Letter to the Editor
Sir,
This is in reference to your coverage on Bharat Ratna awardee Atal Bihari Vajpayee, on his birth anniversary, spread over the complete newspaper dated 25 December 2025. Also, as newspapers across the country devote columns to discussions on his governance, leadership, and national direction, the memory of the late Atal Bihari Vajpayee returns, not with noise, but with a quiet insistence. He does not intrude upon public discourse; rather, he stands beside it, gently asking whether the values we debate today still resemble the values we once admired.
Atalji was never merely a Prime Minister. He was a moral presence in public life, one that believed politics could be principled, power could be restrained, and nationalism could coexist with compassion. In remembering him, it may be useful to look beyond the ceremonial tributes and reflect on the teachings he left behind, teachings that were lived more than preached.
Foremost among them was his belief in inclusiveness. Vajpayee saw India not as a monolith, but as a mosaic, held together by dialogue, accommodation, and mutual respect. His nationalism did not fear diversity; it trusted it. He believed that a nation confident in itself, does not need to constantly assert its loyalty tests. In our times, when unity is often mistaken for uniformity, Atalji’s idea of inclusiveness feels less like a political strategy and more like a civilisational ethic we are slowly forgetting.
Closely tied to this was his profound commitment to Raj Dharma. When Vajpayee spoke of Raj Dharma, he meant that governance is ultimately a moral responsibility. Authority, in his view, did not absolve one of ethical duty, it heightened it. Raj Dharma meant fairness over favour, justice over impulse, and restraint over retribution. Today, the phrase is still remembered, but its spirit seems to flicker, invoked more in memory than in practice.
Atalji’s politics was also deeply rooted in humanity. He understood that nations are not built by policies alone, but by the trust people place in their institutions. His engagement with adversaries, both within and beyond India’s borders, was guided by the belief that dialogue, however difficult, is always preferable to permanent hostility. Whether extending a hand of friendship to Pakistan or accommodating divergent voices within coalition politics, Vajpayee demonstrated that empathy is not weakness, it is confidence wearing civility.
Despite being a committed nationalist, Vajpayee never reduced nationalism to rhetoric and performance. His love for the nation was quiet, steady, and self-assured. He strengthened India’s strategic position, asserted its autonomy, and protected its interests, without turning patriotism into spectacle. For him, nationalism was not something to be constantly displayed; it was something to be responsibly exercised. In a time when national pride is often expressed in decibel rather than vision, this distinction deserves reflection.
Another of Vajpayee’s enduring teachings was grace in disagreement. Parliamentary debates during his era were marked by sharp ideas but soft edges. He could disagree firmly without demeaning others, critique policies without questioning intent, and oppose ideologies without vilifying individuals. This ability to separate ideas from identities earned him admiration across party lines. Friends respected him; adversaries trusted him. That rare respect across the aisle stands as testimony to a politics where disagreement did not automatically translate into distrust.
Equally noteworthy was his personal journey of integrity. Vajpayee’s political life was remarkably clean, not because he was untouched by power, but because he remained anchored to values. He believed institutions mattered more than individuals and credibility mattered more than convenience. He showed that leadership could be exercised without coercion and authority without intimidation. In times when public trust in politics is fragile, his example reminds us that integrity is not an ornament, it is an intrinsic virtue.
Vajpayee also practised a gentle, listening style of leadership. Coalition politics under him was not about dominance but balance. Allies were partners, not liabilities. Differences were managed through dialogue, not diktat. He understood that consensus may be slower, but it is sturdier. Today, when speed is often valued over stability, this patient approach to governance feels almost old-fashioned, yet deeply reassuring. Perhaps the most poignant lesson Atalji offers is that leadership need not be loud to be lasting. He left behind no cult of personality, no permanent outrage, no trail of bitterness. Instead, he left behind words that still soothe, decisions that still stand scrutiny, and a moral compass that still points true north, even if we no longer follow it faithfully.
Bharat Ratna Atal Bihari Vajpayee showed us that one could be firm without being harsh, decisive without being divisive, and patriotic without being performative. He believed that the strength of a nation lies not just in its borders or budgets, but in the character of its public life. As we celebrate governance and leadership in our public discourse, perhaps the most meaningful tribute to Atalji would be to pause and listen, to the silence between his words, to the restraint behind his power, and to the values he practiced without ever advertising them. In that quiet reflection, we may rediscover not just the memory of a statesman, but the measure of ourselves.
Yours etc.,
Col Bhaskar Bharti (Retd)
