Indira came in as a “dumb girl”. Rajiv entered politics under coercion of circumstances; his politician-brother had died in a plane crash. Sonia stayed silent for nearly half a decade before taking the plunge. Rahul? He seemed to have been just lacking in confidence.
All four changed. Either the change made them take the plunge, or they changed after taking the plunge. Indira evolved into one of the world's strongest stateswomen, even overshadowing her father in the deftness of her diplomacy. Rajiv tried to overcome his inherent shyness with bold steps, some of which led him into quite a few missteps such as Muslim women legislation, permitting shilanyas at Ayodhya, and sending the army into Sri Lanka. Sonia fought against heavier odds, including her foreign birth, to run the party for the longest period in its history. Now it is Rahul's turn.
Among them all, Rahul perhaps took the longest to come of age—more than a decade. So much so that many thought he would remain forever the Peter Pan of Indian politics, the boy who never grew up.
Comparisons are natural—especially between the two women and between the two men. And at times with Nehru. Nehru and Indira were quintessential renaissance persons—they loved books, respected scholarship, were passionate about science, and an eye for the arts, read poetry, indulged in the world of culture, and had an aura of refinement about them. Neither Rajiv nor Rahul has shown these traits.
Many have observed that Sonia has been emulating her mother-in-law. Actually, only in the way she conducts herself in public—in her choice of clothes, and in the way she interacts with colleagues and others. Otherwise, Sonia has been much more reserved, and much less bold, than Indira. She was always conscious that her critics would always poke at her foreign origin, and that thought limited her boldness.
Much the same in the comparative studies between Rajiv and Rahul. Rajiv had been a professional—an airline pilot—and had thus dwelt and worked in a non-political world. He had friends in the airline circuit, and had picked up the norms of professional etiquette which he carried through in his political life too.
Rahul on the other hand had lived only a life on the margins of politics, despite being in the thick of everything. He has met most Indian politicians of his time, but had rarely interacted with them till recently. Congress MPs or even working committee members had very little to gossip—flattering or critical—about him in Parliament's Central Hall. He was there—just there.
And his frequent vanishing acts—be it for vacations or vipassana sessions—had frustrated the elders in his party, especially when he was just not available during grave political crises. Indeed, Rajiv, too, had taken his vacations, but those didn't appear as running away from work or responsibilities. Rather they looked like the breaks that even workaholics take once in a while to gather further energy.
Comparisons are not fair either. Rajiv had leadership—be it of the party or the country—offered to him on a platter, though in tragic circumstances. Rahul's case is different. The party post is coming his way without even asking, but not the country's leadership. He will have to fight one of the most formidable political personalities of post-Independence India to get it.
But Rahul has changed. The last few months, especially after the humiliating defeat in UP, have been months of incredible transformation for him. Perhaps the defeat hardened him, and gave him the thick skin to survive in Indian politics. Perhaps it is also the realisation that his mother—reportedly facing severe health problems—is not going to be around for long to run the party or to guide him along.
Thus, it is a transformed Rahul whom one sees campaigning in Gujarat, the home state of Narendra Modi. And he seems to be conscious that this is the boldest step that he has so far taken—of trying to beard the lion in his den.
