Greatness, lurking in the shadows – VP Menon's Story

A chat with Narayani Basu, author of - VP Menon - The Unsung Architect of Modern India.

When Narayani Basu signaled her intent to inform history enthusiasts about the life and times of her great grandfather, Vappala Pangunni Menon, I knew that the time was right. The Nehru years were slowly fading into an insignificant memory, the architects who dreamed of a united nation, a republic from among five hundred and sixty five warring and wayward kingdoms were long forgotten, and the pillars of the strongmen who later propped up the new nation on their mighty shoulders had fallen. Perhaps it was time to tell people the tale of a different era, when there used to be a white man lording over a large many back coolies, when a small island out west found the ways, means and the method to drain and humiliate a once proud, but divided land.

Two recent studies written in completely differing styles dealt with the shortfall. Jairam Ramesh took the path of telling the story of Krishna Menon in a methodical, exact and archival fashion – writing which is sometimes termed archival history, while Narayani Basu has released her work on VP Menon, in a more traditional eulogistic fashion. Though some may term it a work of history laced with a dose of productive imagination, the crux of the matter is dealt with great enthusiasm. VP Menon long imagined as a cold, calculating ‘behind the scenes’ bureaucrat, the hammer of the iron man Sardar Patel, comes to life in this biography, a first book written on VP Menon, some five decades after his death. It details the life of a 7th standard educated coolie who worked his way up to become a very powerful and fearless figure in our history.

I came across Narayani some years ago, when she wrote to me after I had penned a small study on VP, way back in 2010. She mentioned that she had started her project on a VP biography, and I was pleased to hear that. Now we get to see the results of her painstaking work and see the caricature of VP spring alive, if only in the mind of the discerning reader.

Narayani Basu

Ottapalam – a town near Palghat, has been for some curious reasons, the ‘native place’ to so many great persons. They grew up and drifted away, most often to the political and administrative corridors of South Delhi. If one were to go there now, you will not see much other than some traditional homesteads and paddy fields lining the banks of the great Bharatapuzha snaking through, trying to empty its waters in the nearby Arabian Sea. VP Menon, KPS Menon, C Sankaran Nair, MGK Menon, Shivshankar Menon, the Candeth family, MK Narayanan, the list goes on. Old timers there would recall tidbits and family connections or anecdotes, if asked. There are not many of them left and soon the younger generation would have forgotten these stalwarts completely. Others, mainly artistes and film personalities like Gautam Menon and Stephen Devassy are the only names which spring to the younger set these days.

But that is not the subject and so let us get to know the book and its author a little better. Her publisher Simon and Schuster introduces her thus - Narayani Basu is a historian and foreign policy analyst. A post graduate in history and Chinese foreign policy from the University of Delhi, she is the author of The United States and China: Competing Discourses of Regionalism in East Asia and a forthcoming monograph on the history and significance of the Kashgar Consulate in bilateral relations between India and China. She writes extensively on foreign policy for several acclaimed international journals while remaining actively involved with her parent discipline—modern Indian history. She lives in New Delhi.

Her most recent book is VP Menon - The Unsung Architect of Modern India.

I was never a history enthusiast in my younger years. My readers were quick to explain the reason, it was a relegated subject, a boring requirement in universities, usually neglected - something nobody was proud about, for they assumed it was just stories of a motley lot, thoroughly subjugated by a bunch of interlopers from the blighty. It was not exciting, and the teachers were usually morose, not passionate about the subject themselves, just going through the motions. As time went by and I got interested in the past, I took it upon myself to bring it to the fore, not only retelling some of those tales, but also the people who brought about a change. It is therefore so much more gratifying to see so many new books, writers and personalities toying with history, nowadays!

Let’s get started with Narayani Basu.

Maddy: We can see from the publisher’s introduction that you are quite involved in a field of policy and governance, and that you are a historian. Other than this personal subject of VP which we will get into in more detail, what other subjects of history interest you?

Narayani Basu: I’ve grown up with a great love of history. I love reading about the foibles of personalities, the events that come about because of egos and – sometimes – immense love or hatred. The complexities of human nature and how those might influence a chain of events has always fascinated me. That’s why I have always gravitated towards reading biographies and memoirs

Maddy: Have you ever lived in Kerala or spent long stretches of time at Ottapalam? The initial chapters in your book talk about VP’s childhood in Palghat. Do later generations still live at Vappalakkalam or has the ancestral property fallen into disuse? How did you build in your mind, a vivid picture of Ottapalam and the childhood days of VP?

Narayani Basu: It was the book that actually took me back to Kerala. It has been a personal journey in many ways, and that is but natural given the subject I was writing about. I wanted the biography to paint a portrait of the boy, as well as of the man. For this, yes, I had to return to Ottapalam. I also had to travel between Kochi and Ottapalam. VP’s relatives still live in Elamakkara, in Kochi. The old tharavad still stands. In fact, there are two Vappalakalams. The original one – VP’s ancestral home – in Kothakurussi, which is today the site of the family deity and temple. It is where the family congregates annually. The other is the home that VP built for his mother later – it is close by, but in Panamanna, just next door. This latter one is today owned by a Muslim family. In the 1990s, it featured in a Mamootty movie, as well, called “Valsalyam.”

To draw a picture of VP’s childhood, I used his own memories of his days growing up. He left the impressions of his childhood in a slim little book of recollections for his step-daughter, Meenakshi.

Maddy: You start off the forward in the book with an interesting quip and an explanation. “VP Menon, our defense minister? It’s a common mix-up. V.K. Krishna Menon was, obviously, a far more compelling man. He strode into the political limelight as though he was born to it, and his relationship with India was both controversial and very public. V.P. Menon, on the other hand, merits a furrowed brow and a blank expression. Nobody knows anything about him, and yet, his importance to the Government of India, at a time when India stood on the verge of independence, remains unparalleled.In your studies of VP as a person, did you ever see VP expressing any amount of reticence over this?

Narayani Basu: Yes, most definitely. In the tape recorded interviews that Harry Hodson conducted, and which are currently housed in SOAS, in London, VP was a sad, frustrated man. After all, it was VP who held negotiations with over 500 princely states, who drew up the transfer of power plan in May 1947, and who chaperoned the 1937 elections. Despite his undoubted contributions – and they remain almost unparalleled in scale and scope – to the history of modern India, he was never given his due.

He was very aware of that.

Maddy: It is interesting to observe that VP possessed quite an ego, and the incidents of taking offence to the teashop owner, setting fire to the school thatch, running away from home hearing his father complain of financial constraints and so on are delightfully recounted in your book, did he go on to become somewhat placid as time went by? A question pops up, what did he feel when the borders themselves were lit by communal fires?

Narayani Basu: He felt, as did everyone involved, that it was a moment of almost nightmarish horror in India’s history. As Secretary, Ministry of States, he was privy to intelligence reports of the carnage that was taking place across the country. He saw things he would never forget when he visited Bahawalpur. In his own words, he would say, that at the time, “every man was like a wild beast.”

Maddy: You imply that VP had enough of the constrained village life at Ottapalam and enjoyed a liberation in Delhi and Simla, and we see that he did not savor a dull married life with Sushila. The messy triangle involving VP, Sushila and Kanakam is detailed in your book, but it must have been a difficult time for the children growing up and to put up with a stentorian father, right?

Narayani Basu: Absolutely. The breakdown of his first marriage left an indelible impact on two young boys who were, at the time, nine and seven years old respectively. VP was not an attentive father, nor was he at all close to his sons. They grew up, straining every nerve for his validation and approval. The peculiar formality of their relationship is best summarized by the fact that they called him “Sir.”

And yet, it was not that VP was entirely incapable of softer emotions. His marriage to Kanakam was underlined with steadfastness and constancy. She was the anchor he had always searched for. Meenakshi Anantan, his step-daughter, saw the real paternal side of VP. He adored her – an entirely reciprocated emotion.

He was also a very warm, extremely available grandfather. His grandchildren remember a man who was never too busy to talk to them. More importantly, they remember a man who talked to them as equals – always significant for children.

Maddy: How did VP and Sardar Patel strike up their glorious working relationship? Patel was a tough guy and quite brusque, how did VP who was pretty much the same, hit it off with Patel? As a very capable man, why was he a lost soul after the demise of Patel, his main sponsor? Was it due to the Nehru - Patel dynamics or was it so that VP was not given any due weightage, being a lifelong bureaucrat who worked with the British? Was the change from British rule to and Independent India too much for his personal liking?

Narayani Basu: VP met Sardar Patel in the autumn of 1946. Theirs was a relationship that worked wonderfully at the professional level, and soon became personal as well. VP would visit Aurangzeb Road (where Patel resided in Delhi) in the morning, and again in the evening. In between, there would be numerous telephone calls, depending on a given day and its events. By the summer of 1947, VP was very vital to Patel. He was, in every sense, Patel’s ear to the ground, keeping the Sardar informed of changing political winds, and reporting to him about everyday politics as well.

They were men who were very similar, yes, but they enjoyed a healthy debate over political issues. The Sardar was a man who encouraged listening to different ideas – even if they differed from his own – and discussing them. VP’s rise to the top – an entirely self-made one – impressed the Sardar, as did his political knowledge and acumen.

After Patel died, VP began to slide into professional obscurity. It was certainly not due to the fact that he had worked with the British. Nearly every Indian civil servant had, at that time, worked with the British – so that is definitely not a factor. Nor was it that the change from British rule to independent India affected VP. After all, he had spent his life working for the attainment of India’s independence. He had used his time within the British Indian Government to work on the front-lines of political reform.

The sheer scale of his career speaks volumes of the extent to which he was involved with India’s progress towards constitutional and political reform : he was the principal typist of the Montagu-Chelmsford Report; he was present in London on the sidelines of the Round Table Conference (where he observed the elaborate discussions regarding India’s federal future); he would supervise the 1937 elections (where he added women to the electoral list); he would, in the course of the 1930s and the early 1940s, put forward three plans for the transfer of power; he would author the Instrument of Accession as early as 1935. This is all much before the key movements of the mid to late 1940s, where his contributions are most noticed. So, I would vehemently disagree with the fact that the shift to independent India was not to his personal liking. His ambition was to do his best to deliver freedom to his country. He might not have done it in the streets, like the rest of the country – but he did it the best way he knew how.

That leaves one aspect, and even here, I would advise caution in how the phrase “Nehru-Patel dynamics” is used. Today, it’s easy to mire VP’s story in political controversy. Yet it is true that when Sardar Patel died, an extremely petty side of Nehru was laid bare. There are several who have left their voices on record about this. VP is one of them – he was told that he was not allowed to go to the Sardar’s funeral. He lost his temper, chartered a plane, onto which he boarded every one of the men who had worked with the Sardar in the States Ministry and flew them to Bombay. HVR Iengar, then Home Secretary (and a man who had worked closely with Patel as well), tells the story of how Nehru refused to allow Iengar to board the plane that would take Nehru to Bombay – for no earthly reason that Iengar could tell.

VP’s voice – a wonderful source of oral history – records several other instances which made a continued service in government without Patel’s presence both bitter and unhappy. The trajectory of his career thereafter speaks for itself – he was given an Acting Governorship of Orissa in 1951, and six months later, a rubber-stamp position in India’s First Financial Commission. By the mid 1950s, he was retired and living in quiet solitude in Bangalore. He died a decade later, in absolute obscurity.

Maddy: In the negotiations, wheeling and dealing with the recalcitrant princes, who were not very much inclined to join the Indian union, VP was the one who had to cajole, coax or sometimes, threaten the princes. Many an interesting story can be found in the records of the event, so also your book. As a person who was quite staid and conservative himself, how did he put up with or push hard for so much change?

Narayani Basu: On the contrary, VP possessed a remarkable ability to adapt himself to the times he lived in. He might have been born in rural Kerala, but the experiences he went through and the people and ideas he encountered early in his career shaped a huge part of his outlook on political progress for India. To give just one example, his trip to London – and his observation of the suffragette movement there – made him determined to give women an equal electoral franchise as soon as he could. He was never a conservative man, but a man with a chameleon-like ability to adapt ideas to a given political situation. He knew change was coming for India – for both the princes and provinces. 

VP’s methods of dealing with the hundreds of reluctant royal houses were adapted from Sardar Patel. Patel’s negotiations with the princes had begun much earlier, in 1946. His methods were a perfect blend of personal charm and veiled threats. Princes were called for lunches and dinners at Aurangzeb Road, and in the same vein, Patel was capable of letting them know – as he let the Nawab of Bhopal know during a meeting of the States Negotiating Committee in early 1947 – that as long as “burdens” were handed over, there would be no desire to take them over. These were tactics that were ably and most capably adopted by his Deputy. In the late 1940s and early 1950s, there was not a prince that did not recognize the power wielded by VP Menon.

What must also be remembered here was that while the concept of integration was very important for both Patel and VP, both men remembered that the rulers of these houses dated their lineage back to almost Vedic times. For them, it was not just a question of losing their privileges and sovereignty, but their pride as well. VP and Patel never forgot that they were dealing with men who, without their mystical powers of throne and crown, were mere mortals, stripped and laid bare. This is perhaps best highlighted in the debates around the Privy Purse. Patel and VP fought to keep their promises of Privy Purses and privileges to the princes, when a concerted movement sprang up – within the Congress – to undermine their efforts. We know how history panned out in this particular case, but it’s important to remember that for Patel and VP, the princes were not merely the means to an end – but humans as well.

Maddy: I have been intrigued about a few aspects related to VP and foreign policy, the first being VP’s interaction with KM Panikkar (KMP said - VP would finally prove to be the next sword of Parusurama and decimate kingdoms), secondly VP’s thoughts about the China debacle of 1962. Finally, VP was very much involved in the Pakistan creation, and perhaps you could also touch upon his relationship with Jinnah?

Narayani Basu: At the outset, VP was never fully convinced about the viability of Pakistan or Partition. Indeed, the penultimate transfer of power plan – sent to London with Patel’s blessings in 1946 – was the first plan that VP penned which took into account the prospect of Partition and Pakistan. Until then, he had insisted that every effort be made to preserve the country from just such a fate.

Jinnah and VP had a curious relationship. In the early 1920s, VP would encounter Jinnah for the first time. Jinnah took him off to have lunch at the Cecil Hotel, in Simla. It was a lunch that VP never forgot – he was still a clerk in those days, and Jinnah was someone he had, until now, seen from a distance. But it was an avuncular, very friendly relationship in the early days of the freedom movement. Jinnah and VP would meet again on board the SS Multan, the ship carrying the Indian delegation to London for the First Round Table Conference in 1930. Jinnah would take VP around Cairo in his car. They talked history and politics and ate fresh dates in one of Cairo’s best hotels. The friendship lapsed thereafter, and VP never met Jinnah again until 1946, whereupon Jinnah was a changed man. They would never share the same friendship.

Maddy’s note: KM Panikkar in his autobiography (pp162) mentions – Vappala Pangunni Menon was a remarkable man, starting with limited education and in a subordinate position, he climbed to the top of the official ladder. No one imagined at that time that he would be another sword of Parasurama and eliminate princely rule from India. He explains the expression later - (pp190) - “How all these grand and grandiose titleholders were swept under the carpet of history in the twinkling of an eye! Many are amazed that Vallabhbhai Patel was able to sweep them away in so short a time. The Puranas say that Parasurama fought twenty-one battles before he could exterminate the Kshatriya princes, but the new Parasurama needed no battle to make a clean sweep of kingship in India. One by one they queued up to sign their Instruments of Accession, and collected their pensions and left with good grace!

Regarding the 1962 debacle, the author mentioned that VP did not leave any notes on the 62 event.

Maddy: VP’s evenings were considered quite private, especially when he was sipping his favored Scotch. I recall humorous anecdotes around it and Patel’s suggestion that all ICS officers be prescribed a couple of pegs, in order to be efficient like VP. Was he always very British like in demeanor, actions, behavior and dealings? Now, this brings up another question, did he ever speak in Malayalam at home?

Narayani Basu: He was never English at all, and he always spoke to Kanakam and all his Malayali friends and visitors in Malayalam. What I admired about VP was his complete sangfroid in accepting who he was. He was an ordinary man from the Malabar Coast, and he never thought himself to be an Englishman. Yes, he most certainly enjoyed a peg or two in the evenings, and he was very fond of his suits and cigars. His first car was a slate-blue Cadillac. But he was always a very down-to-earth, grounded Malayali. When you hear his voice on the tapes of the interviews in SOAS, his voice is unchanged in accent or patois. It is 100% Malayali. He was never ashamed of that, nor did he try to hide it.  

Maddy: The late Capt Krishnan Nair of the Leela group, was perhaps one luminary who remembered and respected VP to the end. You have detailed the story of Nair’s involvement with VP, and readers may be interested to know that Nair was Menon’s secretary while he was the Dy Governor of Hyderabad. Some readers may also remember a budding cartoonist Kutty’s introduction to Shankar (both are famous cartoonists) was done by VP. A kind man indeed, but was he a different man at home from the man outdoors?

Narayani Basu: As I have said, VP was a man capable of immense emotional coldness – to the extent that one might call him stunted. He preferred to hide intense emotions, and he disliked looking at emotional problems in the eye. He was not the best father to his sons, and his relationship with those he loved would always be marred by the fact that he was not the easiest man to love either. He was certainly capable of kindness (as with Krishnan Nair and Kutty), and he was certainly no stranger to tender emotions (witness Meenakshi and Kanakam), but he was equally capable of selfish aloofness. But then, human nature is not easy to understand.

Maddy: How did VP spend his free time; did he have any hobbies? Was he an outdoors type or always cooped indoors afterhours? You do mention him and ‘Mummy’ Kanakam relaxing in their rocking chairs every evening and enjoying the peace of Bangalore!

Narayani Basu: Yes, he liked spending some quiet time at home with Kanakam and his books. But he also liked going for a drive with her too – which he did at an appointed time every evening. Sometimes his grandchildren accompanied them. On those occasions he would ask the driver to stop in Cubbon Park where the children would get out to play for half an hour. It was perhaps one of the only times that he could snatch to relax his mind fully and focus on his wife and family. But really speaking, the wear and tear of his relentless career in government had left him almost drained of any energy to follow any kind of hobbies with some passion. Remember that he worked non-stop without a break, and by 1947, when the Sardar asked him to be his Deputy in the Ministry of States, VP was already exhausted and in fact, pleaded that he needed to rest. By the mid-1950s, he was on the way to being ill, though emphysema would be a slow-burning killer in the end.

Maddy: It is common knowledge that Patel and Nehru crossed swords often and that both Menon’s (VP and VKKM) were considered the proverbial Arjuna’s of these two political bigwigs. So, there must have been a certain amount of competition between these Malabar Menon compatriots. In general, did they tolerate each other or were they distant with each other?

Narayani Basu: I think this is something Jairam Ramesh has also been asked – not unnaturally! These were two Menons who never got along. VP thought Krishna Menon was Nehru’s busybody and Krishna thought the same about VP being Patel’s mouthpiece. So there was a constant pushback between the two. After all, these were very different men, and dealt with their surroundings very differently!

Maddy: VP did enjoy a bit of pomp, especially when it came to his cigars, scotch and his blue Cadillac. I was wondering how it would have been with VP going to Vappalakalam in his Cadillac, an event you touch upon in your book. Did he ever have any dealings with the common man, the man on the street, so to say?

Narayani Basu: I don’t think that’s pomp, precisely. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like a good peg in the evening after a long day’s work sometimes! But he was never someone who lost track of the common man, nor did he ever think that he was above the man on the street. He had, after all, been in worse positions in his lifetime, and he never forgot the road he had traveled to get to where he did.

Maddy: Now a question to you, I see that you are working on the topic of Xinjiang Uyghurs and the Kashgar consulate, a very touchy subject as far as the Chinese are concerned. What is the Indian stance when it comes to the Uyghurs? Is it akin to the Balochi stance? I still recall eating at a Uyghur restaurant at Beijing, the food was marvelous, to say the least.

Narayani Basu: I’m not working on the Uyghurs, but the geopolitical history of the Kashgar Consulate during the time of the transfer of power between India and Britain. That’s a rather long story, which I won’t go into now, but it’s definitely an exciting one!

Thank you Narayani, for your time and patience, and wishing you the very best, hoping to see more works from your pen!

Maddys note: There were been some discussions about Nehru's cabinet list, especially after the recent book launch event. Since I had perused the Hodson book (The Great Divide), I remembered the particular section, so let me provide a little explanation for those who have neither read the Hodson book or know the background. When Nehru and Mountbatten discussed the cabinet requirements, Mountbatten was of the opinion that Nehru consider a younger, dynamic cabinet, and not be hampered by long timers. Hodson suggests through a foot note connected to another section in the book that this was perhaps in line with Gandhiji's advice to Nehru in which he saw the government differentiated from the party, and the Congress party be led by Patel. For exact details, see pages 388, 389 and 426.

Whether this ended up in the creation or submission of a preliminary list or if it was just a brainstorming exercise, is not clear. I believe this may clarify matters a bit and feel it was more of an input to a healthy discussion, and the so called first list may not be a substantiated fact.

VP, the man and his character have been complex, and his life had been until now, remained largely hidden in those niches and corners of pre-independence Delhi and Simla. I am sure many people would love to know more about the architect of Modern India which VP was, and Narayani’s book will go a long way to fill the gaps.

You may also wonder at the end why he was never cast into the limelight he deserved or why he slunk away to retire in obscurity at Bangalore, but as I said before, history is unkind to some, kind to others - that is how it was and that is how it will always be….