Law Kumar Mishra | Team TrickyScribe: After the Babri Masjid demolition, the Centre dismissed several state governments, including Rajasthan’s. Amid President’s Rule, elections were announced in 1993. Bhairon Singh Shekhawat, already a two-time Chief Minister, led the BJP into battle. When results emerged, no party had a clear majority. But Shekhawat garnered support from 10 independents, giving BJP the edge.
Meanwhile, senior Congress leaders—Pranab Mukherjee, Bhajan Lal, Ahmed Patel, and Priya Ranjan Dasmunsi—camped at a luxury hotel in Jaipur. Gujarat’s former Home Minister Prabodh Rawal stayed in a guesthouse nearby, closely watched by Haryana Police. I was stationed in another guest house, familiar with Prabodh Bhai from my stint at The Times of India in Ahmedabad, and often had breakfast with him in a room stacked with cash-filled boxes.
The Standoff on Raj Bhavan’s Lawns
Former CM Hardev Joshi hosted Congress legislators and leaders at his farmhouse on Ajmer Road. A week passed without government formation. BJP’s frustration boiled over. LK Advani flew into Jaipur and joined Shekhawat in leading a symbolic march of BJP MLAs to Raj Bhavan, where they squatted on the lawns.
Governor Baliram Bhagat, a former Lok Sabha Speaker, called in Advani and Shekhawat. After a fruitless meeting, Shekhawat, in his signature irreverent tone, told the elderly Governor: “You must think about it. One foot is already in the grave—what will you tell your maker?”
The Governor promptly called PM P. V. Narasimha Rao, who admitted Congress had made no claim. Bhagat was instructed to invite Shekhawat to form the government.
‘I Am Still the CM… Just on Leave’
The next morning, Shekhawat was sworn in. Over a modest lunch with journalists and independents at BJP headquarters, he reminded me of a statement he’d made during campaigning: “I am still the Chief Minister, just on leave. I will rejoin soon!”
On the day of his return, even before the official swearing-in, the Jaipur police wireless crackled with a message: “The CM Sahib is on his way.” When asked about it, Shekhawat quipped, “The message is correct. I’m the CM on leave.”
‘Where is the CM Sahib?’
On another occasion, Shekhawat was en route to Sanganer Airport via Tonk Road. An agitated Additional SP kept calling for the convoy’s location over wireless. In typical Shekhawat fashion, he broke the silence by saying: “Why don’t you inform me, you idiot? Where is the CM Sahib?”
Later, at a public event, the same officer saluted him. Shekhawat responded with a wink: “Your idiot CM Sahib is here.” The puzzled officer didn’t get the joke. Shekhawat later told the press, “Even in my car, I hear the wireless chatter.”
No Compromise on Terror
In 1995, Harendra Mirdha, son of Congress leader Ramnivas Mirdha, was kidnapped by Khalistani militants while strolling through Jaipur’s C-Scheme. The abductors demanded the release of Devinder Singh Kullar, jailed in Punjab.
I reported in The Times of India that Mirdha was likely being held near Jaipur. Shekhawat summoned me, visibly upset: “You’ve ruined my operation. They must’ve moved him now.”
Ten days later, police captured terrorist Navneet Singh Kandia during a routine check in Mansarovar’s Model Town. They seized ₹77 lakh and AK-47 rifles—and rescued Mirdha. The case led to a life sentence for Harminder Singh.
Shekhawat had flatly refused to entertain the terrorists’ demands. He valued national security above political consequences.
A CM Who Checked In On Journalists
Shekhawat wasn’t just firm—he was human. Known to check on journalists if they hadn’t been seen for a while, he once overheard a New Delhi-based woman reporter complaining to his media advisor K.L. Kochar that she’d been unable to meet the CM for three days.
Just then, Shekhawat appeared and said: “I am here!”
Wit with a Sting: “From Criminal Tribe to DGP”
When Kishori Lal Meena succeeded KN Thakur as Rajasthan’s DGP, Shekhawat attended a reception at the Meena Students Hostel. In trademark style, he said: “The Britishers had classified Meenas as a criminal tribe. I hope the new DGP will liquidate all the criminals.”
The gathering burst into laughter.
Road to Bahrod with Atal Ji—and Pakoras
Shekhawat shared a warm camaraderie with Atal Bihari Vajpayee. Once, both leaders traveled by road to Bahrod for an election meeting at the local high school. The crowd was thin, so the hosts served varieties of pakoras at a highway dhaba.
After an hour, Vajpayee turned to Shekhawat and said with his poetic optimism:
“Chalo, paanch hazaar bhi hai to achha… log aate jaayenge.(Even five thousand is good… the crowd will build up.)”
The Legacy of a Statesman
Bhairon Singh Shekhawat embodied governance with grit and grace. Whether handling a Governor’s hesitation, a terrorist threat, or a thin crowd with humility and humor, he left an imprint that remains unmatched. Rajasthan didn’t just have a Chief Minister in him—it had a true people’s leader who could handle crisis, crack a joke, and still win hearts.
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