In public life, perception often becomes more important than reality. A minister who gets the Home portfolio is immediately seen as powerful. A leader who takes an oath before another is considered senior. A politician who handles Finance is treated with awe, while one in charge of Rural Development or Transport is often dismissed as less important.
Yet history repeatedly shows that power does not lie in the name of the department. It lies in the person who handles it.
Many years ago, a senior IAS officer friend narrated an unforgettable story to me. At that time, H. D. Deve Gowda was the Prime Minister. One evening, my friend received a phone call from the Prime Minister’s son, H. D. Kumaraswamy. He was invited to the Prime Minister’s residence for breakfast the next morning.
For any civil servant, such an invitation itself was unusual. My friend was puzzled. He had no clue why the Prime Minister wanted to meet him privately.
The next morning, he reached the residence. Over idlis, sambar, vada and chutney, Deve Gowda casually dropped a bombshell. He told my friend that he had chosen him to become the next Cabinet Secretary.
For a few moments, my friend could not even react. The post of Cabinet Secretary is the highest position an IAS officer can aspire to. It is the summit of the Indian bureaucracy. What made the moment even more emotional was my friend’s background. He belonged to a tribal community from Odisha and was the first tribal officer from the state to enter the IAS.
He did not know how to express his gratitude. The Prime Minister’s gesture was not merely a professional honour. It carried enormous symbolic value.
My friend returned home floating on air. He began waiting for the official notification. But before that came another telephone call from Kumaraswamy. This time, the message was entirely different.
He was told that certain “problems” had been noticed in his confidential records and, therefore, he could not be appointed Cabinet Secretary after all. However, the Prime Minister was willing to compensate him. He could choose the secretaryship of any “powerful” ministry like Home, Defence or Industry.
My friend later told me that the shock was unbearable. There is a Malayalam saying: “Give anything, but not hope.” What had happened was like waking up a hungry man from deep sleep, only to inform him there was no supper.
Yet he quickly regained his composure. He thought carefully about the options before him. After some reflection, he conveyed his choice. He wanted the Rural Development Ministry.
When I asked him why he rejected the glamorous ministries, his reply was simple: “At least there I can do something for the community to which I belong.”
I remembered this episode recently after hearing remarks made by a former Union minister, now a BJP MLA in Kerala. He argued that it was an insult to Ramesh Chennithala that he was sworn in only after V. D. Satheesan and P. K. Kunhalikutty. He also stressed that Chennithala was holding the Home portfolio, implying that this automatically made him more important than others.
But does it really work that way? Indian political history offers many examples proving otherwise.
When the Bharatiya Janata Party contested elections under the leadership of Atal Bihari Vajpayee as party president in 1984, it won only two seats in Parliament. Later, under L. K. Advani, the BJP’s tally jumped dramatically to 85 seats in 1989.
Yet when the party finally came to power, it was Vajpayee who became Prime Minister, not Advani.
Even within Vajpayee’s Cabinet, the formal hierarchy did not always reflect actual influence. Advani was Deputy Prime Minister and officially Number Two. But it was George Fernandes who often acted as Vajpayee’s chief troubleshooter. As Defence Minister and convenor of the 23-party National Democratic Alliance, Fernandes played a far bigger political role than many others occupying supposedly more powerful positions.
The truth is that Home is perhaps the most overrated portfolio in Indian politics. There is a widespread misconception that it is automatically the most powerful ministry. History again tells a different story.
When the interim government was formed in September 1946 under Jawaharlal Nehru, it included both the Congress and the Muslim League. Muhammad Ali Jinnah insisted that the Muslim League should get the Home portfolio.
This was unacceptable to Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel. Patel took a firm stand that if Home was denied to him, he would remain outside the government altogether. The Congress leadership feared that such a development would weaken the administration at a critical moment.
Finally, a compromise formula was evolved. Since Patel refused to surrender Home, the Congress offered Finance to the Muslim League instead. Initially, the League hesitated, but eventually Jinnah accepted the arrangement. Thus, Liaquat Ali Khan became the member in charge of Finance.
That single decision altered the balance of power within the government. Liaquat Ali was not a financial expert, but he had the support of experienced officials in the Finance Department. Very soon, Congress ministers discovered that Finance controlled everything. Files were delayed. Proposals were blocked. Budgets were withheld.
Patel gradually realised that Home did not give him as much authority as he had imagined. Law and order were largely a provincial subject. But Finance had the power to stop almost every administrative initiative.
Maulana Abul Kalam Azad later wrote about this deadlock in his book India Wins Freedom. He observed that the government was paralysed because the League, through the Finance portfolio, could reject or delay virtually every proposal put forward by Congress ministers.
Azad even recalled that Patel discovered he could not create the post of a chaprasi without Finance Ministry approval. That episode remains one of the best lessons in governance. Titles can deceive. The real importance of a ministry depends on circumstances, personalities and political skill.
Every portfolio matters. A good Transport Minister can transform urban life more than a mediocre Home Minister. An efficient Rural Development Minister can improve millions of lives more effectively than a ceremonial holder of a glamorous department. Even a newly created Senior Citizens Welfare Department in Kerala can become meaningful if handled with imagination and commitment.
Unfortunately, politicians themselves often encourage the mythology of “important” and “unimportant” portfolios. There have been occasions when leaders refused to take the oath because they were denied prestigious ministries. Some considered certain departments beneath their status.
This attitude misunderstands the purpose of public office. A ministry is not a decorative piece. It is an opportunity to serve.
That is why my IAS friend’s decision still impresses me after all these years. At a moment of personal disappointment, he did not chase prestige. He chose purpose. He understood where his heart truly lay.
In retrospect, his decision to prefer Rural Development over Home or Defence made perfect sense. He knew that real satisfaction comes not from occupying a powerful chair but from using one’s position to make a difference.