The Delhi Police now admits that she was murdered. Question No 1: Why are all her powerful friends wanting to cover up how (and why) she died.
A few days short of Sunanda Pushkar’s death anniversary, the Delhi Police Commissioner has confirmed that she was murdered.
Delhi Police chief B.S. Bassi said that a medical board had found that Pushkar’s death was unnatural and due to poisoning: “She died due to poisoning. Whether the poison was given orally or injected into her body is being investigated.”
Not surprisingly, the news has reignited interest in the sudden and mysterious death of the high-profile lady. We still don’t know the details of what happened on that fateful night. However, what stands out most in the case is the seeming lack of interest in finding the truth in certain quarters, which is stupefying!
As you may recall, Sunanda Pushkar suddenly became a household name when news of the Kochi IPL team scandal broke. An unknown, mysterious woman came into the limelight. Instead of the alleged irregularities in the IPL team, the narrative seemed to be about the woman who was dating Union Minister Shashi Tharoor.
There was media frenzy. We were bombarded with titillating information of her life in Dubai, speculation about her origins, glamorous photographs of her at various events and so on. In the guise of investigative journalism, we saw a virtual witch hunt. The slanted coverage of Sunanda’s life is a disgraceful chapter in India’s media history and the paparazzi at that point had virtually cast her as “Sunanda the siren”. The only saving grace was that Shashi stood by his lady love and eventually married her.
The wedding generated much excitement. We were now given minute details of the guest list, menu, the various ceremonies at multiple venues, what the bride and groom wore, and so on. Sunanda’s identity now transformed into “Sunanda, the glamorous wife of Shashi Tharoor”.
A little after the wedding, Tharoor was reinstated by the UPA government and became a minister again (He was Minister of State for External Affairs in the 2009 UPA government, but resigned a year later, after the IPL outcry. He was brought back as Minister of State in the HRD Ministry in 2012). The golden couple became Page 3 fixtures. They had a glittering circle of friends that included politicians, movie starts, media people and business tycoons (and there is nothing wrong in this).
Sunanda now evolved into “Sunanda, the celebrity”. Everyone in the posh circles wanted to be seen with her. Life had come full circle, she had gained acceptance among the elite, and it seemed that the fairy tale had a happy ending.
Sunanda’s love story took another turn when Tharoor , in response to a political barb, made the dramatic statement that his wife was “priceless”. The phrase seemed to turn a whole band of women weak-kneed, including hard-nosed feminists. Sunanda suddenly became everyone’s favourite victim; feminists embraced her with enthusiasm and spoke indignantly for her “dignity”. Buoyed by this lobby, Sunanda now became “Sunanda, the feminist ”
Then stories of trouble began to emerge. There were rumours that all was not well in the marriage. Sunanda began tweeting her views on politics, especially on Kashmir, which probably caused embarrassment to her husband. There were rumours of an extra-marital affair. All this information is in public domain and has been discussed ad nauseum. I will not go over the details again.
During this turbulent phase, instead of supporting her, her glittering friends seemed to go into damage-control mode. They downplayed her anguish and tried to silence her. The new narrative that started emerging in the gilded circles, in hushed tones, was about “Sunanda, the troubled one”.
Her sudden, untimely and tragic death subsumed all previous identities. After taking on so many imposed personalities, she eventually become “Sunanda, the abandoned”.
The Unnatural Silence
The events that followed Sunanda’s death have raised a lot of questions. The media highlighted many of them, but the continued silence in some quarters is stunning. Here are a few things that do not make sense:
First, Sunanda Pushkar was married to a powerful Indian politician, who was then a serving Union Minister. Why did the police drag their feet on the case? Why was there so much confusion over the medical report? Why were there persisting allegations that UPA ministers had pressurized doctors to tailor the report?
Second, Sunanda had many “friends” in high places—people with serious clout. Why did they not go to town demanding a fair probe and justice? Why was there such a strong desire for silence and a lack of curiosity among people who supposedly cared for her? Why did we repeatedly hear advice to “let her rest in peace”? What kind of peace did they refer to, and for whom?
Third, why had the regularly outraging “feminist” lobby suddenly turned mute? Why did they not rally around a high-profile female victim, whose post-mortem report mentioned physical injuries and stated that she died of poisoning?
Even a cursory examination of events would suggest that something was terribly wrong. Sunanda’s marriage was going through a rough patch, her views were not going down well with her husband’s party, she had contacted media people to speak about “issues”, including the IPL scandal. She died under mysterious circumstances, just before she could share her story, and none of her confidantes thought there was a problem?
There is a saying: “To sin by silence when they should protest makes cowards of men.” In her short turbulent life, perhaps Sunanda’s biggest misfortune was that she chose to befriend cowards. In the end, it was strangers who raised their voice for justice, which still remains elusive.