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By:

Kiran D. Tare

21 August 2024 at 11:23:13 am

Bengal’s Ludwig Erhard

For decades, Swapan Dasgupta made a career of diagnosing India’s political ailments. As a columnist, editor, author and public intellectual, the erudite and scintillating Dasgupta dissected challenged orthodoxies and defended the intellectual traditions of the Indian Right. However, following his new appointment as the new Finance Minister of a West Bengal in economic doldrums, he perhaps faces the most demanding assignment of his career. His supporters however are confident that if there is...

Bengal’s Ludwig Erhard

For decades, Swapan Dasgupta made a career of diagnosing India’s political ailments. As a columnist, editor, author and public intellectual, the erudite and scintillating Dasgupta dissected challenged orthodoxies and defended the intellectual traditions of the Indian Right. However, following his new appointment as the new Finance Minister of a West Bengal in economic doldrums, he perhaps faces the most demanding assignment of his career. His supporters however are confident that if there is anyone most suited to sort out Bengal’s messy economy, it is Dasgupta. His appointment following the Bharatiya Janata Party’s ascent to power in Bengal after overthrowing Mamata Banerjee’s TMC regime is among the more intriguing political transitions in recent Indian political memory. India has seen journalists cross into politics before. M.J. Akbar moved from the newsroom to the Ministry of External Affairs. Arun Shourie, one of India’s most formidable investigative journalists, became a reform-minded minister in Atal Bihari Vajpayee’s government. Others, from Manish Sisodia to Priya Ranjan Dasmunsi and Chandan Mitra, have made similar journeys. Yet Dasgupta’s case is distinctive. Unlike many journalists-turned-politicians, he was never merely a ‘reporter.’ Whether in debate or through his prolific and trenchant writings, he has always been an intellectual combatant, a scholar of political ideas with a sweeping knowledge of world history by which he leavens those ideas. Dasgupta has always been one of the most articulate exponents of modern Indian conservatism. Educated at La Martiniere College in Kolkata, St Stephen’s College in Delhi and later the School of Oriental and African Studies in London, where he earned a doctorate, Dasgupta cultivated a reputation for formidable scholarship. His books, including Awakening Bharat Mata: The Political Beliefs of the Indian Right and The Ayodhya Reference, revealed an uncommon ability to place contemporary political disputes within a broader historical and ideological framework. For his supporters, he was among the few intellectuals capable of articulating conservative ideas in a language usually dominated by the Left. To critics, he was a sophisticated polemicist. Yet, even his opponents seldom questioned the breadth of his reading or the sharpness of his arguments. However, the challenge facing Dasgupta now is no longer intellectual but administrative. The Bengal he inherits bears little resemblance to the state that once led India in industry, commerce and scientific innovation. As he himself quipped in trademark fashion with a sharp historical analogy, the state’s economy resembled postwar Germany. The figures are sobering. West Bengal’s state debt has ballooned to around Rs. 8 lakh crore during the TMC regime. Thousands of companies have relocated or curtailed operations over the years amid a hostile investment climate. The new BJP government has inherited not merely a fiscal challenge but a crisis of confidence. “We are left with a near-bankrupt treasury,” Dasgupta said. Equally troubling, in his view, is the erosion of trust among investors and entrepreneurs. Bengal’s relationship with business has been uneasy to say the least. First the long night of the Left, followed by the TMC’s anti-business, appeasement brand of politics has ensured that the scars of industrial disputes and land controversies remain fresh. In this dire situation, reviving private investment will require convincing businesses that Bengal has changed. In this respect, Dasgupta’s strengths may prove unexpectedly useful. Throughout his career he displayed an ability to engage with ideas, institutions and stakeholders across ideological divides. His early moves hint at a broader vision. Rather than confining pre-budget consultations to Kolkata, Dasgupta shifted the Finance Department’s attention to Siliguri in a moved suffused with deliberate symbolism. North Bengal has long complained of neglect by governments centred on the state’s southern districts. By engaging tea producers, agricultural interests, tourism operators and local business groups, the newly-minted finance minister appears eager to demonstrate that economic revival will not just be a Kolkata-centric project. That said, debt servicing consumes a substantial portion of state revenues. Welfare commitments are politically difficult to unwind and infrastructure deficits remain significant. While public intellectuals excel at identifying problems, governing demands compromises and the acceptance of imperfect solutions. Still, Bengal’s new finance minister possesses as fine an appreciation of history than any Indian politician around. He knows that states decline not just because economic mistakes but because they lose faith in their future. Restoring that confidence may be the central task of his tenure. For years Swapan Dasgupta chronicled India’s political story from the sidelines. Now he finds himself at the centre of one of its most consequential state-level experiments. Whatever the outcome of his tenure, few would deny that Bengal’s finances have acquired perhaps their most learned custodian in decades.

Asha: The Hope That Will Never Fade

Asha Tai’s singing held intensity, grace, playfulness and rebellion. It was full of longing, mischief, boldness, and the restless spirit of life itself.

I will deeply miss Asha Tai. Yet I know her songs—deeply and personally. They remain with me; they have not gone anywhere, and they never will. Those songs are my only connection with her, and that connection is eternal. I have lived with them, grown with them, and leaned on them through every phase of life. I listen to them every day, and I always will. In that sense, I have no reason to miss Asha Tai. She lives on in every note, every word, and every emotion she gave us.


I met her only twice, and both encounters were fleeting—just enough for a quiet namaste. Once in Dubai and once at Shanmukhananda Hall. Yet those brief moments meant a great deal to me.


Over 25 years in the tourism industry have taken me across countless destinations in India and around the world. The journey has brought immense joy, unforgettable memories, and deep fulfilment. Yet, like every long journey, it has not always been easy.


There have been moments of discomfort and unexpected challenges that tested patience and resilience. Managing large groups means handling different personalities, varied expectations, and situations unfolding at once. Sudden weather changes and unforeseen disruptions demand calmness, clarity, and balanced decisions. Over the years, I have learned that this quiet strength and presence of mind define the journey.


There are moments when body and mind feel exhausted. In such times, I turn to what has always sustained me—music. The timeless voices of Asha Tai, Lata Didi, Kishore Da and Rafi Sahab have been my constant companions since childhood and remain inseparable from my emotional world.


I still remember the days of Vividh Bharati, when music filled our home with warmth. My mother would bring cassettes, and we would listen for hours. We made song lists for different moods and listened without interruption—no distractions, no noise, just pure music. Those 90-minute cassettes, whether during chores or on long drives, carried a quiet, lasting joy.


Time changed, technology evolved, and the internet brought music to our fingertips. Today, platforms like YouTube and Amazon Prime Music make it easy to revisit those melodies anytime. Yet the feeling they evoke remains unchanged—timeless and deeply comforting.


As I began travelling extensively, this bond with music grew stronger. After long, tiring days in unfamiliar places, when silence finally settles in, I return to these songs. I let them play softly beside me, my phone near my pillow, as I drift into sleep.


In those quiet moments, it feels as though my mother is gently patting my head and singing me a lullaby. That feeling carries a warmth and belonging no distance or exhaustion can take away.


And then comes the morning.


Each new day begins with fresh energy and hope. As I step out, these songs walk beside me once again. The melodies of Asha Tai, Lata Didi and other legends of that golden era fill me with positivity and quiet strength. Their music uplifts the spirit, calms the mind, and prepares the heart for the day ahead. Whether soft and soulful or vibrant and playful, each song resonates deeply within.


These songs are more than music to me. They are comfort in chaos, energy in stillness, memories of the past, and strength for the present. They are home.


It has been an enchanting journey through music—one that continues to unfold with time.


As Raj ji beautifully said, Asha Tai and Lata Didi were like Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo of Indian film music. If Lata Didi’s voice carried perfection, stillness, and quiet spiritual depth, Asha Tai’s singing held intensity, grace, playfulness, and rebellion. It was full of longing, mischief, boldness, and the restless spirit of life itself.


At just 15, she began supporting her family with nothing but her God-given voice. Life tested her early, but she turned every struggle into strength—and that courage became part of her music.


In “Piya Tu Ab To Aaja”, there is bold desire. In “Aaiye Meherbaan”, there is charm. In “Dil Cheez Kya Hai”, there is grace. In “Dum Maro Dum”, there is rebellion. And in “Mage Ubha Mangesh”, there is devotion that touches the soul. That is why Asha Tai always felt deeply human—and so close to the heart.


A few years ago, Didi left us. And recently, Asha Tai too has gone. With her passing, it feels as though the last great pillar of that golden era has fallen silent. And yet, her music still plays. Which is why she never truly leaves.


(The writer is a tourism professional and runs a company, Global Voyages. She could be contacted at goglobalvoyages@gmail.com. Views personal.)


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