Ahmed Patel
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A brief biography
November 26, 2020: The Times of India
Ahmed Patel, the man who ran UPA from the backroom, dead
New Delhi: The passing of veteran Congress leader Ahmed Patel, or ‘AP’ as he was referred to, on Wednesday morning at a Gurgaon hospital after a long battle with Covid-related complications brings the curtain down on an eventful phase in Congress’s history in which he and Sonia Gandhi as party chief had an influential say in decision-making in the organisation and the UPA government.
Coming at a time when the party is faced with an ascendant BJP, and is having to grapple with a leadership void, dissidence and a growing crisis of confidence among its ranks and allies, the 71-yearold Rajya Sabha MP’s departure spells a blow to Congress.
Known for his networking savvy and ability to manage conflicting interests, Babubhai, as he was fondly called, was for all practical purposes the sheet anchor for Congressled UPA and the quintessential backroom manager. Designations can be misleading. Some convey an extravagant sense of authority about essentially ornamental perches.
Soft-spoken man who shunned limelight but had ‘lethal’ punch
Yet few could be as off-target as the one Patel sported during the Congress-dominated decade. The innocuous sounding ‘political secretary to Congress president’ was an utterly inadequate job description for someone who was arguably the most powerful person during the decade-long UPA regime.
The perception was derived from the lived experience of the influential and the rich. On paper, it was Manmohan Singh who held the office of PM, while Sonia was the power-behind-the throne. In reality, however, the reins were held by AP. It was the veteran from Gujarat who decided the make-up of the cabinet and Sonia’s team, worked out the terms of power sharing with coalition partners and, very often, influenced key bureaucratic appointments, including those in the PMO.
After Rajiv Gandhi, nobody had so many Union ministers, CMs, governors and others comprising the powerful set reporting to one person. He could pick unfancied figures, languishing on the middle benches and reconciled to an “also ran” existence, and get them appointed as CMs. Political has-beens were similarly plucked out of obscurity for Raj Bhavans. All the choices were supposed to reflect Sonia’s judgment and Patel would make it sure that is how they appeared. But few had doubts as to who had shaped the preferences.
When asked to explain some unexpected decisions, Patel would put it all down to the beneficiary’s luck. Few were taken in by the disclaimer and 23, Mother Teresa Crescent, the official residence he stuck to despite being entitled to a bigger bungalow, was the fount of power. The politically influential, as well as top corporate honchos, made a beeline to the modest-sized ‘kothi’ where he would receive visitors until 2am. Very often, he had five different visitors, some of them rivals, seated in different corners, with none getting a clue about the others’ presence. The power he wielded was directly proportional to the toil he put in to keep the coalition going, reconciling the competing demands of factions and ambitions within Congress and getting coalition partners to yield on their demands that he, an ardent Congress loyalist, believed the party should not acquiesce to. It was he who could get Shibu Soren to resign from the cabinet when his name figured in a murder case and, in 2009, persuade M Karunanidhi to relent from DMK’s expansionist claims for portfolios. When Pranab Mukherjee, a close friend and confidante, pressed his claim for Rashtrapati Bhavan, it fell to Patel to bluntly tell him to back off. His adroitness came in handy in handling Samajwadi Party, which had crossed over from the rival column to support the nuclear deal with the US in lieu of a promise for help with Mulayam Singh Yadav’s legal troubles. It was AP who told Manmohan Singh that he had crossed a line over the Sharm El-Sheikh fiasco.
From conjuring missing numbers during the trust vote over the N-deal to thrashing out power-sharing with NCP in Maharashtra when Sharad Pawar finished with better numbers or aligning with Babulal Marandi for Jharkhand polls — a call which helped Congress snatch a narrow victory from defeat — it all came down to Ahmedbhai. So crucial was the Congressman from Bharuch, who rose from the ranks and was elected to Lok Sabha for three consecutive terms before moving to Rajya Sabha, that an entire flock of political journalists were compelled to time their sleeping pattern to suit his eccentric and punishing schedule. A workaholic who could return calls at 3am, he was unrelentingly stingy with information. Yet, the wait was worth its while. For, even a non-committal “may be” or a laconic “let us see” was enough. Of course, he could also send a reporter off the scent if seeking confirmation for something embarrassing for the ‘leadership’ and the party.
He did not slog because he was hankering after power. To the contrary, Patel disliked prominence. He did not join the governments of Narasimha Rao and Manmohan Singh, preferring to work in the organisation. He was driven by a sense of commitment to the party — a loyalty which was appreciated by the ranks who voted overwhelmingly for him in the CWC. It was recognised by Rajiv Gandhi who appointed him as his parliamentary secretary and, later, by Sonia who preferred him over her ‘loyalists’ who had worked hard on her distrust of Rao.
He was also convinced of the party’s mission to be in power, something which explained the ruthlessness with which he made demands of allies and dealt with the challenge of rivals. He may have enjoyed being an understated ‘politico’ and liked being away from the limelight and was soft spoken to a fault, but he had a ‘lethal punch’ felt by many in the party and opponents.
The tough side to him was on display in the way he eked out his last RS win in defiance of BJP’s challenge and in circumstances which are being litigated in court. He rushed to be by the side of the party cashier when a team of tax people were questioning him about the source of funds and did not let his worries about an ED problem into his links with the fugitive businessmen Sandesaras cramp his style. The decisive say in the UPA decade came with a cost in terms of flak for ‘dirty’ jobs that needed to be done to keep the arrangement going. The nuclear deal, perhaps Manmohan Singh’s biggest achievement as PM, became possible also because of horse-trading, with Patel and Amar Singh taking the entire blame. When ‘crony capitalism’ under UPA was diagnosed as one of the chief factors behind the party’s electoral debacle in 2014, many in the party pointed fingers at him. Yet, he did not flinch from reporting for duty. He was not keen on his new responsibility as party treasurer but gave in after Sonia pressed.
B
Abhishek Singhvi, November 26, 2020: The Times of India
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 longwinded 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 postmidnight 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.
