Bose on Bose

With the publication of a revised version of his Subhas Chandra Bose biography, author Mihir Bose discusses the relevance of a lost hero.

It's with some ambivalence that I go to the Marriott Hotel to interview Mihir Bose, journalist-cum-author.

Bose's epic The History of Indian Cricket was my initiation into serious cricket literature, but the man who wrote it isn't in Delhi to talk bails and stumps; he's here for the launch of a revised version of The Lost Hero, his 1982 biography of Subhas Chandra Bose "" and accordingly, this must be the focus of the interview.

Bose, no relation to the subject of his book, has worked for 30 years in England as a business and sports reporter and has a brisk, briefly intimidating manner that gradually dissolves into cameraderie without ever becoming completely informal.

He has a scribe's thirst for information about recent developments in the country, often interrupting the conversation to ask about the Ashok Advani case; the health of journalism in India; the number and quality of TV channels now telecast.

The author is clearly bemused by all the obsessing over whether Subhas Chandra Bose died in that 1945 plane crash; when researching for his book in the 1970s, he found there was a paucity of useful material but "I was told to go to Madhya Pradesh because S C Bose was going to appear at a rally there! The man has been diminished by the mystery surrounding his death."

The Lost Hero focuses on the life of the man who controversially fought for Indian independence not the Gandhian way but by teaming up with the Axis powers during World War II.

Much of the new material in the revised edition comes from the recently opened files of the Indian Political Intelligence (IPI), a secret service of the British Raj.

From these, Mihir Bose gathered information on British spies who pretended to work with SCB, and Indian communists who took advantage of their association with the high-profile figure.

"Indians often find it difficult to take a balanced view of history," rues the author. "Everything must be black or white, Ram or Ravana, and so it's inconvenient to dwell on what doesn't accord with common perception. Which is why probing biographies of public figures are so rare here."

This, he believes, is also why SCB's role in the independence movement is often obscured. "But history is more complicated than we like to think."

The author believes if SCB had been a prominent political figure in independent India, there would have been "more rational, straight-line development "" no beating about the bush".

"Gandhiji," he says "" the 'ji' a careful reminder of his fundamental respect for the man "" "has the status of a modern Hindu god. But if you list the top principles of Gandhiism, you'll find none of them followed by modern India. He has been turned into an icon whose beliefs are of no practical value, and this has encouraged double-thinking and hypocrisy."

Our conversation has lasted an hour and over its course Bose has metamorphosed from a stern-seeming academic into a jovial raconteur lounging across the lobby chairs.

So, just before leaving, I seize the opening provided by a fleeting cricket reference ("Mahatma Gandhi was the greatest man India has produced "" apologies to Sachin Tendulkar") and ask what he thinks of Indian cricket's development since he wrote his book in 1990.

"I think Sourav Ganguly is the most interesting figure to have emerged in the modern Indian game," says Bose with a crinkly-eyed parting smile.

It says a lot about the integrity radiated by the man that it's entirely possible to believe his admiration is unrelated to his Bongness.

Mihir Bose's The Lost Hero (Rs 495, Brijbasi Art Press, 926 pages) contains new material gleaned from the files of the Indian Political Intelligence