Watching the spectacle of Trinamool Congress leader Mamata Banerjee’s defeat in the recent West Bengal assembly elections, I could not but ruminate on the ephemeral nature of power, the inevitability of its decline, and the agile loyalties of followers. The irony, of course, is that leaders, when at the peak of their power, rarely recognise its transient nature.
In 1614, Sir James Roe, as the envoy of King James I of Britain, was received by Prince Khurram (later emperor Shah Jahan). At that time the Mughal Empire was at its zenith, and India accounted for almost one-fourth of global trade. Roe was asked to take off his hat, denied a chair when he asked for one, and stood leaning against a pillar until his chance came for an audience. Around a 150 years later, in 1865, a vanquished Mughal emperor, Shah Alam II, met another British representative, Lord Clive, in very different circumstances at Allahabad Fort. British artist, Benjamin West, has captured the scene on canvas. A triumphant Clive is shown looking down at Shah Alam, who had no other option but to sign away the huge revenues of Bengal, Bihar and Odisha to the East India Company.
The wheel of history is unrelenting. In our own times, we have seen what Indira Gandhi was in 1971 when, after the defeat of Pakistan and the creation of Bangladesh, she seemed invincible. She presided over an absolute majority in Parliament, her imperious word was law, and sycophants buzzed around her like flies around a honey pot. In 1977, she was trounced in the elections, and even lost her own seat.
In this choreography of power, what is interesting to watch is how quickly the attitude of most acolytes change. Perhaps, human beings — especially Indians — are overawed by power. Traditional wisdom teaches us to mostly defer to the powerful. Tulsidas aptly sums it up: “Samarath kahun nahin dosha gusain, ravi paavak sursari ki nahin” (The powerful can have no faults; they remain as pure as the sun, the fire and the Ganga). A commonly accepted nugget of practical wisdom is that “chadhte sooraj ko sab salaam karte hain” (everybody salutes the rising sun).
However, when the sun is seen to be sinking, the same adulators become vociferous critics, invoking ideology, principle and compulsion to justify their expedient loyalties. Ultimately, the real lesson needs to be learnt by the leaders themselves. They must realise, even when they feel they are unassailable, that circumstances can often change rapidly. As the poet Bashir Badr, who passed away recently, wrote: “Shohrat ki bulandi bhi pal bhar ka tamasha hai; jis daal pe baithe ho woh toot bhi sakti hai” (The pinnacle of fame is a spectacle that is momentary; That branch on which you are perched can break suddenly).
Leaders must also understand that they are but birds of passage: Their tenures are not infinite, nor are they indispensable. Rahat Indori makes this point with his usual bluntness: “Jo aaj sahib-e-masnat hain kal nahin honge; kiraedar hain, zaati makaan thodi hai” (Those now enthroned, may not be there tomorrow; after all, they are tenants, not owners). That is why, over 2,000 years ago, the Tamil sage-poet Thiruvalluvar in the immortal Tirukkural, repeatedly emphasised restraint, humility, and the fleeting nature of fortune. Prosperity, he observed, is like water resting on a lotus leaf — present for a moment, gone the next.
The mature response to power, therefore, is not arrogance but humility. Those who understand this may still face defeat, for defeat is part of life. But they will not be humiliated by it, because they never mistook temporary authority for permanent destiny.
In the final reckoning, history reserves its greatest respect not for those who held power longest, but for those who carried it lightly, exercised it wisely, and relinquished it gracefully. To govern is a privilege, not an entitlement. To lead is a responsibility, not a personal possession.
Mirza Ghalib prophetically said: “Har bulandi ke naseebon mein hai pasti ek din” (Every pinnacle has within it the seeds of its decline). The throne may appear eternal, but its occupants never are. Leaders must always remember the clarion call of Ramdhari Singh Dinkar: “Singhasan khaali karo ki janata aati hai” (Clear the throne, the people have risen).
Pavan K Varma is an author, diplomat, and former Rajya Sabha MP. The views expressed are personal
