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May

Chandra Shekhar – The Man Made of Rare Steel   with Heart of a Lion

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Prof. Pradeep Mathur

New Delhi | Friday | 01-05-2026

This year April has been an unusually hectic month. With war in the West Asian theatre and President Trump's  acrobatics between war and peace moves on the international stage, we also witnessed a high-decibel and highly acrimonious election campaign for the West Bengal Assembly. As if this were not enough, a special session of Parliament was suddenly convened to discuss three bills on women’s reservation—without any evident urgency.

While this special session served little purpose beyond providing an electoral issue for the contesting parties, it caused one significant loss. With all eyes glued to the contentious debate on the women’s bills, a very significent meeting taking place a stone’s throw away from Parliament House, at Mavlankar Hall, went largely unnoticed. This meeting marked the launch of the year-long centenary celebrations of former Prime Minister Chandra Shekhar.

In fact  to describe Chandra Shekhar merely as a former Prime Minister is no tribute to him . He was a politician of rare steel, with the heart of a lion in an era in which  , unlike today, there was  no dearth of leaders of  courage, conviction, and self-sacrifice. Many of his contemporaries were products of the freedom struggle or had an unblemished record of  service to  the working classes and poor peasantry. That Chandra Shekhar could distinguish himself among such stalwarts  — without compromising his convictions or independence of thought and action—was no mean achievement.

Chandra Shekhar never toed a convenient or doctored political line. He spoke and acted according to what he believed to be in the best interests of the nation and its people, regardless of its  consequences for his political career. Indeed, he never hankered after power. Remarkably, he holds the unique distinction of never having held a ministerial position in any state or central government before becoming Prime Minister. It is a well-known fact that he declined an offer from Indira Gandhi to join her cabinet.

His indomitable spirit earned him respect across the political spectrum. Even those who found it inconvenient to align with him admired him quietly, for he represented the very anti -thesis of careerism in politics.

Chandra Shekhar possessed a personality that attracted people instantly. I first met him in 1967 at the Hazratganj Coffee House in Lucknow, when I had joined The Pioneer as a trainee journalist. I was immediately drawn to his warmth, openness, and all-embracing attitude. My admiration for him has been everlasting .
Serious-minded journalists often face a dilemma. As a senior colleague at The Tribune once told me, there are only two ways to come up  in journalism—either meet a lot or read a lot. The two rarely go together. Though I admired him a great deal I could meet him only  occasionally, as I never had the time to have regular and close personal interaction with him.
 Yet, I followed his political journey closely.

A man of values, Chandra Shekhar appreciated integrity in others. During a Janata Party annual session in Varanasi, we at National Herald daily  in New Delhi  sent a reporter to cover the event. On the sidelines, the reporter requested a personal interview from Chandra Shekhar. When asked which newspaper he represented, the reporter replied, “National Herald.” Chandra Shekhar was surprised, noting that it was a Congress-owned newspaper, while he himself was an opposition leader  critical  of the ruling Congress party and Mrs. Indira Gandhi. He then askeassignmentd who had sent him. When my name was mentioned to him as the News Editor deciding on reporters assignments , Chandra Shekhar smiled and said, “Oh, now I understand,” and granted the reporter an excellent interview.

Though a man of firm principles, he was not dogmatic. He remained grounded in political realities. When the Janata Party began to totter, he told Subodh Kant Sahay that Indian politics would soon revolve around two major parties—the Congress and the BJP. Since joining the BJP was not an option for him, he should join the Congress. Sahay later told me that he was surprised by Chandra Shekhar’s advice but accepted it as a command from his mentor—and it proved good for his career.

In 1985, as President of the Janata Party, he convened a session in his native village of  Ibrahim Patti in Ballia district. Presiding over the gathering, he called upon the youth to dedicate themselves to the cause of rural development. I was Resident Editor of The Pioneer daily in Varanasi. I sent my reporters to cover the session. Then on the final day, I decided to go there  myself. Congratulating  Chandra Shekhar ji on such a successful show in a small location, I said that it was remarkable that about  25,000 gathered at the session and party delegates came  from across the country. He listened, paused, and replied: “That may be so—but barely six or seven of them are truly committed to devote their lives for  working in villages.”

I was struck by his honesty and realism. Most politicians would have seized the opportunity to acclaim it as a  grand success and got  media mileage. But Chandra Shekhar showed no such inclination.
He enjoyed excellent relations with journalists, but these were relationships of friendship—not of a leader cultivating the press for personal image-building. In Lucknow and Delhi alike, he would often visit journalists at their homes and engage in open discussions on public issues.

Unlike many top  leaders, he was not egomaniacal. Though he possessed immense self-respect, he remained simple and even humble. I witnessed this at an unforgettable event—an award function organized by Jan Morcha at Pararkar Bhavan in in Varanasi about thirty years ago . Chandra Shekhar was the chief guest, and I was a guest of honour seated alongside him on the dais.

After the introduction, the respected editor Shitala Prasad Singh addressed the gathering. He spoke about the award and acknowledged the dignitaries, especially Chandra Shekhar. Then, unexpectedly, he said that although he held Chandra Shekhar in the highest regard, he would not ask him to present the award. Instead, he invited me to do so, describing me as a “genuine and honest journalist.”

A stunned silence filled the hall. I was deeply embarrassed and unsure how to respond. Yet, Chandra Shekhar remained calm, with an approving smile. When my name was called again, I slowly rose, walked to the stage, and presented the trophy  to the award winner with a bowed head.
Even afterward, as he prepared to leave, I hesitated to approach him. But he himself turned toward me, allowing me to greet him. Only after he had departed did I regain my composure.
As the early years of the new century unfolded, the political environment began to deteriorate. Despite much promise, the government of Atal Bihari Vajpayee struggled to meet emerging challenges, while the Congress faced a leadership crisis. For political journalists like me, who had witnessed a more principled era, this was deeply disheartening.

I sought a meeting with Chandra Shekhar and went to his South Avenue residence in New Delhi. I insisted upon  him to come out of retirement and lead the nation once again . He gave me a patient hearing  said in a slow voice, “ No not me. What can I do  now? It is for you and your generation to act.” For the first time, I sensed a note of pessimism in his voice. He appeared like an ageing lion—still dignified, but weary. I came from  that meeting heavy-hearted.

I was present again at his residence on the day he passed away in the year 2007—amid a crowd of mourners, including former Vice-President Bhairon Singh Shekhawat. Many sobbed openly; others struggled to hold back their tears.

Some years later, as I  entered on the South Avenue road from  Trimurti Marg , I asked my driver to slow down and started looking towards the right side where Chandra Shekhar had his house. My eyes fell on a large signboard with inscription in bold letters  saying : “Kshatriya Kul Gaurav Amar Singh.”
At that moment, I felt  that the golden era of good politics in our country had really  come to an end.

( Veteran journalist and Media Guru, Prof Pradeep Mathur heads the Mediamap News Network and is Chairman of MBKM Foundation, a voluntary organization for social work)

 

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