Manohar Parrikar: Brilliant Mind, Simple Life

By Nitin A Gokhale

Manohar Parrikar was India's first IIT-qualified Chief Minister. But that description doesn't capture even a fraction of his achievements. He used his natural brilliance to serve the country, first as a committed grass-roots volunteer, then as four-time popular Chief Minister of Goa and finally contributed to strengthening India's national security as Defence Minister between November 2014 and March 2017.

Nitin Gokhale, one of South Asia's leading strategic and defence analysts, became acquainted with Parrikar quite by accident during the latter's stint in New Delhi, but by sheer coincidence the two became very close friends.
This book is as much a personal tribute by the author to his friend, as an honest attempt to capture the persona of Parrikar the man,the politician and patriot. Through the eyes of his family, friends and countless admirers the book dwells deep into his early influences, his journey from a small village in Goa to one of the highest posts in the country.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
• Release date: Mar 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9789390077649

Nitin A Gokhale

Nitin A. Gokhale is one of South Asia's leading Strategic Analysts. He is the founder of the defence-related website BharatShakti.in. and Strategic News International (sniwire.com). Now a media entrepreneur, Gokhale has worked across print, web and broadcast mediums since 1983. He has reported on India's North-East, the 1999 Kargil conflict between India and Pakistan and the Sri Lankan Eelam War IV. Author of six books on national security affairs, Gokhale is an alumni of the Asia Pacific Centre for Security Studies, Honolulu, Hawaii. He teaches and lectures at premier Indian defence training institutions like the National Defence College, the Army, Air Force and Naval War Colleges, the College of Defence Management and the Defence Services Staff College, besides being a popular speaker at various seminars and symposiums on civil-military relations, insurgency/terrorism, Asian Security Affairs and military-media relations.

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Preface

It is nearly two years since Manohar Parrikar passed away, on 19 March 2019, battling cancer. The dominant memory that his friends, family and people of Goa have of Parrikar is not of the cancer patient but that of a brilliant mind, excellent administrator, popular politician and a simple human being. That he didn’t let adversity dampen his spirit or his zeal to work for the development of Goa was evident till the very end.

In December 2018 for instance, a frail looking Parrikar, a tube inserted in his nose and barely recognisable as a handsome but simply attired Chief Minister, visited the site of the construction of the third bridge over River Mandovi. Even as the deadly disease was gnawing away at his vitals, Parrikar was more concerned about the completion of a bridge that had been conceptualised as soon as he became Chief Minister of Goa for the fourth time, in March 2017.

Many of his political opponents had criticised the visit, terming it variously as a ‘photo opportunity’, as a ‘tamasha’, but Parrikar was unfazed. For him, nothing could come between him and the welfare of the people of his beloved Goa. For nearly three decades, Parrikar—the first IIT-ian to become Chief Minister—rode the state’s political arena like a colossus. Whether in power or out of it, Goa’s political discourse since the early 1990s revolved around this engineer-entrepreneur-social worker-politician. As I have always said, Parrikar was a simple man, but not a simpleton.

His elevation as India’s Defence Minister in November 2014 was a pleasant surprise. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s choice to head the vital ministry was an inspired decision. Parrikar had already built a reputation as an honest, hard-working and innovative administrator. The Ministry of Defence (MoD) however, needed more than an honest politician. So why did Prime Minister Modi choose Parrikar? He did so because Parrikar had a technical and analytical bent of mind and had the ability to quickly grasp the intricacies of the MoD’s functioning.

Throughout his 28-month stint in the South Block, Parrikar did not disappoint. He not only grasped complexities of defence procurements but personally led changes that have resulted in transparent and simpler defence acquisition procedures. Many of the innovative ideas that Parrikar proposed have been gradually incorporated in India’s defence purchase policies since then.

That political compulsions forced him to go back to Goa after a short tenure as Defence Minister is something that will forever remain a regret for those who watch the defence sector in India but even in the limited time he spent in the MoD, Parrikar has left an indelible mark. I, for one, learnt immensely from our brief but very close association during his time in Delhi. As you will read in subsequent pages, we did not know each other until January 2015 but some common interests—military matters and a fondness for reading, for instance—brought us very close.

So it was with great pleasure that I agreed to a proposal from the Government of Goa to write this biography of Manohar Parrikar. Goa Chief Minister Pramod Sawant was very clear on what he wanted: An overview of Parrikar’s immense contribution to nation-building and, more importantly, his service to the Goan society.

Without help from Parrikar’s friends, political colleagues, ordinary citizens and, of course, his close associates, this would not have been possible. It is impossible to name all the people who came forward with their memories of and opinions about Parrikar, but some deserve special mention. Foremost is Chief Minister Pramod Sawant, in many ways Parrikar’s immediate political successor; Upendra Joshi, his close aide during Parrikar’s stints both as Chief Minister and Defence Minister (Joshi continues in that role even with Sawant); the Parrikar family, especially his elder sister Jyoti; close friends from his early days in Mumbai and Goa RSS; many industrialists, military officers, Department of Information, Government of Goa for the collection of photographs and bureaucrats. I can’t thank all of them enough.

Neelanjana Banerjee’s diligent recording of interviews with people across the spectrum has enriched this book. Without her contribution, the book would have remained an incomplete work. The ever reliable team of Paul Vinay Kumar, Jyoti Mehrotra and Rajbilochan Prasad at Bloomsbury, my publishers, as usual put up with my erratic schedule and delivery of manuscript with great patience. My grateful thanks to all of them.

Looking back, the time I spent with Parrikar in Delhi wasn’t enough to grasp the magnitude of his journey from a social worker to India’s Defence Minister. If I knew he was going to depart so soon, perhaps I would have devoted more time to understand his philosophy, his principles and what drove him to be such a workaholic. Alas, that was not to be. It was only after I interacted with his legion of followers, friends and family that a somewhat complete picture of this extraordinary man emerged. This book is not a chronicle of the man better known in Goa as ‘Bhai’ but an attempt to capture the essence of Manohar Parrikar—the man, the politician, the technocrat who loved his country and the people of Goa intensely. His rather early departure was a loss not only to countless friends like me but to the nation as well. His contribution and his memories will, of course, remain forever etched in our memory.

Introduction

In November 2014, when Manohar Parrikar became India’s Defence Minister, I was at a loose end, having quit as Security and Strategic Affairs Editor of NDTV (the Indian broadcasting network). I was not really eager to follow what he was doing since I had my own future to contemplate. From December 2014 to January 2015, I was taking it easy, having pledged to myself that I would only work for myself; no jobs henceforth. Meanwhile, Parrikar, from all newspaper accounts, was finding his feet in the Ministry of Defence. Because of my extant status, I had not felt the need to seek an appointment with him. In any case, I had no occasion to either meet him or know him because all my years in journalism since 1983 had been spent in India’s Northeast or in Delhi, never in Maharashtra or western India.

Yet we were destined to meet and become thick friends, albeit very briefly.

The author interviewing Parrikar as Defence Minister, in Mumbai.

Our first conversation began with a misunderstanding. In January 2015, I was in Baroda when an ‘unknown’ number flashed on my mobile. Thinking it was a friend from abroad whose number normally didn’t show up, I greeted him exuberantly expecting a similar response. Instead, the voice on the other end said, ‘This is Manohar.’ Puzzled, I rather curtly asked: ‘Who Manohar?’ ‘Parrikar,’ the caller added. The penny dropped.

It was India’s Defence Minister Manohar Parrikar. He had personally called. From his own mobile. No PA, no exchange, nobody holding the line. He had simply dialled directly. ‘I want to meet you,’ he said in a matter-of-fact tone after I had apologised for being slightly rude in my initial reaction. ‘Don’t say sorry. We have never spoken before and my number doesn’t flash. How would you know who is calling,’ Parrikar pointed out and immediately put me at ease. I told him I was away and would return to Delhi in the next couple of days. ‘Done. Let’s have lunch on Sunday. I am staying in Kota House. Please come there around 12.30,’ Parrikar told me. My obvious question was, ‘Who should I be in touch with?’ ‘No one. You call me. Please note my number.’ And just like that, my short but memorable association with Manohar Parrikar began.

I was puzzled and, to be honest, flattered that India’s Defence Minister wanted to meet me. I was also intrigued because at that point in time, I was not an important editor or an influential journalist, yet he wanted to meet me. ‘What could he possibly want from me,’ I kept thinking over the next two days. Parrikar had not mentioned any agenda or subject for our meeting.

Hours before going to Kota House—the Naval facility where he was staying, since a Lutyens zone bungalow was yet to be allotted to Parrikar—I typed out a one-page suggestion sheet in bullet points, highlighting what I thought were the key issues in the Ministry of Defence.

At Kota House, I was ushered straight into his suite. A smiling Parrikar, dressed as usual in his trademark open bush shirt and trousers, instantly put me at ease. I had heard many good things about his simplicity, his open approach. In fact, my friend Tejas Mehta, who was then the Mumbai bureau chief of NDTV, had specifically asked me to meet Parrikar in November 2014 when he took over as Defence Minister, mentioning that he was very approachable. All this came back to my mind in a flash as we sat down.

After a moment of awkward silence on my part, I tentatively offered him the one-page sheet I had typed out. After spending two-three minutes reading it, Parrikar said, ‘Good suggestions. And I am already working on some of them. But tell me, why does the MoD function on a principle of mistrust?’ Taken aback at the rather direct remark, I asked him to elaborate. ‘In these 2–3 months that I have been here, the most striking aspect I noticed is the all-pervasive atmosphere of suspicion. Everyone is looking over his or her own shoulders. There is very little coordination; the overwhelming tendency is to first say no to everything,’ a visibly agitated Parrikar explained.

Parrikar with the author at a Defence conclave in 2016.

I was astonished at how quickly a newcomer like him (with no previous experience at the Centre) had gauged the work culture in South Block. ‘It has been like this for decades,’ I concurred. ‘What can be done to improve the system,’ was Parrikar’s next question. ‘Well, there are no ready-made solutions,’ I added.

‘There has to be a solution! I think the key is in getting everyone to sit down and evolve a fresh approach. I will call you again to discuss something that I have in mind,’ he said, ‘but let’s not keep the fish waiting,’ gesturing towards the dining table. That’s when I first got a glimpse of his legendary love for fish. As we finished lunch, another point I noted was the ease with which he interacted with his personal staff. Upendra Joshi and Mayuresh Khanvate were among the two most trusted of his personal staff. They also ate with us, sitting at the same dining table. Later I knew why. When he trusted a person, he trusted him or her fully. No half measures.

As weeks went by, we met more frequently—always at his initiative—since I had insisted that I will meet him only when he wanted. Gradually, his calls started coming daily. He was hungry for fresh information, new insights. I provided whatever I could with my limited knowledge.

One day, Parrikar said he wanted to revise the Defence Procurement Procedure (DPP). ‘Give me some names of experts who can revise, rewrite and simplify the procedures,’ he told me. So I suggested half-a-dozen names. He chose four of them for the committee that eventually wrote the DPP– 2016. It had many revolutionary ideas and Parrikar’s stamp was very clearly visible. He overcame stiff opposition from within to introduce a new category for procurement in the MoD, called IDDM—Indigenously Designed, Developed and Manufactured—products, giving them top priority in acquisition. I dare say that the improved transparency in the MoD and the willingness of top officials to meet and explore collaborations is the lasting legacy Parrikar has left behind in the South Block.

As months went by, he started calling me to his home at 10, Akbar Road. Sometimes early morning at 7 AM, many a times after 10 PM, after he had finished with his official work. At night, he would inevitably share a beer (Bira had become his favourite) and ruminate, bounce off ideas and sometimes express his frustration about the obstacles he faced in the system. So much so that even when I went off to Honolulu for the 40-day Advanced Security Cooperation course at the Asia-Pacific Centre for Security Studies, in September– October 2015, he would occasionally call from his staff’s WhatsApp number, simply to chat.

By middle of 2015, he had understood what could work in the murky world of defence, and what could not. However, he was never comfortable in Delhi’s culture of sycophancy. His bungalow was open to everyone but fixers and influencers. So I had to be doubly careful, since word had spread about my unrestricted access to India’s Defence Minister. I must have blocked at least 14–15 phone numbers in the period that Parrikar was in Delhi because people of dubious credentials wanted to use my closeness to him. I would inevitably tell him about who I had blocked. He would smile and say, ‘Good!’

In November 2015, I launched my first digital platform, BharatShakti.in—the second, StratNewsGlobal.com started in January 2020—and I wanted to begin with a detailed interview with India’s Defence Minister. But somehow, he couldn’t find the time to sit for an hour or more. When I started breathing down his neck as the deadline neared, he said, ‘Come to Goa. We will fly back together. That way we will get two uninterrupted hours.’ So one fine day, in November 2015, we boarded his official Embraer from Dabolim airport. For the next two hours, I recorded a free-wheeling chat with him. The result: His most detailed interview ever. In fact, it was so detailed that most of what he said translated into policy one by one as the months went