In the annals of political faux pas, Mitt Romney’s infamous ‘47%’ comment or Hillary Clinton branding Trump supporters as ‘deplorables’ stand out as classic cases of plain speaking gone horribly wrong—instances where opponents easily cast them as out-of-touch elitists. But perhaps no self-goal in Indian politics has been as monumental as Mani Shankar Aiyar’s 2014 ‘chaiwala’ jibe at then-Gujarat Chief Minister Narendra Modi. Modi may well have ascended to the Prime Ministership without that gaffe, but Aiyar’s ill-timed comment ensured that the crumbling edifice of UPA-2 was buried six feet under. Narendra Modi, who had always sought to play on the theme of the entitled versus the commoner, lapped up the ‘chaiwala’ moniker like a fish to water.
If that was not enough, Aiyar repeated history just a few years later, once again helping PM Modi secure his home turf. In 2017, as the BJP grappled with anti-incumbency, the Patel agitation, and Dalit uprisings in Gujarat, Aiyar’s ‘neech aadmi’ remark gifted Modi the perfect opportunity to reframe the election as a question of Gujarati asmita (pride). The result? A last-minute consolidation of core voters, allowing the BJP to scrape through in a tough contest. A red-faced Congress suspended Aiyar, but the damage was already done.
While that may have been the formal break between Aiyar and the Congress, the former Union minister has continued to embarrass the party. The latest episode? A backhanded compliment to Rajiv Gandhi, where Aiyar, in his characteristic bluntness, detailed how the former Prime Minister had flunked at Cambridge and later at Imperial College, London. It provided fresh ammunition to the BJP, all too keen to puncture the image of the technocratic PM, who has been widely hailed for bringing the first wave of the IT revolution to the country.
Furious Congress leaders wasted no time in denouncing Aiyar—Maharashtra’s Nana Patole labelled him “mentally unstable,” Harish Khare called him “frustrated,” and former Rajasthan CM Ashok Gehlot dismissed him as sarfira (crazy).
Whether Aiyar is crazy or simply unfiltered remains up for debate. What is clear, however, is his unwavering desire for validation from the Gandhis. Despite the controversy, he expressed hope that Rahul Gandhi would take notice of him. Ironically, it was Rahul himself who, during an AICC session in 2014, praised Aiyar’s role in solidifying the Panchayati Raj system. In 2004, Rahul had apparently told Aiyar’s wife that he would always listen to the ex-bureaucrat because his father trusted Mani. Yet, Aiyar himself admits that in all these years, he has had only one meaningful conversation with Rahul and just two with Priyanka. He claims he has long been ready to mentor Rahul, but that the Congress leader seems averse to taking his advice, likely due to his age. He even goes on to say that Rahul Gandhi probably despises him, even though Aiyar maintains that his relationship with the Gandhis remains intact!
Aiyar’s connection with the Gandhis, however, is indisputable. He was one of Rajiv Gandhi’s closest aides, serving as his joint secretary, and has extensively chronicled his legacy. Even last year, he published a book arguing that Rajiv Gandhi remains one of India’s most misunderstood Prime Ministers. Aiyar’s loyalty to Rajiv appears unquestionable, making it unlikely that he intended to damage his legacy. Instead, his real problem is that he is a relic of a bygone political era—one in which intellectual acerbity was tolerated, if not encouraged.
In today’s reels-obsessed generation with decreasing attention spans, where media organisations are fishing for viral outrage, Aiyar’s verbose, long-winded explanations of his ideals leave too many loose ends. Even though the Overton window has shifted with the BJP being in power for over a decade, Aiyar has held onto his pacifist ideals and commitment to secularism. Thus, the man who embarked on a Ram-Rahim Yatra during the Ayodhya movement and accused then-PM Narasimha Rao of parroting the BJP’s line on Hinduism faced brutal public pushback when he said Modi must be removed to improve Indo-Pak relations. Similarly, his attempt to explain the reason behind the Charlie Hebdo attack also led to controversy. Perhaps a simple condemnation without qualifiers would have been easier, but then, it wouldn’t have been Mani Aiyar.
In today’s world, political correctness reigns supreme. Aiyar’s brand of public discourse—witty yet sharp, opinionated yet unfiltered—has long since expired. His comments, mocking Hansraj College with his elite Stephanian pedigree, his dyed-in-the-wool liberal stance regarding what he believed were ‘alleged’ Chinese incursions, his opposition to nuclear weapons, and his resistance to liberalisation, are now seen as political liabilities rather than intellectual contributions.
Even as sports minister, he went against the tide, opposing India’s hosting of the Commonwealth Games, describing them as a colossal waste of money.
It is a testament to his political gumption that he managed to win three elections from Mayiladuthurai (1991, 1999, and 2004). It is no mean feat for a person born in Lahore, schooled at Doon and Welham’s, later attending St. Stephen’s and Cambridge, to also find acceptance with the electorate despite his anglicised persona. In 2010, he made it to the Rajya Sabha, but his relationship with the Congress leadership gradually soured, leaving him out in the cold.
In another political system—perhaps in the US—Aiyar, a self-proclaimed ‘secular fundamentalist,’ might have found space as India’s equivalent of Bernie Sanders or Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, a left-liberal figure leading an ideological movement. But in India, where political pragmatism trumps ideological rigidity, he stuck out like a sore thumb. A more strategic Congress leadership could have harnessed Aiyar’s intellect and commitment to rural empowerment to craft an alternative policy vision, challenging the ruling government’s policies. As an IFS officer, he served in Pakistan and was the first consul general of India in Karachi. His insights could have been leveraged to shape opposition’s foreign policy towards India’s neighbourhood. Instead, he has been relegated to a running meme—a political grenade who periodically explodes, causing maximum collateral damage to his own party.
In many ways, his trajectory mirrors that of Sam Pitroda, another Congress veteran known for his verbal misadventures. But unlike Pitroda, who still enjoys official roles in the Congress, Aiyar remains an outsider, waiting for his next moment of unfiltered candour.
Perhaps the world is simply not ready for another Mani Shankar Aiyar. Or perhaps, just maybe, Aiyar has outlived his political relevance—a man out of sync with his time, clinging to an era that no longer exists. In some ways, the Congress, despite all its grandstanding about being a melting pot of ideas, failed to accommodate Aiyar. Another man who does not shy away from speaking his own mind—a diplomat-turned-politician who runs his own successful campaign—Shashi Tharoor, may end up sharing Aiyar’s fate if he does not play by the rules.