NEW DELHI: Lawyer, politician, governor, and vice president, Jagdeep Dhankhar’s political journey has been unconventional to say the least, tempered in phases by his legal acumen, unpredictable fidelity, and erratic swings between his sense of correctness and pugnacious confrontation.
That sums up the manner of his resignation, quietly, long after sunset, which he made public through a social media note. It arose after the impression gained ground that Dhankhar had thwarted the ruling dispensation’s strategy to initiate the impeachment of Justice Yashwant Varma. The treasury side was not yet ready with its motion when, as Chairman of the Rajya Sabha, Dhankhar reportedly received the Opposition’s notice. The government was not amused.
In many ways, Dhankhar’s story reads like a political parable — from the dusty village lanes of Kithana in Rajasthan’s Jhunjhunu district to the ceremonial grandeur of the Vice President’s Enclave in Lutyens’ Delhi. Ambition, some legal finesse, and an appetite for the limelight forged his ascent. Yet the very elements that lifted him — law, pugnacity, and showmanship — ultimately contributed to his eclipse.
Educated in physics and law at Jaipur University, Dhankhar built his early reputation at the Rajasthan High Court and later the Supreme Court. The black gown gave way to white kurta-politics in 1989, when he entered Parliament as a Janata Dal candidate backed by the BJP, a foreshadowing of the ideological tightrope he would walk for the next three decades.
From there began a restless political voyage. A textbook example of India’s aya-ram-gaya-ram political culture, Dhankhar migrated from the Janata Dal to the Congress during PV Narasimha Rao’s liberalisation era, before eventually returning to the BJP fold in 2003.
Opportunism or ideological evolution? His critics lean toward the former; his supporters may argue pragmatism and survival.
It was, however, in Kolkata’s Raj Bhawan, where Dhankhar’s personality found full expression. Appointed Governor of West Bengal, he repeatedly clashed with Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee, casting aside traditional notions of gubernatorial neutrality. Daily duels and dramatic statements defined his tenure. To many, it seemed less a governorship than a one-man opposition front, laced with personal vendettas and partisan edge.
Yet what seemed like overreach to his detractors looked like assertiveness to those in Delhi. His combative stint in Bengal may well have burnished his image in the eyes of the ruling NDA, which tapped him for the Vice Presidency, a post that he approached not as a constitutional referee but sort of a player-coach.
In Parliament, Dhankhar quickly became a central, polarising figure. His defenders hailed a Vice President unafraid to call out disorder. His critics accused him of stifling dissent, echoing the high-handedness of his gubernatorial days. Walkouts in the Rajya Sabha became routine. The Opposition bristled at what they saw as partisan moderation. Accusations of overstepping his constitutional mandate trailed him persistently.
The turning point, perhaps, came when Dhankhar admitted an Opposition notice against a sitting judge—seen by some in government as premature and unsanctioned. The move sparked speculation about internal rifts, followed by his unexpected outreach to the Opposition.
On the foreign front, he made only four overseas visits during his tenure—far fewer than Venkaiah Naidu’s 13 and Hamid Ansari’s 28. His Tehran trip for President Raisi’s funeral drew criticism due to protocol lapses.
At home, Dhankhar’s combative tone in questioning the judiciary on issues like bill assent and the NJAC drew flak. He wanted to be the system’s hand. But, in the end, the system pulled back.
Unconventional? Certainly. He was.
Forgotten? Time will tell.
