Of Tiring and Retiring Politicians | Power Play by Anand Mishra

Dear readers,

Shuffling through the headlines this week, two items caught my attention. One was the Centre’s notification of a 25 per cent hike in salaries and pensions for Members of Parliament. The other? A viral video of Bihar Chief Minister Nitish Kumar attempting to strike up a conversation—and making some inexplicable hand gestures—while the national anthem was being played. A visibly uncomfortable senior officer was seen leaning in to suggest, one imagines in his most diplomatic tone, that it is perhaps best to stay still when “Jana Gana Mana” is played.

Nitish Kumar is now 74. But it is not his age that is doing the rounds in political circles and Delhi’s power corridors—it is his apparent state of mind. His recent public appearances have prompted murmurs, smirks, and full-blown memes on social media: mumbling out of turn, erratic gestures, and moments that leave you wondering—was that a glitch in the Matrix or the Chief Minister?

The National Democratic Alliance, led by Kumar in Bihar, recently gathered at the BJP headquarters in Delhi. The message from the top brass: stay united. Understandable, given the emergence of new caste-driven coalitions in the opposition camp, which threaten to shake things up in Bihar, a State where caste is both ballot and backbone. Yet the BJP remains painfully aware: like it or not, Kumar still commands a vote bank no one else can claim.

Last week, after the national anthem incident, the opposition Rashtriya Janata Dal (RJD), helmed by Lalu Prasad, pounced. It staged protests in Patna, holding placards suggesting that Nitish Kumar is “not mentally stable”. Former Chief Minister Rabri Devi, never one to mince words, said Kumar should “make his son the Chief Minister if his mind is not working”. Her son and the RJD’s current powerhouse, Tejashwi Yadav, was more scathing, calling Kumar’s conduct a national embarrassment. This was not his first jab—he had said that Kumar is not “mentally or physically stable even for a few seconds”, and that his continued hold on the Chief Minister’s seat is a “matter of grave concern” for Bihar.

This is not Kumar’s first brush with controversy. Remember his unsolicited biology lecture in the Assembly, where he said an “educated girl can prevent pregnancy while having sex with her husband”? Or his new public hobby: touching feet—on stage, in meetings, anywhere with an audience. In April 2024, Kumar touched Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s feet at a political event, prompting Tejashwi to quip: “I didn’t like it at all. Nitish ji is being made to touch feet.”

Beyond the theatrics and political mud-wrestling, a larger question pops up—why do politicians not retire when they are clearly tired?

I recall a moment from a previous job: employees received a letter announcing that the retirement age was being raised from 58 to 60. Some cheered, others grumbled. But all agreed on one thing—you ought to leave while your faculties are still firing. A senior of mine, still sharp and spry, was offered an extension. He graciously declined, saying he wanted to live, not just work. Others, too, bowed out quietly after a stint or two. Only a rare few clung on for a decade—but even they, in my experience, remained capable.

Politicians, however, operate in a different reality—where power is addictive, legacy is currency, and rules are for the other person.

One of the Narendra Modi government’s early moves in 2014 was setting up a Margdarshak Mandal—a fancy name for a political old-age home—where party stalwarts such as Atal Bihari Vajpayee, Lal Krishna Advani, and Murli Manohar Joshi were politely sent into sunset mode. The press release also named Modi and Rajnath Singh as members, though they somehow remained firmly in the driver’s seat. Fast forward to 2024, and with the BJP falling short of a clear majority, social media is abuzz: will Modi, who turns 75 in September 2025, be forced to hang up his kurta, just as others were?

Arvind Kejriwal certainly thinks so—or at least says so—having raised the age issue during the 2024 election. The BJP, of course, clapped back. Amit Shah, ever the loyal lieutenant, declared that Modi would remain Prime Minister through the full term. Party president J.P. Nadda chimed in, stating that there is no such retirement clause in the BJP constitution. Rajnath Singh even claimed, “It was never decided.” So, what was decided? Your guess is as good as anyone’s. Selective enforcement, thy name is politics.

In August 2014, the Congress veteran Janardan Dwivedi made a pitch: politicians should quit active posts after a certain age—say 70. His idea was simple: let the younger ones do the heavy lifting. Seniors could take up advisory roles, mentor the next generation. Noble, but widely ignored.

Even within the Congress, the “do-as-I-say” paradox thrives. Sonia Gandhi finally stepped down as party president at 76, after repeated internal resistance. Digvijaya Singh, meanwhile, ran in the 2024 general election at 77. Mallikarjun Kharge took over as Congress president in 2022—at the age of 80. While releasing a book on Sushilkumar Shinde (age 83), Kharge said: “No one should retire from politics.” Must be something in the water.

On the other side, the Congress saw 85-year-old S.M. Krishna switch teams to the BJP in 2017, quitting the very party that had once sidelined him. In the same year, Narayan Datt Tiwari joined the BJP at 92, an age when most people are negotiating softer dal.

The Congress is not alone in this gerontocracy. Remember how Advani was sidelined “allegedly” to enable Modi’s rise in 2013? Or how Joshi was gently nudged aside to make way for Modi’s Varanasi run? Back then, sulking seemed to be a full-time job. Shah had to make the rounds to placate the party elders—the media loved it. “Shah meets sulking Advani-Joshi” made regular headlines.

The Samajwadi Party’s Mulayam Singh Yadav was 79 when he engaged in a father-son turf war. Akhilesh took control only after a full-blown show of strength. And if that was not déjà vu enough, let us rewind to George Fernandes in 2009—frail, fighting dementia, yet still insisting on contesting from Muzaffarpur after being denied a ticket. “I shall win,” he told me, holding my hand with a sudden, childlike force. He did not win. A year later, he was sent to the Rajya Sabha as a formality. He passed away in 2019, a tragic reminder that politics does not always know when to let go.

And now, here we are: Nitish Kumar, who once sidelined Fernandes citing health, now faces the same whispers 16 years later. All signs point to the NDA sticking with him for the 2025 Bihar Assembly election. Beyond that, who knows?

As Modi’s 75th birthday approaches—just a month before the Bihar election—the age question will return, not as a whisper but as a war cry. The BJP will rally to defend its poster boy; the Opposition will gleefully cry hypocrisy.

One wonders: is it power, perks, or just plain ego that keeps our political leaders from ever letting go? Those who observed P.V. Narasimha Rao before and after his elevation to Prime Minister say he started looking younger once in office. Meanwhile, Atal Bihari Vajpayee’s health declined post-2004, after the “India Shining” campaign dimmed.

As the saying goes, “Retirement is when you stop living at work and start working at living.” So we circle back to the key question: should politicians retire, or continue until their followers—and sometimes their own bodies—force them to stop? Should there be a mandatory retirement age for public office?

What do you think? Write in and let us know.

Until next time.

Anand Mishra | Political Editor, Frontline

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