Another sonrise

As a fun-loving youngster, he was often admonished by his watchful father. But as he grew into a young man, Jyotiraditya surprised the late Madhavrao Scindia with his academic achievements. After having assumed his father's mantle and political connections, will he be able to hold the fractious House of Scindias together, asks Kaveree Bamzai. As a young man, he was prone to driving his open-top Gypsy through the sleepy bylanes of Gwalior at 140 kmph.Sometimes, he would put a shot of whisky and rum in the colas of women who came home for dinner. And when he was younger, a boarder at Doon School, he would slip away to see his elder sister at Welham, although he'd been forbidden by his father to move about unescorted. Jyotiraditya, fondly addressed as Bal by most of his friends, sits inside Rani Mahal, surrounded by palace retainers, his father's Delhi friends, and several, often rival, political associates. It's 5 pm, time for the daily baithak at the palace. His friends from Doon School — a year his senior — gentleman farmer Jaswinder Singh and Maharaja of Baroda, Ranjit Singh Gaekwad's son, Samarjeet Singh, are around. So is his brother-in-law and Karan Singh's son, polo player Vikramaditya Singh. In another wing of the Jai Vilas Palace, an old man sits with his memories. Photographs of the family adorn the walls of his office: there's Jivajirao; his son, Madhavrao, with wife, Madhaviraje, taken in 1967, a year after their wedding; and Aryamaan, Jyotiraditya's son, immediately after his birth. Mahendra Pratap Singh, Madhavrao's private secretary in Gwalior for 35 years, says he is heart-broken. "I don't think I can work for anyone else but the late maharaja. Of course, I will be available for any advice the new maharaja may want." Inevitably, the old order is making way for the new at Rani Mahal. The fractious Scindia family, united in its grief over the loss of Madhavrao, is still at odds over Rajmata Vijayaraje's legacy. Reconciliation talks between the two sections of the family —Madhavrao on one side, and his sisters Vasundhararaje and Yeshodhararaje on the other — underway since before Vijayaraje's death have still not proved conclusive. A family split asunder, a state where the Congress has as many potentates as constituents, and Scindia investments that were largely neglected during Madhavrao's political ascendancy. Will a 30-year-old, educated for four years at Harvard, and then two years at Stanford, be able to understand the subtleties of palace politics and the angularities of Madhya Pradesh Congress heavyweights such as Digvijay Singh and Kamal Nath? "There's a drastic change in him. I can see it in his eyes. In the past two weeks I've seen him grow by 10 years. He's held himself and his family very well," says Virupaksh Kadam. Twenty-six-year-old Kadam has known Jyotiraditya since the time they would urge him to play hide and seek. Kadam would be part of a big group that would picnic and party together whenever Jyotiraditya came down to Gwalior. "The last big party I remember was on New Year's Eve, 1990. His birthday is on January 1, so it was a big day," he recalls. There were candle dances, the Durbar Hall was lit up, and everyone was in high spirits. But as always, there was Baba to watch out for. Madhavrao would invariably have someone keep an eye on Jyotiraditya. Whether it was on duck shoots when he was 12 —Jyotiraditya is a fair shot — or whether it was when he had measles. Mahesh Gandhi, Madhavrao's senior at school and on Scindia School's board of governors, remembers being sent to Doon to look up Bal. Doon was where he was sent to learn the common touch. "The late maharaja discussed it with me," says Mahendra Pratap Singh. "He didn't want his son to grow up as a maharaja, and he feared in Scindia School, set up by his family, he would. Also, he wanted him to be away from all the family's legal hassles." At Doon, according to his housemaster (and later deputy headmaster) Sheel Vohra, he fitted in beautifully, though despite his father's best efforts, he could never take to cricket. And though he didn't do very well in his ISC examination and only made it to a pass course at St Stephen's College, he worked very hard to go to Harvard. "His father wanted him to take his route — go to Winchester and then NewCollege, Oxford. But Jyotiraditya wanted to be independent. In fact, after he got into Stanford (from where he returned with an MBA only a few months ago) his father called me up to complain good-naturedly that he didn't even tell me," says Vohra. Jyotiraditya's independence has often been interpreted as arrogance. Ask anyone about the 1998 Parliamentary election from Gwalior that Jyotiraditya handled partially for his father and "arrogant and blunt" are words most bandied about. Scindia family lawyer Abhishek Manu Singhvi is quick to defend him. "He's not a politician. It's easy to mistake his candour and forthrightness." More recent events would suggest that he is learning. AICC member Ajay Rathore from Indore recounts his experience of two months ago when Madhavrao had sent his son to Ujjain for a pooja. "He sat on the floor with us, ate our food and talked our language. He told us he learnt to rough it out in the US," he says. Sometimes, of course, his temper has been justified. Old-timers at the palace recall the funeral of Vijayaraje nine months ago — and how he shooed away her close associate Sardar Bal Angre. His father admonished him. Even enemies were to be treated with respect, he said. That was the Scindia tradition. Madhya Pradesh chief minister Digvijay Singh who was with Jyotiraditya almost through the official mourning period testifies to his new calmness: "He has taken it bravely. He has kept his cool." And if he steps into politics? "I think he should. And we'll be very happy to support him." Even Singhvi sees him in politics in the foreseeable future. As does Balendu Shukla, former Congress MLA and Madhavrao's friend from their days at Scindia School. "For the past two months, his father was grooming him politically. He's young but I wish him well." Certainly, the way he handled his father's death speaks of an easy maturity. He flew down from Mumbai, where he was staying at his quarters at Samudra Mahal with wife Priyadarshini and son, and within a few hours he was in New Delhi, in control, organising the schedule, co-ordinating the travel plan of guests, and receiving a constant stream of visitors. His marriage in 1994 to Welham-educated Priyadarshini has done much to take the edge off his mischievousness. A palace insider recalls how he met his match in Priyadarshini certainly when it came to speed: when they were courting, they would race each other, he in his Tata Sierra, she in her Esteem. She would win. Now, as the new maharaja comes to terms with life without his father, Bhupendra Singh sits in the hall waiting for an audience. The 77-year-old would ferry Jyotiraditya and his elder sister Chitrangada to their school from the 27th floor of Samudra Mahal, and back home again, into the care of their Goan nurse Betty Castelinho and their maternal grandmother Indira Devi. It's time for him to rewind. "The brother and sister were content to play by themselves. At the most, they would go for a drive in the evening," he says. For Jyotiraditya Scindia, that little world of privileged isolation must now seem like a dream.