Jayalalithaa jailed: Perils of a first time chief minister
Jailed AIADMK chief and former Tamil Nadu chief minister Jayalalithaa's conviction is under Section 13 (1) (e) of the Prevention of Corruption Act of 1988. It says, "A public servant is said to commit the offence of criminal misconduct, if he or any person on his behalf, is in possession or has, at any time during the period of his office, been in possession for which the public servant cannot satisfactorily account, of pecuniary resources or property disproportionate to his known sources of income. "
The section helpfully has an explanation, which says — "For the purposes of this section, “known sources of income” means income received from any lawful source and such receipt has been intimated in accordance with the provisions of any law, rules or orders for the time being applicable to a public servant."
Jayalalithaa's first innings as chief minister made her a public servant from 1991 to 1996. As chief minister, she took a monthly salary of Rs 1 only. Her career as a film actress had ended in 1980 and seemed to yield no great savings beyond her house in Poes Garden.
Her co-accused,Sasikala and her family were never public servants and are not Jaya's blood relatives. They are now convicted of conspiring in Jayalalithaa's misconduct and possessing property on her behalf.
A first term chief minister, often has no idea of the job requirements. Associates need to be strictly warned that proximity to powerful figures, cannot turn familiarity into a revenue model.
But, a lonely prima donna, exalted into an empress may perhaps be forgiven for indulging a favourite. However when the indulgence is extended from weakness into criminal complicity with a whole family and tribe, it makes a compelling case for a conviction. The prosecution's essential case is that, it was all for one and one for all.
Assets of several companies in which Jayalalithaa was a personal stakeholder, along with Sasikala and Sasikala's relatives, all ended up being attributed to Jayalalithaa and could not be accounted for from her known sources of income.
Assets of around 3 crores in 1991 could not legitimately metamorphose into 66 crores in 1996, even accounting for inflation in a newly liberalised economy.
Added to the land and property was a mind boggling figure of 12,000 saris, 28 kgs of gold and 800 kgs of silver found in Jayalalithaa's Poes Garden residence. Explaining these assets against a slender income, made this case, like others under 13 (1)(e), essentially a matter of accounting.
An auditor must be a watchdog and not a bloodhound, ruled the House of Lords in a gentler century. But not all the Queen's accountants and all the Queen's counsel, could legally laugh away the sheer disproportion, demonstrated by the prosecution.
While she returned to power in 2001, her teams legal strategy was to fix the case, by nobbling the prosecution which was being then conducted by the state of Tamil Nadu. Witnesses began to have convenient amnesia and prosecutors failed to ask the necessary questions.
The Supreme Court stepped in and in 2003 transferred the case to Karnataka and asked the Bangalore High Court to nominate a special prosecutor.
Delay is a known defence tactic. The defence team kept up a slew of dilatory motions. A speedy trial was dragged on and litigated to the Supreme Court at every stage. Curiously, after the time Jaya lost power again in 2006, the prosecution itself seemed to lack vigour to pursue the case.
In 2010 ahead of the Assembly polls of 2011, a few deft moves by the then SPP, BV Acharya led to the case picking up steam. A second series of interim motions and legal maneuvering ensued.
The process also led to a change of the Special Public Prosecutor, who had brought the case to near fruition. Five different judges also heard the case over 18 years.
The delay however had an inadvertent side effect. Previously a conviction did not lead to an automatic disqualification as a legislator. Section 8 (4) of the representation of People's Act, provided for an automatic stay of disqualification as long as an appeal was filed within time and not disposed off.
In 2013 however, the Supreme Court invalidated the section as unconstitutional. Politicians like Lalu Prasad Yadav and Rashid Masood fell prey to the new legalism and a legislative fix had been shredded by that underrated moralist, Rahul Gandhi.
Now a single blow can fell the mighty who can only be revived by full appellate success.
Into this background stepped Judge D'Cunha who had a well merited reputation for thoroughness and probity. If sources are to be believed, he is said to have typed and edited the 1,500 page judgement by himself, to avoid leakages through secretarial sources.
On 26th September 2014, when Jayalalithaa alighted at Parapana Agrahara special court at 10.30am, she is reputed to have confidently told her driver that she would return in a couple of hours.
It is obvious that her legal team had let her live in hope and that none had chosen to warn her of the peril she stood in.
When judgement was pronounced, she transformed almost instantaneously from head of a state government to an involuntary state guest as convict 7402, temporary resident of Bangalore Central Jail.
The story is not over, the appeals remain. She may have a political role for a long time to come, but she will forever remain the first incumbent Indian chief minister to go to jail.
That may be a fitting climax to a morality play, but Indian politics is not about morality, or is it?