It was the early 2000s when I was setting up an economics research practice. Driven by necessity I was knocking door to door for work. On my brother’s reference, I called Bibek Debroy for outsourced research. He spoke to me for all of five minutes and offered to give me some data work ranking the states of India. The Rajiv Gandhi Institute for Contemporary Studies (RGICS) would publish it and Bibek and I would co-author it. And he would give me some advance and the rest on completion. We had a meeting soon after and figured out a methodology and variables and structure, etc. And I was out of his office in just 15 minutes. A few weeks later I was back in his office with printouts of state-level data. Gujarat was coming on top in my ranking. I had validated the numbers, the sources, and the methods, and had even done sensitivity analyses. There were no mistakes there.
The questions on my mind were: Will Bibek ask me to change the method, or the weighting schema? Would he remove his name from this study? Or would he ask me to abandon the study? How could the head of the RGICS co-author a paper ranking post-Godhra Gujarat as the topmost? Again it took Bibek all of 15 minutes, or perhaps it was 10, to clear the confusion. “We will go with what you have, and we will publish with no change in results. Are you OK with that,” he asked me. I did not realise at that time, neither did Bibek perhaps, his RGICS days would soon be over.
Over the next decade we would co-author many papers and a few books, and the pattern repeated each time. Meetings that lasted at best a few minutes on what we were doing jointly were followed by longer ones, when he, his wife, Suparna, and I would talk of just about everything else — travels, dogs, hobbies, personal experiences. He was one of the very few economists not bound by any single area of expertise and was simultaneously curious about economics and politics, myths and maths, chess and chemistry, and what not.
Extremely sharp on the uptake, immensely trusting, quick to decide, and large-hearted as well, he was a joy to work with. It so happened that he had great faith in the power of free markets, whereas I was instinctively distrustful of strong state intervention in economy and society. There was much to agree on in those days when the economy was surging, and free markets appeared to be yielding very high economic benefits for all. He also had little faith in international development institutions, foreign aid, and the necessity of non-market global intervention on development. And for me, who was looking to find an Indian perspective which used markets and individuals as the primary driver of progress, more than state-driven, large company-driven, and globally driven narratives, Bibek was undoubtedly a guru I could look towards.
Sometime in the mid to late 2000s, Bibek started being increasingly drawn to India’s Sanskrit heritage. I was also interested in finding an Indianness in economics and the conversations veered more and more towards heritage, culture, myths and even the occult. For me this was something fascinating that modern India had deprived my generation of, and through his English translations (from Sanskrit) some of that richness was becoming more and more accessible for many of us. His work included translating in an unabridged manner the Mahabharata, Valmiki Ramayana, and many of the major Puranas. There were other texts as well, including Raghuvamsha and Ashtavakra Gita. He himself believed he was reincarnated from Manmath Nath Dutta, who has been the other most prolific translator of ancient Sanskrit texts. Unfortunately, his desire to complete all the major Puranas could not be fulfilled. Would we need to wait for another reincarnation, I wonder.
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But what were also fascinating for me were the changes in Bibek over time. Economics was not driving him anymore. And so there was no one more surprised than me when he accepted a job in government — the NITI Aayog and later heading the Economic Advisory Council to the Prime Minister. The Bibek I knew was quick, spontaneous, trusting, and not moderate in his reactions, to put it mildly. Moreover, he was not naturally inclined to accept bureaucratic processes. And finally economic policy was definitely a passion of the past for him from my vantage point. There is no way he will continue for long, I recall telling myself.
How wrong I was! As the translations progressed, he was steadily and perceptibly changing. As if the texts were not merely being translated, they were steadily embracing him, enabling and empowering their translator in ways that are difficult to fathom for those of us not familiar.
This Bibek Debroy, chairman of the Economic Advisory Council to the Prime Minister, was quick but less reactive, less public with his views, and far better at playing his assigned role than any other organisational job he had in the past. His office time was devoted to fulfilling whatever duties his position involved (we rarely discussed his work). But his texts and work at home were absorbing him.
But what about his belief in free markets, less state intervention, greater focus on international trade and investment, administrative reforms, decentralisation, etc?
Had these now taken the backseat? How could a life devoted to these principles not be louder? Why was he no longer a public proponent of a more open economic order? Why did he not speak out, as he often did in the past? Had Bibek changed his views? Or had he become more accepting? He had no love for power or position, so there was something else.
I could not help but ask him. “My role is to advise the PM as and when he requires it,” he said.
The writer heads the CSEP
The writer heads the CSEP