1966
Respect is never free.
It only changes the currency of payment.
When India stopped being underestimated, the world did not relax.
It leaned in.
Expectations replaced indifference. Responsibility replaced patience. Where earlier mistakes were forgiven as immaturity, now they were interpreted as intent.
Power, even quiet power, attracts scrutiny.
Requests multiplied.
Mediation roles.Stability assurances.Quiet alignment on "shared interests."
None were demands.
They were invitations wrapped in assumption.
Assumption that India would act.
Diplomats spoke with new familiarity.
They referenced India's "regional role." Its "moral authority." Its "unique position."
Compliments, again.
But this time they carried weight.
Compliments are burdens when they arrive with expectation.
At home, the consequences were subtle but persistent.
Foreign policy debates sharpened. Every statement was parsed for implication. Silence, once useful, now appeared evasive.
When a nation becomes important, it is expected to explain itself.
I resisted.
Explanation still narrowed options.
But resistance now had cost.
Silence disappointed allies.Ambiguity unsettled partners.Restraint frustrated those who wanted leadership to look louder.
The military felt it too.
Readiness had to be maintained without justification. Exercises questioned. Allocations scrutinized.
Peace is suspicious when it rests on preparedness.
Economically, the pressure intensified.
Markets wanted predictability. Investors wanted signals. Trade partners wanted assurances.
Ambiguity, which deterred coercion, complicated commerce.
Power has trade-offs.
The Second Plan's successors felt the shift.
Long-term projects were expected to consider geopolitical consequence. Infrastructure was evaluated not just for output, but for signal.
Every road became a message.
Every factory a statement.
That burden slows everything.
I felt the exhaustion of gravity.
When others orbit you, stillness requires effort.
Internally, criticism returned — not from fear, but from fatigue.
"How long can we remain undefined?""When do we choose openly?""What are we waiting for?"
These were fair questions.
Dangerous ones too.
I had no satisfying answers.
Only timing.
And timing, when invisible, looks like indecision.
I wrote privately:
"Being ignored was exhausting.""Being respected is heavier."
Heavier because error now echoed.
Because delay now disappointed.
Because restraint now looked like evasion.
The hardest cost was moral.
India had built its identity on principle.
Now principle had consequence.
Silence could be misread as consent.
Non-alignment could be interpreted as avoidance.
Disarmament advocacy could be dismissed as strategy.
I realized then that power corrodes innocence even when used sparingly.
That is its nature.
Yet abandoning restraint would have been worse.
It would replace quiet gravity with loud certainty.
Certainty invites opposition.
Opposition invites escalation.
So I chose burden.
To be consulted and disappoint.
To be expected and refuse.
To be respected and misunderstood.
That was the price of sovereignty.
I wrote one final sentence that year:
"The cost of being taken seriously is never being forgiven."
India would not be forgiven easily now.
It would be judged.
Measured.
Interpreted.
And that meant the next mistake would matter more than all the previous ones combined.