My Father, page 13
While engaged in these activities, Father also took up causes that he saw as important for the state of Rajasthan. Two such causes, in which he got deeply involved and made a difference, are worthy of a close look. I devote the remainder of this chapter to their detailed discussion. The first of them concerns economics, and the second, history.
India is a federation in which some functions are assigned exclusively to the central government (for example, telecommunications, defence and foreign policy), some exclusively to state governments (law and order, electricity distribution) and some to both (education, health, infrastructure). To perform these functions, the Centre and states need revenues. Taxes constitute the largest source of revenue. Keeping the efficiency of tax collection in view, the manner in which the Constitution divides the powers of taxation creates an imbalance between revenues and expenditures. Specifically, under the Constitution, the Centre gets to collect a disproportionately large proportion of the nation’s total tax revenues. This creates a shortfall of revenues in the states.
Given this imbalance, the Constitution provides for the sharing of tax revenues raised by the Centre between it and the states. The tax kitty that must be shared between the two levels of administration is called the ‘divisible pool’. What the share of states in this pool of resources is, and how this share is to be parcelled among different states, are big questions, not just economically but also politically.
Accordingly, the Constitution provides for the appointment of an independent Finance Commission every five years to recommend how the divisible pool should be shared between the Centre and states (vertical distribution) and how the states’ share should be apportioned among the states (horizontal distribution). In apportioning each state its share, the Finance Commission is expected to favour the poorer states over the richer ones. The rationale for this is that poorer states are less capable of raising their own tax revenues and need extra resources to bridge the gap between them and the richer states in terms of infrastructure, education and health. Because of the extreme sensitivity of states as to the matter of receiving their ‘fair’ share of revenues, successive Finance Commissions clearly spell out the formulas they use to determine the proportion of each state’s share in the divisible pool.
Two years after my father’s retirement from government service, the Seventh Finance Commission delivered its report in October 1978. Now that he had the luxury of time, which he lacked earlier, Father decided to study the report carefully from the viewpoint of the state of Rajasthan. He noticed that the share of the state in the tax revenue pie to be apportioned among states, as recommended by the Seventh Finance Commission, had fallen significantly relative to that recommended by the Sixth Finance Commission. On closer examination, he found that the key factor behind this fall was the inclusion of a set of poverty estimates as one of the criteria for inter se distribution of tax revenues.
The Finance Commission had rightly chosen to base the division partially on poverty levels, such that the poorer a state, the larger would be its share of revenues. But the poverty estimates it used were seriously flawed. They showed that states such as Maharashtra and Gujarat had proportionately more poor people than Rajasthan did. This made little sense. Per-capita net state domestic product (NSDP) estimates at current prices in the year 1980–81 placed Rajasthan in the fourteenth place among the existing fifteen large states at the time. Only Bihar had lower per-capita NSDP than Rajasthan that year. Maharashtra and Gujarat ranked second and fourth, respectively, in per capita NSDP ranking.
Separately, based on his experience of working in the state government, Father was acutely aware that bringing roads, electricity and water to the people was a far more serious challenge in a sparsely populated state such as Rajasthan than in densely populated states. Innumerable small habitations were spread across the vast desert land of the state. Yet, successive Finance Commissions had taken into account only the population, but not land area, among its criteria for inter se distribution of tax revenues to the states. Nor had the Rajasthan state government made a plea to any of the past Finance Commissions for the inclusion of land area as one of the criteria in their representations. Father conveyed these points to the state government so that it could represent the state’s interests better the next time around.
Less than four years later, in June 1982, the central government appointed the Eighth Finance Commission. This time around, my father was prepared. Early in the Commission’s term, he submitted a memorandum to it arguing that it refrain from using the poverty estimates that the Seventh Finance Commission had used, and that the land area of the state be included, alongside population, in the criteria for determining the horizontal division of the states’ shares in the divisible pool. Later, when the Commission came for consultation to Jaipur, the state capital, it invited my father to offer his thoughts. Father went before the Commission and made his case in the strongest terms he could. He later recalled that when he bluntly criticized the poverty estimates used by the Seventh Finance Commission, chairman of the commission, Y.B. Chavan, was visibly annoyed.
Apparently, the poverty estimates the Commission was using were derived from a formula that heavily depended on calorie consumption. Anyone with calorie consumption above a specified threshold was classified as non-poor. At the time, due to poverty, there was a disproportionate consumption of millets by the rural folk in Rajasthan. Millets were cheaper than finer grains such as wheat and rice. Millets were also high in calorie content. Therefore, paradoxically, the poverty-forced choice of coarse grains in the state resulted in lower levels of measured poverty in Rajasthan. To make his point forcefully, Father went on to tell the Commission that during times of drought many people in rural Rajasthan end up consuming a particular grass, which is richer in calorie content than even millets. If calories consumed from that grass were included in the calculations, poverty levels in Rajasthan would turn out to be lower still! That line of argument left Chavan quite exasperated.
Father came out of the meeting quite certain that he had lost the battle. But when the Eighth Finance Commission submitted its report, he was pleasantly surprised that it had dropped the disputed poverty estimates in deciding upon inter se distribution of the states’ share in the divisible pool. Judging by the press articles that my father saw coming out around the time that the Commission was doing its work, he was the only person to have argued against the poverty estimates unequivocally. As such he was doubly pleased; at a personal level, it was a victory for him, but it was also something that helped the state.
In 1988, the central government appointed the Ninth Finance Commission under the chairmanship of N.K.P. Salve. It was charged with giving its first report for 1989–90 and a second and final report for the years 1990–91 to 1994–95. The reason for this unusual charge was that the government wanted to align the tax devolution years of the Finance Commission with the Five-Year Plans. Much to my father’s dismay, the report for the year 1989–90 by the Ninth Finance Commission resurrected the calorie consumption-based estimates of poverty, against which he had fought with the Eighth Finance Commission.
Therefore, when the Commission came to Jaipur for consultation with the state for its second and final report, my father sought a meeting with it as a private citizen representing the interests of the state. As per the tradition, the Commission accepted his request. Father argued with Salve for nearly an hour to drive home why it was a mistake to use the said poverty estimates in determining inter se distribution of the states’ shares in divisible pool. Frustrated, Salve told my father that the chief minister of the state had already agreed to the use of those very estimates. Father replied that he spoke only on his own behalf as a concerned citizen of the state. As with the Eighth Finance Commission, my father left the meeting convinced that he had failed to persuade the Commission members. But, once again, when the Commission’s recommendations came out, it was good news for him and his state; the Commission had dropped the use of calorie consumption-based poverty estimates.
My father’s final victory on behalf of the state of Rajasthan in the battle for securing a fairer share for his state came with the Tenth Finance Commission. He had argued with the two previous Commissions for inclusion of land area alongside population to determine inter se distribution of the states’ shares in the divisible pool, but had not succeeded. The Tenth Finance Commission, chaired by K.C. Pant, finally included land area among the criteria in its recommendations on inter se distribution of tax revenues.
The battle for the second cause my father decided to take up was fought a lot more publicly. This one was in the realm of history and proved a lot more controversial than any other he had fought in his public life. The question was about the place of Maharana Pratap – revered no less by the people of Rajasthan than Shivaji by the people of Maharashtra – in the history of India. Because of the intellectual value of the debate on the key question and the controversial nature of what my father championed, the episode requires a detailed discussion, beginning with a brief consideration of the relevant history.
Babur, the ruler of Kabul, laid the foundation of Mughal rule in India in 1526 CE. That year, he defeated Sultan Ibrahim Lodi in the famous First Battle of Panipat. At this time, Rajputana was ruled by a Rajput confederacy led by Rana Sanga. Sanga himself wanted to end the Muslim rule in Delhi and replace it with Rajput rule. To this end, originally, he had offered to join Babur in his assault on Ibrahim Lodi, in the hope that after scoring a victory, Babur would return to Kabul and he would become the ruler of Delhi. But he found out that Babur’s plan was to stay as the ruler of Delhi and therefore decided not to assist him. But once Babur won Delhi, Sanga was ready to take him head on and establish Rajput rule in Delhi. Accordingly, he challenged Babur and fought a fierce battle against him in Khanwa in 1527. But two of his key Rajput clansmen sabotaged him; they, with their armies, joined hands with the enemy. Sanga lost the battle.
Akbar, grandson of Babur and son of Humayun, ascended the throne in Delhi in 1556. He was an ambitious ruler who wanted to bring much of India under his rule. Though the Kachhawa ruler of Amber (near Jaipur, which was not yet founded) had surrendered to him in 1562, other major Rajput kingdoms, such as Bikaner, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer and Mewar, had shown no inclination to do the same. Akbar knew that the key to bringing the Rajput kingdoms under his suzerainty was the defeat of Maharana Udai Singh, third son of Rana Sanga, who had come to occupy the throne of Mewar in 1537 . To that end, he himself led an expedition to the fort of Chittor in 1567.
Though Udai Singh had already left Chittor and disappeared into the hills by the time Akbar arrived there, the latter pressed ahead in the hope that a victory in this battle would break the resolve of the Rajput kings of many other states. For four months, he persevered in his effort to bring down the gates and walls of the fort, but was unsuccessful. But in the end, the defending soldiers and their families inside the fort ran out of food and other supplies. Outnumbered but unwilling to surrender, they took the only recourse they knew: the womenfolk and children threw themselves into the fire, thus committing Jauhar, and the menfolk put on soldiers’ attire and went out to fight until death. Akbar finally scored a victory over Chittor in February 1568 and, contrary to the local tradition that forbade the victor from punishing civilians, went on to massacre 20,000 innocent souls.
Just as Akbar had hoped, the fall of Chittor led the rulers of Jodhpur, Bikaner, Jaisalmer and Hadoti to surrender to the Mughals. But Udai Singh refused to accept his suzerainty. Indeed, once Akbar had left Mewar, he returned from the hills and founded a new capital one hundred kilometres west and south of Chittor, which came to be known as Udaipur. Unfortunately, before the construction of Udaipur was completed, Udai Singh died.
Upon the death of Udai Singh, his brave son Pratap succeeded him in 1572. During this and the following year, Akbar sent as many as four emissaries to persuade Pratap to accept his suzerainty. Pratap received each with due courtesy but refused to oblige Akbar. Frustrated, Akbar sent an expedition against Pratap under Man Singh, grandson of the then king of Amber. The two armies met and clashed in Haldighati in 1576. Pratap was defeated and wounded, but his legendary horse Chetak managed to carry him out of the battlefield and beyond the reach of the enemy. After this battle, he concluded that he did not stand a chance against the mighty army of Akbar in a direct battle. Therefore, he changed tactics and switched to guerilla warfare. For the following thirteen years, Pratap remained invisible to the Mughal army but kept it on tenterhooks. He moved from one place to another with his family, and despite innumerable hardships refused to accept Mughal suzerainty.
Akbar sent armies in 1580 and 1584 to Mewar, but they were unsuccessful in capturing Pratap. But after 1585, Akbar decided not to pursue the latter any more and diverted his attention to conquests in and consolidation of other parts of India. Because Pratap was popular with the people and the local tribes were committed to his cause, by 1587 he was able to recover all his territories except Chittor and Mandalgarh. He spent the following twelve years rebuilding Mewar, which he successfully did, with prosperity returning to the region. During this period, he also completed the construction of the city of Udaipur. He died in 1597.
In the hearts and minds of the people of Rajasthan, especially of Mewar, Pratap is a rare patriot and revered hero. Whereas one by one all the Rajput rulers of his time became vassels of Akbar, he refused to submit to him. For those like my father from the region, who felt passionate about the freedom struggle against the British, Pratap was a great source of inspiration. Inaugurating the state of Rajasthan, even Sardar Patel gave a great tribute to Pratap, telling the audience that the new state represented the realization of his dream. Statues of Pratap can be found in nearly all parts of not just Rajasthan but in entire India. His birth anniversary is celebrated throughout the country. It is also a public holiday in the states of Rajasthan, Haryana and Himachal Pradesh.
Nevertheless, while historians largely applaud Pratap for his valour, some of them also hold the view that he was an obstacle to the unification of India and that he was responsible for keeping his people backward longer than was necessary. I have found the earliest expression of this view in the PhD thesis of historian Gopi Nath Sharma, written under the supervision of the leading historian of the time, A.L. Srivastava, at the University of Agra in 1951. Dr Sharma published the thesis in 1954 under the title Mewar and the Mughal Emperors. I am not a historian, either by training or practice, but as a researcher and scholar in the field of economics, I find the book an excellent piece of work. It is based on extensive original research and is lucid in its narrative.
At the time the first edition of the book came out, Dr Sharma was a faculty member in the Department of History at Maharana Bhupal College in Udaipur, where my father had done his own high school in 1938. Later, by the time I went to college in 1967, he had moved to the University of Rajasthan. I studied at Rajasthan College, which was an integral part of the University of Rajasthan. As history was one of my electives in my BA course, I had the privilege of taking a few classes with Dr Sharma. He was the best history teacher I had.
In Mewar and the Mughal Emperors, Dr Sharma has the highest praise for Pratap. For instance, evaluating him at the end of the chapter titled ‘Pratap and Akbar’, he writes:
As regards Pratap, it must be said that for twenty-five years he had played an important part upon the political stage, and represented with remarkable fidelity the views of the great majority of his subjects. He was a great ruler by virtue of his being a good man, with homely virtue, simple life, dauntless courage, untiring industry, generosity, and kindness which won him general affection and respect.9
Dr Sharma goes on to add:
Pratap’s death did more than close an epoch. It removed from the stage of Rajput politics its most attractive and most striking personality… As an optimist he took all the blows of adverse fortune with equanimity, and he never bore a grudge against it. By his spirit and success, the soldiers were taught to act, the subjects to hope, and the enemies to fear and respect.10
The chapter closes with this glowing tribute:
He upheld the pride of the Hindus and as long as this race lives, it will cherish with pride the memory of one who had staked his all in a fight against an alien. As a great warrior of liberty, a devoted lover of noble cause and a hero of moral character, his name is to millions of men even today, a cloud of hope by day and a pillar of fire by night.11
There is thus ample evidence that Dr Sharma has the utmost admiration for Pratap. He also recognizes and appreciates the highest respect and deep love that the people of Rajasthan, especially of Mewar, have for him. Nevertheless, in the last paragraph of the chapter just before his concluding sentences above, he writes, about Pratap:
Great as he was, one might speculate whether the struggle tended to contribute to the welfare of the country as a whole or produced adverse effect on the future of the land. It is to be admitted as Akbar was a great and benevolent sovereign who pursued the grand policy of unifying the country both politically and culturally, Pratap’s remaining aloof from the union was a great impediment in that noble task. To that extent it was injurious to the interest of his country. If at this stage Pratap would have joined the Mughal order, he could have saved his country from disaster and ruin. Even his long resistance could not avert the days when during his own son’s time Mewar became a subordinate state of the Mughal empire. Had this opportunity been given to Mewar earlier much of its backwardness could have been mended.12
