I, Witness Book Review: Shahid Siddiqui’s Journey Through India’s Politics from Nehru to Modi

Harsh Agrawal
Sep 23
10 min read

I, Witness: India from Nehru to Narendra Modi

Author: Shahid Siddique

Published by Rupa Publications

Genre: Political Memoir

Pages: 448

MRP:Rs. 795/-

Purchase Link: https://amzn.to/3VseGdw

Thank you Rupa Publications for a review copy of the book.

Introduction

Every once in a while, a political memoir emerges that is less about the author and more about the country itself. Shahid Siddiqui’s I, Witness: India from Nehru to Narendra Modi is precisely that kind of book. It is the story of a man who, born on the very day India awoke to freedom in 1947, grew up not merely watching but also participating in the great churn of the republic. As a journalist, politician, and chronicler of his times, Siddiqui has had a ringside view of events that shaped India’s destiny - Partition’s shadow, the rise and fall of Nehruvian socialism, the traumas of Emergency, the decline of Congress, the tectonic impact of Ayodhya, and the ascent of Narendra Modi.

For readers who care about India’s journey , whether they lean left, right, or stand somewhere in the center , this memoir offers anecdotes, emotions, and historical recollections. Yet it is best appreciated through a centrist-right lens, one that respects the democratic traditions of India, acknowledges the positive contributions of leaders across the spectrum, but refuses to be seduced by the hollow claims of secular moralism that have too often been weaponized by dynasties and entrenched elites.

Siddiqui writes with warmth and sincerity, and his book is a testament to his love for the country. But as with any memoir, it is colored by his ideological leanings. For those of us who stand firmly in favor of national unity, accountability, and balance between tradition and modernity, the value of I, Witness lies in its rich recollections of history, its candid portraits of leaders, and the lessons it leaves for the future.

Partition and the Fragile Dream of Secular India

Siddiqui begins with Partition, and rightly so. He recalls that before 1947, Hindu and Muslim families lived in close harmony, sharing homes during festivals, celebrating together, and building communities that transcended religious differences. That fabric, he laments, was torn apart by Partition’s bloodshed. His own family, loyal to Gandhi’s promise of a secular India, chose Delhi over Lahore, embracing uncertainty to remain part of the Indian republic.

This personal testimony is moving. Partition was a cataclysm that scarred both Hindus and Muslims alike. Millions were uprooted, thousands perished, and trust between communities was shattered. Siddiqui’s reflections remind us that secular coexistence was once a lived reality, not merely a constitutional slogan.

Yet, in his narration, one also senses a selective emphasis. While he highlights Muslim suffering and dislocation, less is said about the trauma of Hindus and Sikhs who were cleansed from Pakistan. A truly balanced account of Partition must recognize that every community bled. Still, his insistence that Indians, in moments of crisis, have cast aside their divisions to rediscover unity is a message worth cherishing. It affirms what centrists hold dear: that the strength of India lies not in erasing differences, but in transcending them when the nation’s survival is at stake.

Nehru and Shastri : Builders with Flaws

Siddiqui’s narrative of independent India’s first decades centers around Jawaharlal Nehru and Lal Bahadur Shastri. He acknowledges Nehru as a visionary who established institutions of science, diplomacy, and democracy. Yet he also points out Nehru’s flaws : an over-centralized economy that stagnated growth, and the disastrous miscalculations of 1962 against China.

Here, Siddiqui is refreshingly candid. He avoids the hagiographic tone that Congress loyalists often adopt and instead portrays Nehru as a human leader, fallible and well-intentioned, who nevertheless left India militarily vulnerable. For readers who are right-leaning centrists like me, this is welcome honesty. Nehru’s legacy must be judged in full: he laid strong democratic foundations but left behind structural weaknesses that others had to repair.

On Shastri, Siddiqui is generous. He calls attention to the integrity and humility of the man who coined “Jai Jawan, Jai Kisan” - a slogan that still resonates. Shastri embodied the Gandhian spirit of simplicity while showing grit during the 1965 war. Siddiqui’s admiration for him is entirely justified. Shastri remains a symbol of leadership rooted in ethics rather than dynasty or ideology.

Indira Gandhi and the Dark Night of Emergency

The chapter on Indira Gandhi is among the most riveting in Siddiqui’s memoir. He recounts the excesses of the Emergency - censorship, arrests, the silencing of dissent, and his own father’s imprisonment. For someone who grew up believing in the promises of secular democracy, the betrayal was profound.

The Emergency was the darkest chapter in post-independence India, a moment when constitutional liberties were suspended at the whim of one leader. Siddiqui’s personal anguish gives his narrative authenticity, and his condemnation of the period aligns with the centrist conviction that no political power can be allowed to trample democracy.

Yet, even as he criticizes Indira, Siddiqui acknowledges her charisma and her ability to connect with the masses. This duality is important: she was both a populist icon and an authoritarian. The lesson is clear - democracy cannot be entrusted to individuals alone. It must rest on institutions, checks, and balances. Indira’s reign serves as a cautionary tale against concentrated power, something that resonates strongly even today.

Rajiv Gandhi - Tragedy and Missed Opportunities

Siddiqui offers deeply personal insights into Rajiv Gandhi. He describes being present at 10 Janpath on the night Sonia Gandhi received news of Rajiv’s assassination. The image of a 19-year-old Priyanka Gandhi taking charge while Sonia collapsed in grief is etched in his memory. It is a poignant reminder that politics in India is not just about policies but also about families caught in history’s merciless tide.

Rajiv’s legacy, however, was mixed. He brought hope of modernization and computerization, yet his tenure was tainted by Bofors and the cynical reversal of Shah Bano. Siddiqui touches upon these contradictions. Rajiv epitomizes wasted potential. He could have transformed India but instead faltered, trapped between modernity and appeasement.

Siddiqui also suggests there was a “deep-seated conspiracy” behind Rajiv’s assassination. Here we must tread carefully. While conspiracy theories abound, history records the LTTE’s role as decisive. Siddiqui’s suggestion of hidden hands feels speculative. This approach demands evidence, not insinuation. Nonetheless, his personal recollections make this section emotionally powerful.

The Decline of Congress and the Rise of Coalitions

The 1990s marked the fragmentation of Indian politics. Siddiqui recounts colorful anecdotes - Amar Singh’s flamboyance, Bollywood’s dalliance with politics, and the chaos of coalition governments. These stories add flavor but also underline a serious truth: Congress’s monopoly was over, and the vacuum it left was filled by opportunistic alliances and caste-based mobilization.

From my viewpoint, this was a necessary churn. The decline of Congress exposed the hollowness of dynasty politics and opened space for genuine alternatives. Siddiqui, however, seems nostalgic for Congress’s secular aura. He worries that with its decline, India’s plural ethos weakened. This is only partly true. In reality, Congress undermined secularism through opportunism - whether in Shah Bano, the opening of Babri locks, or the mismanagement of Punjab. If anything, Congress’s fall was the consequence of its own contradictions.

Ayodhya and the BJP’s Emergence

Siddiqui frames the BJP’s rise as emerging “from the womb of the Ayodhya tragedy.” His words carry sorrow, for as a Muslim, Ayodhya symbolized a deep wound. He sees the demolition of Babri Masjid in 1992 as a betrayal of secular India.

There is no denying that Ayodhya was traumatic. The demolition should not have occurred outside the framework of law. Yet to view Ayodhya merely as a tragedy is to miss its broader meaning. For millions of Hindus, it represented long-suppressed civilizational memory. My stance on this recognizes both realities: the illegality of mob action and the legitimacy of historical grievance.

Siddiqui does not dismiss BJP leaders entirely. His interviews with Vajpayee reveal respect for a man who sought reconciliation even while advancing Hindutva’s cause. But the undertone of unease remains. However, the rise of the BJP was not just about religion, it was about an India tired of dynasties and yearning for leaders who spoke unapologetically of pride, development, and security.

Vajpayee – A Statesman Above Politics

If there is one leader who bridges Siddiqui’s secular hopes and the centrist-right’s nationalist vision, it is Atal Bihari Vajpayee. Siddiqui’s admiration for Vajpayee is evident. He notes his poetic grace, his inclusive cabinet, his boldness in conducting nuclear tests, and his restraint during Kargil.

Vajpayee proved that a BJP prime minister could command respect across communities. He was firm on national security but also open to dialogue with Pakistan. Vajpayee is a model - a man who combined cultural rootedness with democratic openness. Siddiqui captures this spirit, though he frames Vajpayee’s fall in 2004 as tragic. Indeed, it was less a rejection of his leadership than a quirk of coalition arithmetic.

Narendra Modi - Controversy and Transformation

The final chapters focus on Narendra Modi, and here Siddiqui’s narrative is most contested. He recalls his 2012 interview with Modi, where he pressed him on the 2002 riots. Modi’s retort — “If I am guilty, hang me” — was searing. Siddiqui insists Modi should have apologized, drawing parallels with Rajiv Gandhi and others who expressed regret for 1984.

This demand misses the point. Accountability is delivered by courts, not by public rituals of apology. Modi was cleared by India’s judiciary. To insist on an apology despite acquittal is to conflate morality with legality. More importantly, Modi’s real legacy lies not in 2002 but in his ability to deliver governance, infrastructure, welfare schemes, and international stature for India.

To Siddiqui’s credit, he does not demonize Modi. He acknowledges that every prime minister has contributed to nation-building. He notes Modi’s outreach to Muslims in 2012, urging them not to remain mere vote banks but to pursue dreams through education and enterprise. This, ironically, echoes Siddiqui’s own mantra: “Be better, and you will get your rights.”

Modi represents continuity with India’s nationalist tradition, tempered by democratic mandate. Siddiqui’s hesitation is understandable given his background, but even he cannot deny the transformative impact of Modi’s tenure.

Journalism, Memory, and Narrative Style

What makes I, Witness engaging is not its ideological arguments but its anecdotes. Siddiqui was there - in 10 Janpath the night Rajiv died, in Gujarat interviewing Modi, in the drawing rooms of socialist stalwarts. His claim that he “wrote only what he personally witnessed” lends authenticity, even if memory is fallible.

The style is warm, anecdotal, and often poetic. He avoids jargon, making the book accessible to general readers. Yet one must be cautious. Personal recollections, however vivid, cannot substitute for hard evidence. At times, Siddiqui hints at conspiracies without substantiation. The reader should enjoy the stories but distinguish between history and hearsay.

The Ideological Thread

The ideological thread running through I, Witness is clear: Siddiqui is a secular nationalist, wary of majoritarian politics, yet unwilling to embrace victimhood. He urges Muslims to focus on education and empowerment rather than grievance. This is a message I personally can wholeheartedly support.

Where he falters is in clinging to the old Congress myth that secularism was its exclusive gift to India. History shows otherwise. Secularism thrived not because of dynasties but because ordinary Indians valued coexistence. BJP’s rise did not destroy secularism; it redefined it by demanding accountability from all communities.

Siddiqui’s memoir, then, is best read not as gospel but as testimony - one man’s earnest attempt to preserve memory before it fades.

Conclusion

I, Witness is a good contribution to India’s political literature. It spans seven decades, dozens of leaders, and countless turning points. Through Siddiqui’s eyes, we see India scarred by Partition, bruised by Emergency, shaken by riots, but ultimately unbroken. His anecdotes humanize titans, his warmth softens critiques, and his secular faith anchors the narrative.

For those who believe in democracy, accountability, and unity in diversity, this memoir offers both inspiration and debate. It reminds us that India is greater than any leader, party, or ideology. Every prime minister - from Nehru to Modi - has left a mark, for better or worse. And through it all, the Indian people have endured, adapting, and affirming the nation’s democratic experiment.

In the end, Siddiqui’s book is less about him than about us - the citizens of a republic still searching for balance between memory and hope, faith and reason, tradition and modernity. For that reason alone, I, Witness deserves to be read widely, debated honestly, and remembered gratefully.

Key Excerpts & Annotations

“Still, India wouldn’t have been a secular nation, with the most ground-breaking Constitution in the world, without the open, Vedantic and all-embracing attitude of the Hindus.” (p. xiii)
“If the Muslim Kashmir valley was not part of India, we would succumb to the two-nation theory, and India would become a Hindu Rashtra.” (p. 23)
“After 27 May 1964, India was suddenly without a leader… Nehru symbolized India’s unity in diversity. Overnight, there was a huge vacuum with no one knowing where we would go.” (p. 31)
“Every Muslim was looked upon with suspicion… Those were the most traumatic days of my life.” (p. 39)
“As the atrocities of the Emergency escalated, we defied censorship… He gave me the strength to take a stand when the most powerful around us had surrendered without a fight.” (p. 54)
“She believed she was not merely saving her government, but saving the nation itself. Anything or anyone who stood in the way of her beloved Hindustan had to be crushed.” (p. 55)
“Here again, we saw the PM, a thorough statesman, rise above mundane politics and try to heal the nation. He openly rebuked Gujarat’s chief minister Narendra Modi, and publicly reminded him of Raj Dharma.” (p. 231)
“Yashwant Sinha… revealed that Vajpayee regretted not forcing Modi to resign. Sinha believed this was Vajpayee’s biggest mistake.” (p. 266)
“‘If my government was responsible for the riots, hang me at the public square… I should be punished so much that no ruler dares commit such a sin for the next hundred years.’” – Modi, 2004 interview (p. 267)
“Why don’t you write that for the last 10 years, we have been doing injustice to Modi, we should apologize to Modi?” (p. 267)
“My first question to Modi was, How do you see India in the next 50 years? Do you want India to be a Hindu rashtra?” (p. 257)
“Those people who are teaching secularism to India are insulting our nation. India has always been secular because Hindus are secular.” – Modi (p. 269–270)
“‘Akhand Bharat ke naam se aapke munh main paani aa raha hai’ (You are salivating at the mention of Akhand Bharat).” – Modi (p. 270)
“He understands mass psychology even better than Mahatma Gandhi or Indira Gandhi could.” (p. 287)
“Elections are won or lost on sentiments, not good work. If good work were the criterion, Sheila Dikshit would never have lost.” – Amit Shah (p. 281)
“Indian politics is full of wheeler-dealers, manipulators, fixers and go-getters. Still, Delhi hasn’t seen a more colourful character than Amar Singh.” (p. 287)
“Many Hindu organizations are actively encouraging and inducing Muslim girls to marry Hindu boys, while attacking interfaith marriages in the name of ‘love jihad’.” (p. 335)
“Bhagwat was born on 11 September 1950, and Narendra Modi on 17 September 1950… One cannot help but wonder: would Prime Minister Modi do the same?” (p. 336)
“He was a man with strong views and a profound sense of history. He was a leader in the true Nehruvian sense, who strongly believed in a secular society and inclusive politics.” – on H.N. Bahuguna (p. 337)
“Narendra Modi understood the importance of UP and shifted his base to Varanasi to emerge as the PM. It is not a coincidence that in the BJP, one name occasionally mentioned to succeed him is Yogi Adityanath.” (p. 870)