P. V. Narasimha Rao

Rao’s apprenticeship for high office was unusually broad. Born in 1921 in Telangana, he studied law, joined the freedom movement, and served in the Andhra Pradesh legislature, including as Chief Minister. As a Union minister, he handled portfolios ranging from foreign affairs to home and human resource development. This portfolio fluency, together with a facility in multiple Indian languages as well as English, gave him a rare administrative range. When the 1991 elections produced a fragile mandate amid an external payments crisis and political violence, Rao—unexpectedly elevated—faced a fateful choice: delay reforms and risk default, or restructure a system that had reached exhaustion. He chose the latter. The new industrial policy dismantled most licensing, reduced protection, eased entry barriers, and sought to create a competitive environment. Trade liberalization and a managed devaluation stabilized the external account; tax reforms and financial sector changes began to reorient incentives. Rao’s management style was paradoxical: he delegated boldly yet avoided publicity, crafting coalitions bill by bill. Detractors saw opacity; admirers saw a strategist who allowed allies to own victories while he counted votes in the back room. The result was a reform sequence that survived a minority Parliament and entrenched itself across later governments of different parties. Foreign policy under Rao adapted to a post‑Soviet world. He launched the Look East policy to deepen ties with ASEAN, nurtured relations with the United States while maintaining autonomy, and managed delicate regional files with quiet persistence. Domestically, he attempted educational and administrative reforms and experimented with devolution. Yet his tenure was scarred by the demolition of the Babri Masjid in 1992 and the communal violence that followed. Critics argue he failed to prevent it; defenders note constraints and intelligence gaps. The episode remains a wound in the Republic’s memory and a painful chapter in his record. Rao’s intellectual life complicates the portrait of a pure technocrat. He translated classical works, wrote the political novel “The Insider,” and kept notes that reveal a mind that enjoyed ambiguity and metaphor even as it moved levers of state. He retired without fanfare and died in 2004, his memorialization itself a subject of political contention that has softened over time as his role in reforms has been reassessed. Today, arguments about growth, inequality, and state capacity still return to Rao’s choices. He did not finish the reform agenda, and some liberalizations stalled or lacked social cushioning. But he shifted the default from control to competition and showed that parliamentary arithmetic need not paralyze policy. For students of governance, his tenure is a case study in balancing risk and patience; for citizens, it is a reminder that quietly written rules can change everyday life as surely as loud speeches.