To dream, to think, to go on Shashi Tharoor, UN, New York

To dream, to think, to go on Shashi Tharoor, UN, New York

Defeat is never easy to digest, in any endeavour in life all the more so when the loss is both personal and, in a sense, national...

AS I write these words the weekend before they appear in print, I am contemplating the imminent prospect of defeat in the race for the Secretary-Generalship of the United Nations. A ballot on Monday (whose results will be known to readers today) seems likely to end my participation in the contest.

The ones that were won

Until now I could truthfully say that I had never lost an election. But that is also because I had only run in three. The first was for the Presidency of the St Stephen's College Students' Union back in 1974. Friends coined the slogan "Shashi Tharoor jeetega zaroor," and it turned out to be prophetic. (My most memorable achievement as President, unfortunately, was improving the quality of the vegetarian food in the college mess, though I also kept my Union out of the JP movement, a stance I later regretted during the Emergency.)The second was a considerably less intense contest that saw me elected as the student representative on the Admissions Committee of the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy two years later (in which capacity I helped gain admission for a pair of Indian applicants). And the third, my first worldwide election, was in 1985, when officials of the Office of the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees chose me to head the staff association. (We were a trade union with a difference, because we were more concerned about the well-being of refugees than about ourselves, and during a financial crisis for the organisation we led a drive to donate a day's salary to the office.) The fourth time has turned out to be less lucky.

Facing up to defeat

Defeat is never easy to digest, in any endeavour in life all the more so when the loss is both personal and, in a sense, national, since I was the proud standard-bearer of the official nomination of the Government of India for this post. I wasoverwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of strangers from across the country and throughout the diaspora who wrote to me to express their support and promise me their prayers. The letters came from people of every caste, religion and region in our vast country, and many from NRIs scattered across the globe; half a dozen even came from Pakistani citizens, which points to a human affinity that transcends the subcontinent's political divides. I was humbled to be the repository of the good wishes and hopes of so many people, and it is impossible to escape the feeling that, by losing, I have let them down. Friends have been quick to call and write to assure me, on the eve of defeat, that I have nothing to be ashamed of, and that my performance in the contest has more than vindicated their faith in me. Frankly, I find little consolation in this: in any race, second is never as good as first. Those who tell me that victory would have saddled me with a thankless job are also barking up the wrong tree: the thankless job is, after all, the one I sought. (The Duke of Wellington famously said that victory was the greatest tragedy in the world, except for a defeat. But he could say that because he kept winning.) And yet, I have no regrets in defeat. This was a battle worth waging: throughout the process I have been sustained by my strong faith in the values and principles of the United Nations, in its achievements and its potential, and in the quality and dedication of its staff around the world. It has been a privilege to articulate and defend my vision of this indispensable organisation, to which I have devoted my professional life (and most of my adult life). Debt of gratitude The Bhagavad Gita tells us that we must do our duty without regard to the outcome. If something is worth striving for, the striving is its own reward. There are only two mistakes in life, the Buddha once said: not going all the way, and not starting the journey. I would never have forgiven myself for not having tried to go all the way, and I owe a great debt of gratitude to the Government of India for having given me the opportunity to start the journey. Ultimately, all sense of victory and loss are personal. The poet Longfellow put it best: "Not in the clamour of the crowded street, / Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, But in ourselves, are triumph and defeat". My regular readers know that I am not a great fan of Rudyard Kipling, but amongst the finest lines he ever wrote were contained in his magnificent poem "If": "If you can dream and not make dreams your master; If you can think and not make thoughts your aim, / If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster/ And treat those two imposters just the same." It is a curiously Hindu idea for that arch-imperialist to express, but in recognising that victory and defeat are both part of life lies the insight that enables each of us to go on. And go on I will.