Our nattily dressed, perfectly groomed, highly sophisticated, and very distinguished Ambassador, Foreign Secretary, and now External Affairs Minister has said that India is not a “dalal” nation like Pakistan. He fell to using such unparliamentary language simply because Islamabad might be the venue for peace talks that might probably never take place! The polite translation of dalal is “middleman”, but the street understands the word to mean “broker”, “fixer”, or even “pimp”.

What makes this cultivated diplomat resort to such language? Jealousy? Frustration? Anger? Spite?

To put not too fine a point on it, ever since Operation Sindoor, Pakistan has beaten India’s External Affairs Minister hollow in the transactional and unprincipled game of gathering international diplomatic support, or what its practitioners call “statecraft”! Jaishankar thought his case was crystal clear and easily proven: the terrorist attack on Pahalgam a year ago was so obviously the mischief of Pakistani terrorists sent into Kashmir with the connivance of a government that supports terrorists that he believed showing up the perpetrators would be child’s play.

But Pakistani diplomats moved deftly. Before New York, which is nine and a half hours behind Indian time, even woke up to the news, Pakistani diplomats at the UN had concocted with China a way to deviously out-manoeuvre India. They had an immediate meeting of the UN Security Council (UNSC) convened and presented it with a draft that roundly condemned the attack on innocent honeymooning tourists and thundered that the “perpetrators” and those who backed them with finances, arms, and logistical support be brought to book and severely punished.

Even as Jaishankar’s men at the UN were scrambling to get their diplomatic riposte readied, the UNSC had already considered a draft that said everything that needed saying—except naming the perpetrator, the financier, the arms supplier, and the logistics supporter.

Once Pakistan, with the backing of a veto-wielding permanent member, had already drafted the UNSC press statement, the other 13 members of the Security Council—both permanent and pro tem—were content to unanimously endorse it. And before India had half a chance of protesting that there was no point in issuing it without naming the guilty, the statement had been issued. The moving finger had written and having written moved on. And not all of Jaishankar’s tears could wash out half a line of it.

That was the start of Jaishankar’s woes. So, he and his government decided that if the international community would not identify the culprit, they would take it on themselves to inflict condign punishment on Pakistan. After all, we had the Narendra Modi-Anil Ambani Rafale to pit against Pakistan’s fragile toy planes held together by scotch-tape and wire. Alas for poor Jaishankar, things did not work out quite that way.

We lost fighter aircraft (even a year on, government and defence authorities are tight-lipped on which ones and how many). And apparently having been wounded on Night One, we exacted a dreadful toll on Pakistan in the next couple of days, scoring rather more enemy assets than the crow killed in Balakot. The battle was terminated in four days and Operation Sindoor was declared not ended but suspended with retribution awaiting Pakistan if it ever dared mount another terrorist attack. And, for good measure, the homes of three Kashmiri Indian (not Pakistani) families related to the alleged terrorists were demolished as punishment for bringing up delinquent children.

When Trump stepped in

It was at this point that Trump stepped in—the very Trump who Modi and Jaishankar believed was their unique trump card. After all, at Houston, it had been ‘Howdy, Modi’, not ‘Howdy, Munir’. And it was at Ahmedabad (now Amdavad) that Trump was received by a raving crowd of two lakh bhakts, followed by a visit to a stadium (named by Modi after Modi) where another one lakh delirious fans had gathered, outdone only by the two lakh Trump and Modi worshippers milling outside the stadium. Trump was so impressed that when he was eventually re-elected, the first Global South leader to be invited to the White House was none other than his dearest friend and brother, the indomitable PM of India, who had in the interim won his third term. Dr Jaishankar beamed, for it was his strategy to so prioritise the main superpower that all others were left in the shade.

But now, immediately after the “successful” conclusion of Operation Sindoor and before the smoke from our guns had quite dispersed, ‘Doh-naald’ began to claim that it was he and he alone who had ended hostilities by threatening the combatants with trade sanctions. The air went out of the 56-inch chest, leaving it limp and breathless. Who was Trump to claim that he, Trump, had ended the war when all of India knew that it was Modi who had generously paused the punishment? And here was Trump claiming it was he who had ended hostilities—and that too through bending two sovereign nations to his will by threatening sanctions.

Once again, Pakistan moved with dexterity. It not only fully endorsed Trump’s version of events, but topped that by nominating him for the Nobel Peace Prize. Jaishankar (and countless Indians) were left fuming at being depicted as obedient kids chastised by Trump. They could not openly contradict Trump—how does one challenge Big Bro—but quiet statements were issued about cessation of hostilities brought about by Director General of Military Operations-level talks between India and Pakistan.

Then, lo and behold, rubbing salt into Jaishankar’s wounds, Gen. Munir (by now elevated to Field Marshal for his “strategic leadership and courageous role” in the Indo-Pak skirmish) was invited to the White House and lauded as Trump’s “favourite Field Marshal”! No one invited Jaishankar or described him as their “favourite Foreign Minister”. Boohoo!

Jaishankar manfully held back his tears. He and Modi then decided to unleash Shashi Tharoor on an unsuspecting world. How could anyone resist that manicured hand brushing back the forelock gracefully tumbling down the brow of this formidable walking thesaurus? Who could match his King’s English accent, his stemless flow of big-big words, his persuasiveness, the impeccable logic of his argument?

So, Tharoor and a baker’s dozen of eager parliamentarians, drawn from across the political spectrum, were despatched to exotic locales to persuade the ignorant locals of Pakistani perfidy. The parliamentarians returned from the junket entirely persuaded that they had worsted their Pakistani rivals and convinced the world. Unfortunately, it was no such thing. It was the original statement that endured, condemning the attack but not naming Pakistan.

And then came the cruellest cut of all. In July 2025, Trump announced a new 25 per cent tariff on Indian goods followed by a further 25 per cent in August 2025. The honeymoon was well and truly over.

As Jaishankar watches his carefully built House of Cards crumble, he vents his spleen on a Pakistan that is outwitting so suave a diplomat as himself. And in the process exposing an India without Nehru and a foreign policy without V.K. Krishna Menon to global ridicule. Game, set, and match to Islamabad. Ab samajh mei aayaa ki Jaishankar ko gussa kyon aataa hai? (Now do you see what makes Jaishankar so angry?)

Mani Shankar Aiyar served 26 years in the Indian Foreign Service, is a four-time MP with over two decades in Parliament, and was a Cabinet Minister from 2004 to 2009.

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