Prime Minister Inder Kumar Gujral brought a whiff of fresh air to politics and governance when, in response to a newsman's query, he declared that he was a rationalist and would be guided solely by cerebral considerations. In his first address as Prime Minister, he reiterated his position further when he committed himself to upholding the values of science.

Yet, within a few days, he had to bow to pressure and change the timing of the swearing-in ceremony of his colleagues from the Tamil Maanila Congress when they insisted on a particular day and time for the ceremony which they thought would be most auspicious. Nobody knows whether the timing they finally chose was auspicious for the nation or for themselves.

As Gujral does not enjoy certain prerogatives of the post he holds like freedom in choosing a Cabinet, nobody would take this amiss. If anything, the incident underlines the extent to which superstitious beliefs have taken root in the political life of the country. This despite the Constitution eloquently enjoining upon every citizen ``to develop the scientific temper, humanism and the spirit of enquiry and reform''. It is saddening that no leader talks about cultivating a scientific bent of mind among the people.

Though Nehruvian traditions are now at a discount, Gujral is not ashamed of admitting that he is a Nehruvian by conviction. He is the first Prime Minister after Nehru who has found virtues in rationalism, as distinct from atheism. When Indira Gandhi started out as Prime Minister, she was as much known for her disdain for religion as her great father. But as she began to consolidate her position, she put a high value on an assortment of religious charlatans, including a modern-day Rasputin, who marketed a gun in the name of Lord Shiva. Again, it was during her time that an ascetic who lived on a tree had the satisfaction of putting his foot on the head of such a powerful personage as the then Home Minister. Perhaps, he chose this gesture reckoning that his disciples deserved nothing but a kick.

Rajiv Gandhi, who succeeded his mother under tragic circumstances, had such a vacuous faith that he willy-nilly became a tool in the hands of his advisers. Amazingly, he showed readiness even to exploit religion for his political purposes as underscored by the opening of the Ayodhya shrine, the shilanyas he permitted at the disputed site, and the 1989 electoral campaign he launched from the temple town with a fake Ram and Hanuman beside him on the dais. It is an altogether different matter that his tactics at hoodwinking the gullible did not succeed as the electorate was rightly exercised over his involvement in the Bofors deal.

However, the worst experience the nation had was during P.V. Narasimha Rao's tenure when tantrics and clerics of doubtful integrity had a field day. The horrendous influence Chandraswamy wielded on him is so notorious that it needs no recapitulation. But few people realise that the swamy was not the only one of his kind who was allowed to dabble in statecraft. An astrologer from Haryana, who had unlimited access to 7, Race Course Road, overnight became the most sought after practitioner of the occult. Aspirants for ministerial and other positions of power knew that a nod from the astrologer was all that was required to realise their ambition. It was much the same thought that forced a virtual who's who of Indian politics to call on Chandraswamy when he lost his temporal mother. A Marxist MP, who was caught rubbing shoulders with those waiting for the swamy's darshan, had the most ludicrous explanation to proffer: he had accidentally strayed into the crowd. In sharp contrast, most politicians avoided the same swamy like the plague when they bumped into him at the wedding of Suresh Kalmadi's daughter last week. What a chastening experience it must have been for him!

Rao's present-day troubles can, in fact, be attributed to the ill-effects of the unholy company he kept. It is not difficult to understand why those holding high positions tend to be superstitious. The higher one goes up in life, the higher the risk one faces. When a rickshaw-puller sets out on his work, he just murmurs a prayer whereas a film's muhurat is always an elaborate affair. The first time Deve Gowda became an MLA and was given a modest government accommodation, he would not have made a fuss of any vastushastra. But when he became Prime Minister by a quirk of fate, he did not mind wasting enormous sums of public money on redoing his bungalow in consultation with his spiritual advisers, who were a legion.

Similarly, when tantrics attributed the then Andhra Pradesh Chief Minister N.T. Ramarao's political and personal woes to the use of the wrong gate at the State Secretariat at Hyderabad, he had no compunction in ordering its demolition and re-construction. What an irony, within a few days of the construction of a new gate, strictly in accordance with the vastusastra specifications, NTR found himself on the streets. How could the gods, whom he sought to propitiate, have condoned his wanton misuse of public money? It is nobody's contention that those in power should give up their religious beliefs and practices. They have every right to choose any form of worship but it should not be at the cost of the public exchequer. After all, in a secular polity, religion is strictly an affair between man and God and the State has no role in it.

The huge expenditure the nation had to bear for K. Karunakaran's monthly visits to the Guruvayur temple when he was Chief Minister of Kerala and later Union Minister will never be quantified. And that reminds this writer of a visit the late P. Ramachandran, a Gandhian of impeccable credentials and a former Governor, made to Guruvayur. He was at that time Chairman of the Food Corporation of India and had gone to Kochi for an official programme. When he expressed a desire to worship at Guruvayur, the overzealous FCI officials made the necessary arrangements.

But by the time the car reached Guruvayur after a breakdown on the way, the temple gate had already been closed. The temple authorities were only too willing to open the gate for him. No, he would not go in. He construed that it was the Lord's way of expressing displeasure at him for misusing his official position. He turned back without a darshan but only to return to Guruvayur within a month by train, at his own personal expense. Where is Karunakaran, where is Ramachandran?

Copyright © 1997 Indian Express Newspapers (Bombay) Ltd.