bring
people here without my permission. In any case, Ambika Anand, I
don't want to speak to you'. Ambika was not the one to be cowed
down. 'You have no right to speak to my sister like this. This
is Sanjay's house and she is Sanjay's wife. So it is her house.
No one can order her out of it.' Mrs Gandhi began to fumble for
words and to cry. 'I did not tell her to get out; she is leaving
on her own,' she said at one stage. 'I have never told a lie in
my life,' she protested. 'You have never told the truth in your
life,' retaliated the two sisters now emboldened by each other's
presence.The fight went out of Mrs Gandhi; she began to cry
hysterically and had to be escorted out of the room by Dhirendra
Brahmachari. Thereafter, messages had to be conveyed through the
hapless Dhawan who received his share of tongue-lashing from the
two girls — as well as being rewarded for his pains by being
bitten by Maneka's Irish Wolfhound Sheba, who had been upset by
the excitement.
Left to
themselves, the two sisters planned their strategy and
time-schedule for departure. They ordered lunch and watched a
film starring Amitabh Bachhan on their VCR at full blast so that
Mrs Gandhi who was in the neighbouring room could know they did
not give a damn. Every time Dhawan came in to plead with them to
leave, they presented him with a new demand. The dogs had to be
fed. The dogs were fed. When Dhawan failed to dissuade the girls
from taking away anything, Mrs Gandhi came in with Brahmachari
to order a search of everything they had packed.Maneka insisted
that if there was going to be a search of her belongings it
would take place on the road for all the press to see. The
trunks outside the room were deliberately opened for pressmen to
see and photograph by cameras outside the gate fitted with
telescopic lenses. Another round of accusations and
counter-accusations followed.
By now Mrs
Gandhi was no longer mistress of the situation. Rajiv
accompanied by Arun Nehru took over. They summoned the security
officer, N.K. Singh, and ordered him to throw out the two
sisters. Being a shrewd man, N.K. Singh asked for the order to
be put in writing. Neither Rajiv nor Arun Nehru would commit
themselves on paper. Verbal requests by N.K. Singh were turned
down by the girls who wanted their luggage, dogs, and now also
Feroze Varun who had a fever, to be sent ahead of them. Mrs
Gandhi knew she had been beaten and gave in down the line.
The girls and
their brother took their time eating a sumptuous lunch. The
luggage and the dogs were sent ahead in a taxi. A very sleepy
Feroze Varun was handed over to them at 11 p.m. Instead of a
taxi, the Prime Minister's car was ordered to take Maneka and
her son wherever she wanted to go. The last thing Mrs Gandhi
did, as was her habit, was to dictate a letter to Maneka
spelling out her misdeeds which had made her expulsion
necessary. Maneka sat down and wrote her reply which she
released to the press. A few minutes after 11 p.m, a very
tearful Maneka, bearing a bleary-eyed and bewildered Feroze
Varun, came out of the room to explosions of press-camera
flash-bulbs. Maneka had won this round against the Prime
Minister of India with a knock-out.
My close
relationship with Amtesh and Maneka came to an abrupt end a few
months later. A journal had interviewed me about some
allegations levelled at Maneka. My comments obviously displeased
her because a couple of days later, she stormed into my
apartment and flung a copy of the magazine in my face and
stormed out. An hour later I received a registered AD letter
from Amtesh accusing me of telling lies about the family. My
association with the Gandhis and the Anands had ended. I heaved
a sigh of relief. Another chapter in my life was over.
From Truth
Love & a Little Malice, an autobiography by Khushwant Singh,
Viking/Ravi Dayal, Pages 432, Price Rs. 450
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