Ever since he published his doctoral dissertation at the age of 22, Shashi Tharoor hasn’t taken a break from book writing despite his many preoccupations. He has written and published novels converted debates into books, and covered a wide range of themes, from international relations to Indian politics and society.
He is recognised as an accomplished player with words (he surely knows an obscure word for this) and an eloquent speaker, who has a knack for shooting himself in the foot, unintentionally, with a choice of words that violates his compatriots’ sensibilities— remember the ‘cattle class’ controversy?—but let us not digress, dazzled by the colourful plumes of the many hats he wears, and return to his latest literary feat, Ambedkar: A Life.
To begin with, it is a useful and readable introduction to the life and legacy of a great political leader and social reformer. The author has digested and encapsulated, for the lazy reader, a large volume of materials from earlier biographies of B R Ambedkar.
At times, there are quotations that stretch across half a page, followed by paraphrased material from the same source and while one is grateful for the spoon-feeding, it is difficult to overcome the uneasy feeling––whose book is this, anyway?
In large parts, it appears merely like a compilation of passages strung together with a few short sentences. Of course, all text cited is properly footnoted and the reader is welcome to visit the original sources.
There are, however, obvious inconsistencies and inaccuracies in the text. Sloppy research assistants have not served Tharoor well. Take, for instance, the section leading up to the encounter between Ambedkar and Dilip Kumar in Aurangabad sometime in the early 1950s: “Dilip Kumar was not just a matinee idol at the peak of his popularity, he was also a personal friend of Prime Minister Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, who would consult him regularly on cultural matters and issues relating to cinema and creative industry.”
Kumar delivered his first hit Jugnu, which was released in 1947. His debut film and the one following that had flopped. Though he was emerging as a popular tragic hero, it would be a bit of an exaggeration to claim that the actor was at the peak of his popularity at the time. To assert that he was also a personal friend of Nehru is even more incredulous. Kumar, born in 1922, was 25 years old at the time of their independence.
Nehru was 58 when he assumed office as the prime minister of the country. He had been in jail between 1942 and 1945. The actor’s “personal friendship” couldn’t have blossomed under these circumstances. Regular “consultations on cultural matters” were even less likely.
Although, the author has cited sources to present both sides of the story––Kumar’s enthusiasm to support educational institutions established by Ambedkar and the latter snubbing the actor and refusing his donation––but no fact-checking seems to have been done. This may appear as nitpicking on the reviewer’s part, but it is important to be aware of the accuracy levels of others’ observations before the selective use of material to
build an argument.
The author, while evaluating the legacy of Ambedkar, also points out areas where he might have been legitimately faulted, ensuring that this work is not a hagiography, but a biography. One of the flaws, the readers are told, is that Ambedkar didn’t speak up for the tribal people.
Another, is his graceless comments on Gandhi, even after his death, in a BBC interview, where he said, “I know Gandhi better than his disciples (do). They came to him as devotees and saw only the Mahatma. I was an opponent and saw the bare man in him. He showed me his fangs.”
Ambedkar’s statism and absolute faith in institutions are counted among his other weaknesses. The author also includes Bhiku Parekh’s criticism that the leader’s views of Hinduism and Hindu society were quasi-Manichaean.
Tharoor quotes Christophe Jaffrelot, who sees Ambedkar as “wavering between the aspiration to rise within the Hindu society and the urge to sever his links with it”, giving an overview of diverse assessments of Ambedkar. This is followed by a section that looks at Ambedkar in contemporary times, but is once again, a condensation, albeit remarkable, of other writers’ works.
Tharoor’s books have always been topical in the issues they tackle and the concerns they raise. Two of his earlier works ––Why I am a Hindu (2018) and The Hindu Way:
An Introduction to Hinduism (2019), for instance, addresses the soft Hindu constituency. The latest book, in this regard, falls short. It wouldn’t have, only if it was told more in Tharoor’s own words and not been a superb balancing act of other scholars’ opinions.