Every political movement needs a moment of acceptability, and for India's right, that moment arrived in the person of Atal Bihari Vajpayee. A moderate by political instinct, he became the mask that made India's right acceptable to a political spectrum long dominated by the Congress. In that sense, K. Govindacharya was not entirely wrong in calling him a mukhota, a carefully crafted illusion that projected moderation while leaving the core ideology unchanged.

Yet Vajpayee was also his own person. He walked a political tightrope, knowing when to speak the language of conciliation and when to sound like a hardliner, shifting with ease as the moment demanded. Vajpayee ultimately became the bridge his ideological parents needed, carrying India's right from the margins into the mainstream and making it politically acceptable.

Though more opinionated in tone, Believer's Dilemma, written by Abhishek Choudhary, stands out in the crowded field of political biographies for what it explains: how India's right first learnt to operate within the mainstream. The book's timing could not be more apt. Anyone seeking to understand Modi's right-wing India must begin with the Vajpayee years, which functioned more as a preparatory phase between Congress dominance and present right-wing consolidation.

As a sequel to Choudhary's Vajpayee: The Ascent of the Hindu Right, 1924–1977, the book moves beyond the making of Vajpayee and the rise of the right in postcolonial India to focus on the most influential phase of his political life. It opens in the aftermath of the Emergency, a moment when the right wing tasted power for the first time, with Vajpayee appointed External Affairs Minister.

Given his experience as editor of right-wing publications, his extensive writings on foreign policy, and his long parliamentary career, the portfolio appeared tailor-made for him within the right. His future second-in-command, L. K. Advani, was assigned Information and Broadcasting, showing the RSS understood how important it was to control the narrative.

On the foreign policy front, Vajpayee largely maintained the status quo. Yet there were moments of quiet experimentation. One such instance was engaging Israel discreetly to reshape India's Middle East policy, including a secret visit by the Israeli foreign minister to Delhi. This initiative, however, was undercut when Indira Gandhi returned to power and made the visit public, embarrassing both Vajpayee and the Morarji Desai government. Despite such setbacks, Vajpayee's diplomatic calendar remained unusually active, earning him the nickname "Shuttle Behari Voyagepayee." In 1977, he also became the first Indian leader to address the United Nations General Assembly in Hindi, placing the language on the global diplomatic stage.

Back home, contradictions within the Janata experiment deepened. The Morarji government kept the RSS at arm's length amid allegations of discrimination against non-Hindus, while Chaudhary Charan Singh's ambitions were soaring high. It was a matter of "when," not "if." The much-expected collapse came in 1979, when Charan Singh split the party for the top job, bringing down India's first post-Independence big-tent experiment and first government in which RSS pracharaks were actively a part of.

As the Jan Sangh's future hung in the balance, hardliners such as S. S. Bhandari and Kushabhau Thakre, backed by RSS Chief Balasaheb Deoras, argued for a new party. Vajpayee and Advani initially hesitated to abandon the wreckage of the Janata Party. The hardliners prevailed, and in 1980 the Bharatiya Janata Party was formed, not as a mere revival of the Jan Sangh but as a redesigned political vehicle. By then, Vajpayee's popularity had grown beyond the RSS's shadow, placing him among a rare group of leaders respected across ideological lines.

Soon after the establishment of the BJP began the establishment of dual power centres between Nagpur and New Delhi, where decisions would often clash. Vajpayee, who had tasted power by now, led the New Delhi bloc and became the inaugural president. He wanted to mould the party in his own image. Integral humanism was quietly replaced by Gandhian socialism. S. P. Mukherjee and Deendayal Upadhyay were shown the way out to bring in JP and Mahatma Gandhi. The message was clear: a BJP for everyone. It was better to wear a mask rather than be confined to an ideology chosen by a few. Sikander Bakht's elevation as vice president reinforced this umbrella approach.

The BJP's ideological looseness, its attempt to be everything to everyone, created room for parallel mobilisation within the Sangh Parivar. Sensing this opening, the RSS stepped in with a long-awaited cultural spearhead: the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP). The VHP's Ekatmata Yatra in 1983, marketed as a project of national integration, marked a crucial moment. Its success convinced hardliners that mass Hindu mobilisation was not only possible but electorally effective. With this confidence, the search for a cause that could unify and mobilise soon led, almost inevitably, to the Ram Janmabhoomi movement, centred on the claim of Lord Ram's birthplace.

After the 1984 debacle, Vajpayee faced growing distrust within the RSS. With little space to assert himself, he watched as the hardliner-favoured L. K. Advani rose in prominence, while he waited for his moment. Vajpayee remained committed to his moderate instincts even as hardliners gained ground.

The BJP was now in a deep existential crisis. Rajiv Gandhi's calibrated outreach to multiple religious constituencies, from the Shah Bano reversal to the opening of the locks at the Ram Janmabhoomi site, further narrowed the party's political space. The Palampur declaration of 1989 proved decisive, giving the BJP a clear sense of purpose. It abandoned the ambition of being everything to everyone and committed itself fully to the Janmabhoomi movement. After the Mandal episode, it was evident that a confrontation could no longer be avoided.

Vajpayee acted sceptical of the Janmabhoomi movement, while Advani seized the political moment. Advani's Rath Yatra from Somnath to Ayodhya, which Vajpayee wryly referred to as the "Advani Yatra," transformed him into the BJP's most electrifying mass leader, eclipsing even his mentor. The shift was evident within the party. Bihar BJP chief T. K. Jha went so far as to suggest that voters should "stamp the lotus and make Advanijee the prime minister," even as Advani himself continued to publicly confirm his loyalty to Vajpayee.

The book's most dramatic section is the demolition of the Babri Masjid on 6 December 1992. It was nothing short of a well-executed plan by the Sangh Parivar. It unfolded like a big, fat Indian wedding, where each and every member of the parivaar knew the role they had to play. Kalyan Singh secured and cleared the surrounding land. RSS–VHP cadres formed the infantry. Advani and Murli Manohar Joshi mobilised the masses and led the baraat from Varanasi and Mathura. Vajpayee appeared as the "peevish" uncle at the final and crucial stage, one who always acts disinterested but ultimately falls in line. And following the same tradition, he did.

As the structure fell, Vajpayee returned to Delhi to handle the final and crucial task of managing the aftermath, something only a person like him could do because of his moderate credentials and acceptance above party lines. A man almost sidelined was now back at the forefront, defending the saffron brotherhood, exactly the purpose for which he had been kept by the Sangh Parivar.

Critics often question Vajpayee's intentions during the Janmabhoomi movement. Choudhary explains how Vajpayee firmly held to a balanced position, even as events unfolded rapidly after the demolition. It was this political skill that brought the BJP into negotiations with the then home minister, S. B. Chavan, at a moment when dark clouds were gathering.

Those talks mattered. In 1948 and again in 1975, the Sangh Parivar had faced bans and isolation because it lacked a figure capable of defending it in Parliament and the public sphere. In 1992, Vajpayee played that role. His presence ensured that the BJP and the RSS did not meet the same fate.

The party now needed redemption. With every known face tainted by the demolition, Vajpayee alone emerged untouched and ready to take charge. In the post-Babri phase, with the BJP still out of power at the Centre, he remained the only centrist figure around whom the party could rally. When news broke that Advani had been formally named as an accused in the Jain Hawala scandal, his authority within the organisation quickly eroded. From that point on, Advani never fully regained the popularity or moral authority that Vajpayee would go on to command in the years that followed. At the BJP's Mumbai plenary session in 1995, a rare moment of camaraderie unfolded. Both saffron poster boys, Advani and Vajpayee, nominated each other for the prime minister's post and ended up getting their eyes filled.

What this book clearly lacks is an explanation of why, even when Vajpayee was at his lowest and could easily have been outshone by Advani, the latter chose to keep him in the loop. This was true in the mid-1980s and again during the most consequential moment of his career in Mumbai, when Advani announced Vajpayee as the party's prime ministerial face. Some reasons have been suggested: that Vajpayee was the umbrella under whom a coalition could be formed, or that Advani showed generosity toward his old mentor. None of these explanations, however, feels fully satisfactory.

When the first election after the demolition came, Vajpayee had clearly consolidated his position, and the BJP ran a presidential-style campaign focused entirely on him. For the saffron brotherhood, it was the moment when years of political experiments had finally delivered concrete dividends. The 1996 election became a stepping stone: the BJP emerged as the largest party in the Lok Sabha for the first time, winning 161 seats. Though the mandate was hung, Vajpayee took oath as prime minister.

Choudhary offers fascinating anecdotes of how important papers were being photocopied day and night, trying to gather insider information on the workings of previous Congress governments, preparing for the possibility of losing power. And they did. Vajpayee's government lasted just 13 days, the shortest in India's history, but it marked the BJP's arrival as a central political force.

Through Vajpayee's carefully staged optics and his dramatic speech at the time of his resignation, the RSS sent a subtle message: they were not yet ready to actually rule, but only to rehearse, to show that one day they could. The poet-politician stepped back, aiming for a proper mandate in the future. As Vajpayee himself put it, "Ashiq ka janaza hai, zara dhoom se nikle"—a proper farewell to Congress delivered with style.

It was only a matter of time. After two unstable United Front governments, the stage was finally set. In 1998, with the BJP winning 182 seats and leading a coalition of 264 MPs, Vajpayee, the centrist in chief, was sworn in as prime minister.

Choudhary does a commendable job of analysing the tensions between New Delhi and Nagpur. Nagpur focused on increasing its share within the government and strengthening the party's organisational roots, while New Delhi emphasised sheer political pragmatism. The book highlights several instances of this friction. For example, RSS Chief K. S. Sudarshan asked Vajpayee to drop Mahajan and Jaswant Singh from the cabinet, but Vajpayee ignored the demand. Similarly, protests by the Swadeshi Jagran Manch and the Bharatiya Mazdoor Sangh against the BJP government they had helped install show the recurring clash between ideological preference and political strategy.

This book offers a rare insider view of the people who ran Vajpayee's Prime Minister's Office. The most influential was Brijesh Mishra, the so-called "Almost PM," who served as Vajpayee's Principal Private Secretary and National Security Adviser. A former IFS officer and son of former Madhya Pradesh Chief Minister D. P. Mishra, he was often described as nearly as powerful as the prime minister himself.

Mishra wielded virtual veto power within the PMO and was equally distrusted by the RSS and Advani for his liberal instincts and rapid consolidation of authority. He was Vajpayee's man Friday in every sense, the indispensable operator behind nearly every major decision.

Choudhary also highlights the so-called "Ramjas Club," with Ashok Saikia, Joint Secretary in the PMO, as its most prominent figure. Known to Vajpayee since his college days, when the leader often visited Ramjas College to meet Rajkumari Kaul, Saikia kept a low profile while quietly shaping decisions in the PMO. Several former Ramjas students who became bureaucrats were treated favourably by the government, a pattern that was hardly coincidental.

While the PMO is a standard feature in any prime ministerial biography, Choudhary explores with particular skill the PMF—the Prime Minister's Family. He does not limit himself to personal relationships but shows how this family became an active part of Vajpayee's public life. Rajkumari Kaul, who had lived with Vajpayee for nearly two decades, their daughter Namita, and her husband Ranjan Bhattacharya, Officer on Special Duty to the prime minister, together formed a powerful inner circle.

The couple, who affectionately called Vajpayee "Baapji," began managing key aspects of his political life. From deciding interviews to influencing decisions within the Lutyens ecosystem, they became deeply embedded in the workings of power. At the height of his influence, Ranjan Bhattacharya was even involved in oil dealings in the Middle East and, alongside Brijesh Mishra, often drew criticism from Nagpur.

When it came to his most controversial strategic decisions, Vajpayee was often composed. By the late 1990s, the need for a credible nuclear arsenal was no longer optional for India but a strategic necessity. Vajpayee executed this with precision through the five nuclear tests conducted under Operation Shakti, an assertion of power in an increasingly fragile neighbourhood.

Choudhary also examines Vajpayee's over-optimism and personal rapport with Pakistan under Nawaz Sharif. With Kashmir still sensitive, he launched the Sada-e-Sarhad initiative in 1999, travelling by bus from Amritsar to Lahore. For Vajpayee, symbolism mattered as much as diplomacy. From choosing an Urdu name for the bus to inviting figures like Javed Akhtar and Kuldeep Nayar, the journey was carefully choreographed to gain political mileage at home. It marked India's closest attempt at meaningful engagement with Pakistan since 1971.

That optimism was soon shattered by the Kargil conflict, which exposed Pakistan's revisionist intent. Operation Vijay, launched in response, showcased Vajpayee's statesmanship, especially his decision not to cross the Line of Control, a restraint that yielded significant diplomatic dividends. Under sustained international pressure, Nawaz Sharif was forced to retreat, handing India both a strategic and a diplomatic victory.

Vajpayee's life, both political and personal, was always a tightrope walk. Over time, this balancing act grew harder as new-age hardliners gained ground. After 2002, he largely counted time. The Gujarat riots under Narendra Modi and rising polarisation turned Modi into Nagpur's poster boy. In the evening of his career, Vajpayee seemed closer to a Nobel Peace Prize than to the RSS's favour.

Vajpayee was the centrist mask through which the right wing introduced its ideas to a mainstream electorate still living under the shadow of the Congress. This distinctive strain of Vajpayeeism within the right proved almost impossible to replicate. Advani's attempt to do so in 2005, by invoking Jinnah's legacy to woo Muslim voters, only underlined the point and ultimately cost him the party presidency.

Political change rarely comes as a shock; rather, it unfolds through transition. The believer did have a dilemma, but instead of chasing cultural perfectionism, he doubted just enough and believed just enough. In the end, his journey is best captured in the words of Frank Sinatra's My Way: "I faced it all, I stood tall, and did it my way."

This article is also available on the author's substack.

Harshal Raj Patel

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