The 4000 odd guests seated in the forecourt of the magnificent Rashtrapati Bhavan looked on in awe as Narendra Modi, resplendent in a bright yellow half-sleeved kurta with a hand on his hip, imperious in demeanor, leonine in mien, waited for the President to administer the oath of office that would make him the political head of one-fifth of humanity.
It was reminiscent of the coronation of a Hindu chakravartin: chief ministers of various Indian states and a smattering of heads of SAARC states from the Emir of Afghanistan to the monarch of Bhutan and the President of Sri Lanka were in attendance, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the prime minister elect. The last such congregation of a galaxy of satraps had perhaps been for the investiture ceremony of the great Gupta Emperor, Samudra Gupta, in the fifth century AD. The symbolism was not lost on many: Just like emperors of yore, Narendra Damodardas Modi had conquered the hearts and minds of crores across vast swathes of India, extirpating those in the way, to claim the throne of Delhi. His power was now absolute, his authority unquestioned.
“I swear in the name of God,” President Pranab Mukherjee began and waited for the prime minister designate to respond. Narendra Modi stared back, dumbstruck. The President repeated his lines again but Modi remained silent, rivaling even the legendary Dr Manmohan Singh in sporting a pokerfaced countenance.
“I..I cannot do this, Mr President,” Modi finally muttered, “I have to heed my inner voice and….”
Modi wiped the beads of perspiration off his brow and continued, “make way for Shri Lal Krishna Advani to become the fifteenth prime minister of India.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the audience collectively gasped. Indian history was now witnessing another spectacular act of renunciation of temporal power, perhaps the most dramatic yet, in line with a fine and uniquely Indian tradition of sacrifice and self-abnegation dating back to the Buddha.
“N…Narendra…tu ne mujh pe kripa kar di, [Narendra, you have bestowed a huge favour upon me,” Advani, seated in the front row of the VVVVIP gallery, sniveled.
The remarks were quick to cloud the soon to be former prime minister designate’s eyes. “Kripaa…?” Modi wailed. “Advaniji, how can you use such a word, for the second time, in as many days? A son making way for his father is a kripa?” he managed to say before breaking down.
Recovering his composure after sipping a glass of water, Modi continued: “When Puru sacrificed his youth and forsook the kingdom for his father, Yayati, was it an act of kripa? When Gangaputra Bheeshma renounced the throne of Hastinapura so that his father could enjoy marital bliss, was he doing a favor? The BJP is like my mother, and you, sir, are like my father. I am merely doing my dharma.”
“Forgive me, Narendra,” Advani wailed. “I will not use that wretched word again. I am pleased that you are following in the great Indian tradition of self-sacrifice for the sake of elders. But…”
“But what, Advaniji? What great doubt assails you now in the moment of your triumph?” Modi queried, eyes gleaming with concern.
“What if you change your mind in a year’s time and usurp the throne from me again?” Advani wondered.
Modi calmly removed his specs, looked up at the skies, raised his hands, and proclaimed: “I, Narendra Damodardas Modi, keeping as witnesses those assembled in this august audience, hereby take the solemn oath that I renounce political office forever. I shall repair to the Himalayas to spend the rest of my mortal life in deep contemplation of the Upanishads and Brahman. If I am a true devotee of Maa Jagadambe, a true son of the BJP, a true bhakt of my mentor, Shri Lal Krishna Advani, may this undertaking come true.”
And then the rain came pouring forth as though the Gods could no longer hold back their tears. The very ground beneath the imperial Rashtrapati Bhavan seemed to shake, such was the severity of his oath. Conch shells blew in the foreground, priests showered flower petals on the figure of Narendra Modi, the latest entrant to the pantheon of great Indian monarchs who had conquered India not just politically but spiritually as well.
“Namo…Namo,” the audience now began to chant in messianic fervor. Even Lal Krishna Advani was now beholden. “Namo,” he chorused.
“Namo…Namo…Namo…..”
“Oh ji, save your enthusiasm for the actual moment,” Mrs Advani interrupted him.
“Eh? What?” Advani mumbled, snapping out of his reverie.
“Day dreaming again, uh? The oath taking ceremony is still two hours away, my dear. I know you are very happy for your protégé but I didn’t realize you felt this strongly!” Mrs Advani said.
“Yes, I feel very strongly about it,” Advani said, bursting into tears.