Strategies For An Uncertain World

It’s not just the pandemic that has taught us immeasurable lessons this year — 2020 has also given us a book that captures every phase of a day, or a season, in the corridors of international politics: dawn, scorching heat, cooling sunset, wintry nights, and twilight, all encapsulated across 226 pages. Released in the last quarter of last year, The India Way has drawn considerable attention for the clarity and hope it offers on our country’s future — insight sharp enough to double as a political tool in its own right. The book’s title captures its central idea: redemption, built on identifying real opportunities for growth, learning smarter ways to pursue them, and reckoning honestly with past regrets, mistakes, and missed chances. It is a book born of the corridors that thrive on international relations.

The India Way is not just a book — it’s a lens onto the bigger picture: India’s footprint in geopolitics, its stability, its performance and, most importantly, its identity. The author, S. Jaishankar, is India’s Minister of External Affairs, and across these 226 pages he draws on history, fact, intuition, and firsthand experience. The book ranges from historical and even mythological eras through to the 2008 global financial crisis and the 2020 pandemic — an important stretch of our recent timeline.

Jaishankar blends personal experience with case studies to sketch a roadmap for India’s stability, politics, and economy going forward. Even where the mix feels uneven, he finds ways to bring it together so that India’s goals stay within reach. He grounds this thinking firmly in history and tradition — fitting for a civilizational power seeking to reclaim its place on the world stage. Still, one question lingers for me: is a single framework really enough? Given how quickly international politics shifts, no single lens can capture every issue that matters to a country’s strategy. Everything counts.

Each chapter opens with a well-chosen adage, and together they explore the paths to growth and success that India has taken, could have taken, or might yet take. Jaishankar draws on decades of experience in international relations and diplomacy to map out viable routes toward India’s larger goals — each backed by solid analysis, fact, and a deep grasp of the underlying dynamics.

The Lessons of Awadh

In this opening chapter, we learn how China’s rise as a potential superpower has created new pressure points across Asian and global geopolitics. As with any comparison, India’s own rise will inevitably be measured against its neighbours. Geopolitics and the balance of power form the foundation of all international relations — and that balance rarely holds steady for long, whether across an era, a decade, or a century. The Bandung era of Afro-Asian solidarity in the 1950s stands as a reminder of what neglecting hard power can cost. As a democratic, pluralistic society with a market economy — and a tradition rooted in Kautilyan statecraft — India is positioned to grow alongside others, not apart from them. As Jaishankar writes, “Given these affinities, such an India can effectively search for new partnerships. Values that bring them together do matter, probably even more so in a technology-driven world.”

Technology is an extension of dynamism — a great advantage, but also the biggest challenge. In a world moving as fast as ours, the systems, standpoints, and structures underlying governance, diplomacy, and economics are all in constant flux. This dynamism opens up new paths forward, but it also raises expectations and intensifies competition. Keeping pace with this era — and the ones still to come — is essential. The future of any citizen ultimately depends on how well their country manages both domestic governance and international relations.

Redemption and multi-polarity go hand in hand, and dynamism is what drives both, as countries step forward to claim their place. Russia is breaking old constraints to emerge as a rising power once again. China, meanwhile, boasts one of the strongest militaries on Earth, is now allied with Pakistan, and remains the world’s second-largest economy.

The power of “multiples” — polarity, both lateral and national — is intense. India, in many ways, is the perfect example of unity in diversity. That diversity opens up countless opportunities to showcase our strengths, but it also adds real complexity. Practicing pluralism within that diversity is no small task. Looking back, the world was largely bipolar during the Cold War; the emergence of the USSR briefly made parts of it appear unipolar, but the Soviet Union’s collapse ultimately gave rise to the multi-polar world we see today.

As Minister of External Affairs, Jaishankar draws heavily on personal experience — but this never tips into favouritism toward India or a glossing-over of its flaws. His analysis avoids personal attacks throughout. As you move through the book, nothing is disguised: white stays white, black stays black, all laid out clearly.

Jaishankar identifies three major burdens India’s foreign policy has carried from its past. The first is Partition in 1947, which weakened India both demographically and politically, giving China room to expand its strategic footprint across Asia. The second is India’s delayed economic reforms — launched roughly fifteen years after China’s — a gap in capability that continues to put India at a disadvantage. The third is India’s prolonged, drawn-out pursuit of the nuclear option, which made gaining influence in that domain far harder than it might have been had the country acted sooner.

Yet there’s reason for optimism here too: understanding these disadvantages can itself become an advantage, opening up roads less travelled. India’s experience operating from a position of disadvantage has made it quicker to recognize and welcome change when it comes. Jaishankar offers a useful cue here — a “neighbourhood first” approach that strengthens regional ties and rebuilds economic bonds. As Singapore’s Lee Kuan Yew once observed, India’s rise is, in many ways, the more reassuring one.

India has real opportunities ahead. ASEAN’s efforts to preserve its own cohesion and centrality create natural demand for India’s involvement. This is the moment to engage America, manage China, cultivate Europe, reassure Russia, bring Japan more fully into play, draw neighbours closer, and expand India’s traditional base of support — starting with building a stable balance across Asia. In short: taking on global responsibility, acting as a constructive player, and projecting a distinct national identity are what will make India not just respected, but genuinely liked.

In practical foreign-policy terms, Jaishankar suggests India start by advancing its national interests — identifying and acting on opportunities created by global contradictions, while keeping national security and integrity front and centre. Building goodwill should begin close to home, in the immediate neighbourhood. Humanitarian assistance and disaster response (HADR) offers a clear, tangible way to demonstrate this forward-looking posture, and Indian policymakers may need to weigh a more realist approach to world affairs going forward. As he puts it: “What India and the world mean to each other will change as they develop new equations. An economy that is transitioning to a higher level will hold a different relevance. That will mean striking the right balance between developing stronger national capabilities, making it easier to do business, ensuring a level playing field, and growing with the global economy—new equilibriums between the world and India will arise in different fields, some of them not without friction.” He notes that he has watched the world change considerably over the course of his career.

A Delayed Destiny

This chapter examines the role the 1991 crisis and ASEAN played in shaping India’s trajectory. As Jaishankar writes, “The 1991 crisis transformed India’s model of development into an effective one and made it look more towards Asian economic growth of relatively recent origin. ASEAN served as a path of entry into this new syndrome, and its institutions helped socialize India into a different world.” Since then, India’s engagement with South-East and East Asia has grown steadily, and its economic ties with South Korea, China, and Japan have expanded under successive governments. ASEAN opened the door for India to join various regional forums, helping it claim a larger share of the region’s growth. Free trade agreements followed with Japan and South Korea, and India’s broader trade, investment, and economic agenda grew alongside them. In many ways, India’s growth story began a quarter-century ago, the moment it chose to look East — marking a profound shift in its foreign policy.

Jaishankar draws a striking parallel here: “There are important lessons from Japanese history that could impinge on the future of Asia, and thus of India. From the Meiji era onward, that country has always leveraged the international environment. It has also responded to global power equations and always found partners to improve its position. That tradition surely continues. Japan actually has an India history, and its logic may unfold once global impediments are removed.” India and Japan are, of course, very different societies, each shaped by its own distinct history and culture. Japan may hold real potential for change, but for India, the true gateway to success in the East runs through ASEAN.

The Art of Disruptions

This chapter turns to America’s standing in the world, with the US-China relationship squarely in focus. As Jaishankar writes: “The lower salience of Russia has been a factor for changes in the US-China relation. When a deep state joins a loud state in the US, a structural shift is well underway. Even before the corona crisis, the influence of global supply chains and domination of technologies had given a sharp edge to growing trade frictions. The high stakes of this competition are underlined by the fact that it is, in many ways, about disruption itself.” He argues that breaking through old discomforts and social structures is central to any country reshaping itself. As he puts it, “In an inter-dependent and constrained world, it can only unfold through tensions and negotiations, adjustments, and transactions. In this process, much will depend on what is allowed to take root. An America that consciously chooses to be higher cost but more insular economy, nationalistic but innovative technology creator, and self-sufficient but more powerful military will mean a very different ball. There will always be voices that would urge accommodation.”

Convergence is another key ingredient in this mix. What can India do to advance its goals in this disrupted landscape? The answer largely hinges on how it manages its relationships with the US and China — a genuine turning point for the country. After China’s 1962 attack, India turned to the US, even requesting air cover during a moment of crisis. In 1971, facing a looming US-China-Pakistan axis and the Bangladesh crisis, India forged something close to an alliance with the USSR. Each time a crisis passed, India returned to a more centrist path. But leaning too heavily on the past has its limits — which is why convergence, rather than alignment, is the better fit for India today. Convergence with neighbours matters just as much as aligning new technologies with national strategy. Jaishankar describes technology as “the great promise” capable of connecting us all more closely.

Of Mandarins and Masses

Jaishankar returns to this theme in a later chapter, pointing to significant untapped potential in technology and human capital. He frames this in the context of a fairer partnership with the West — one that could yield real political and economic benefits. By connecting the dots across technology, economics, and demographics, India can build a genuine partnership with the West, grounded in shared values as much as shared interests.

A more nationalistic approach to foreign policy, Jaishankar notes, will inevitably weaken multilateral rules in some areas — particularly around economic interests and sovereignty. A more assertive India isn’t looking to settle for less, but its approach to diplomacy remains distinctly its own: history shows India has never favoured a “winner takes all” style of engagement. The Mahabharata — a saga built entirely on choices and their consequences — remains the clearest expression of Indian thought on statecraft, and it forms the backbone of the next chapter.

Krishna’s Choice

This chapter opens with a line from Goethe that could serve as its guiding thought: “A nation that doesn’t honour its past has no future.” I might have preferred an opening line drawn from the Mahabharata itself — a text rich with its own philosophy, strategy, and politics — but the chapter more than makes up for it, offering plenty of its own frameworks for understanding tactics and strategy. What ties this chapter to the previous one is realism, paired here with a deep sense of context. Jaishankar draws out real-world parallels, comparing the choices made during the Mahabharata era with those facing India today. Realism remains one of the book’s central themes throughout.

When Arjuna hesitated on the battlefield, uncertain of his own resolve, Lord Krishna convinced him to act. In international relations, our fear of cost — often rooted in fear of the unknown — can hold us back from taking necessary action, pushing a nation toward becoming what Jaishankar calls a “soft state.” Left unchecked, this can quietly harden into fatalism dressed up as deliberation. Better, he argues, to channel that resolve into resolving problems directly, rather than using cost as an excuse for inaction — even against a determined competitor. The alternative is ceding ground to monopoly and terrorism.

Confronting terrorism is especially difficult when it has state backing. Pakistan, Jaishankar notes, has used nuclear sabre-rattling to blur the moral line between victim and perpetrator — a tactic compounded by India’s own missteps, such as at Havana and Sharm-El-Sheikh, which unintentionally reinforced a “strategic logic” favouring the aggressor. India, meanwhile, faces constant pressure to conform to a self-serving narrative not of its own making — making this an especially difficult fight, with no easy answers when it comes to terrorism.

The chapter also examines governance itself. Striking the right balance within a democracy isn’t impossible, but it is genuinely difficult, requiring careful, deliberate action at every step — particularly given how effectively authoritarian states can link statism with strategic deception. Western democracies have generally found it easier to act decisively when there was clear unity of purpose; in Yugoslavia, Russia, Libya, and Syria, a great deal happened that was never openly discussed. As Jaishankar observes, “One of India’s challenges is that its sense of establishment is not fully developed. Competitive politics is so visceral that perhaps the only continuity is that those in opposition can be counted on to oppose. This makes it very much harder to reconcile the gaps between narratives and intent.” India, he notes, has long struggled to bridge the gap between declared policy and actual objectives.

The Trouble with Globalism

Elsewhere in "Of Mandarins and Masses," Jaishankar turns to another compelling theme: the word "globalism" sounds appealing in the abstract, but on the ground, it often runs counter to nationalist sentiment. Former US President Donald Trump, for instance, explicitly rejected globalism in favour of patriotism at the UN in September 2018. Electoral outcomes increasingly reflect cultural and nationalist sentiment, with political trends favouring “stronger cultural identities and more nationalist narratives.” In this climate, cosmopolitanism is often blamed for eroding livelihoods and identity, while nationalism is embraced for celebrating the distinctiveness of a society.

Broadly speaking, the West has been less at ease than Asia with treating nationalism as a natural byproduct of economic progress — though history explains why Germany and Japan remain cautious about it, while Russia and Turkey display it more openly. As Jaishankar writes: “The linkage between globalization, regime credibility, and return history is unmistakable. The real truth about this revival of nationalism is that it has actually been quite a durable basis for organizing societies. At various times, it has defeated conflicting ideologies that appealed both to larger and narrower loyalties. Multinational empires struggled with nationalist sentiment and, by and large, lost out. But national entities that encountered sub-national dissensions have usually won. Western imperialism was eventually undone by nationalist sentiments awakening in their former colonies. Communism was the next of the transnational ideologies on a global scale. This too eventually foundered when socialism acquired national characteristics. The schism between the USSR and China, and later between China and Vietnam, affirmed the enduring appeal of nationalism.”

Returning to the Mahabharata, the constraints Arjuna faced on the battlefield were rooted as much in emotion as in strategy — a belief that conflict, by its nature, is self-destructive and spares no one. Even so, Arjuna entered the battle with clear resolve, encouraged by both Bheeshma Pitamah and Drona to fight with everything he had. Today, our constraints look more structural than emotional. A more technologically advanced world, for instance, is often more vulnerable despite its greater capabilities. Every nation prepares for worst-case scenarios, even as the reality on the ground demands sharper responses within an increasingly narrow window. India’s own strategic thinking is well captured in Kautilya’s four-fold approach: Sama, Dana, Danda, and Bheda (conciliation, incentive, punishment, and division).

It’s worth remembering smaller but pivotal players too — the Trigarta warriors, led by Susarma, allies of the Kauravas who bore a personal grudge against Arjuna and fought him to the death. Though Arjuna ultimately won, he lost his son Abhimanyu in the process — a reminder that even small, single-minded adversaries can cause lasting damage. India’s policy of non-alignment has, at different points, left the country uninvolved in conflicts yet still exposed to their consequences — and occasionally at risk of displeasing every side at once.

Consider, too, the moment when both Arjuna and Duryodhana approached Lord Krishna seeking his support. Though Arjuna arrived second, he was seen first. Offered a choice between Krishna’s army and his own personal involvement, Arjuna chose the latter — recognizing Krishna’s true, game-changing value. That same instinct should guide India’s approach to strengthening national security: understanding what others truly value, and where their limits lie, shapes any effective strategy. Much of Krishna’s role with the Pandavas, after all, was resolving dilemmas precisely when the usual rules stopped applying.

As nations grow stronger, the idea of any single nation becoming a superpower is itself inherently disruptive. Jaishankar outlines several downsides to superpower status: transitions between superpowers are rarely smooth; their coexistence is difficult even in good times; reconciling competing interests grows harder during collaboration; the pursuit of superpower status often affects a nation’s own citizens most directly; and ideological divides tend to deepen discrimination along the way.

Just as Lord Krishna served as the "game-changing strategist" and Arjuna as the "implementer," the Pandavas together represent integration — their complementary strengths a model for effective teamwork. This resonates strongly with India today, a country shaped by a distinctive blend of social pluralism and individualism. Our reputation for imperfect coordination often comes at the cost of excessive individualism, bureaucratic friction, and a lack of integration — challenges that can be addressed by focusing more deliberately on how Indian foreign policy plays out in practice. Few texts offer a better guide for this than the Mahabharata.

The Nizmo-Indian Defence

This chapter examines the long shadow cast by India’s past border decisions. The boundary negotiations of 1950 and the 1954 agreement on Tibet both carry significant weight, and a closer look reveals how much hope, rather than hard calculation, shaped them. Decisions made six decades ago still influence the present, regardless of which side one takes.

From India’s vantage point, political and military events over the decades have hardened into deep public mistrust of China. As the power gap between the two countries has widened over the past twenty years, the relationship has continued to deteriorate. The 1962 conflict left a lasting wound on public trust, one that resurfaces each time the relationship is reassessed. As Jaishankar writes, “Indian minds do not have the same ability to move on that the Chinese have shown in respect of their own conflicts with Russia or Vietnam. The loser in the 1962 conflict was not just India but the relationship itself.”

China’s alliance with Pakistan adds another layer to this story, and its origins are worth revisiting. Political convenience lies at its core: Pakistan needs China to balance India’s power, especially after Western interest in that role faded. China, in turn, needs Pakistan as it works to expand its own global influence. It’s worth asking why a relationship with so little cultural common ground has proven so durable — the answer lies in mutual strategic benefit: it keeps India confined within South Asia while giving China a pathway into the Islamic world. As Jaishankar puts it, “If India did not see this coming when it first did, it could only be in allowing the first principles of balance of power to be clouded by nobler goals of a better world.”

The Dogmas of Delhi — Overcoming the Hesitations of History

This chapter opens with a nod to Einstein’s idea that repeating the same actions while expecting different outcomes rarely works. India’s actions, Jaishankar argues, must evolve alongside the world’s. Once again, technology sits at the heart of new global tensions, alongside connectivity and trade — and climate change adds a further layer, as the opening of Arctic sea routes reshapes geopolitics.

Here, Jaishankar traces the evolution of India’s foreign policy since independence across six distinct phases.

The first phase (1946–62) was marked by optimistic non-alignment, set against a bipolar world led by the US and USSR. India resisted having its choices constrained or its sovereignty diluted as it rebuilt its economy and consolidated its independence. As one of the first decolonized nations, India also sought to lead Asia and Africa toward a more equitable global order. This period saw energetic Indian diplomacy across Korea, Vietnam, Suez, and Hungary, with India’s standing on the world stage appearing secure — until the 1962 conflict with China dealt it a significant setback.

The second phase (1962–71) was a decade of realism and recovery, as India made more pragmatic choices on security and political matters while working with limited resources. The world remained broadly bipolar, though limited cooperation between the US and USSR began to emerge.

The third phase (1971–91) saw India assert itself more firmly within the region — beginning with the creation of Bangladesh, which decisively broke the old India-Pakistan equivalence, and ending with the difficult IPKF intervention in Sri Lanka. The global landscape had shifted dramatically by then, particularly after the 1971 Sino-US rapprochement upended existing strategic alignments. India responded with the Indo-Soviet Treaty and a more pro-Soviet stance on international issues — a complex period, made more so by the emerging US-China-Pakistan axis, which threatened India’s regional standing.

The fourth phase followed the USSR’s collapse and the rise of a unipolar world, prompting India to radically rethink its foreign policy and shift its focus toward safeguarding strategic autonomy.

During the fifth phase, India gradually established itself as a balancing power on the world stage — reflected in the India-US nuclear deal and deepening ties with the West. At the same time, India found common cause with China on climate change and trade, strengthened its relationship with Russia, and helped shape BRICS into a major global forum.

By 2014, a new set of developments marked the beginning of the sixth phase. China grew more assertive, and the terms it offered the world grew correspondingly firmer. Meanwhile, American engagement became less predictable, constrained by limited resources and a growing risk-aversion in the aftermath of the Iraq war — factors that together defined this latest chapter of India’s foreign policy.

Six Phases, Five Baskets

In this same chapter, Jaishankar lays out a “five baskets” framework distilling the key lessons India has drawn from its past.

The first basket concerns the broader need for realism in policymaking, particularly during India’s early phase of optimistic non-alignment. Several missteps stand out from this period: misreading Pakistan’s intentions, and a delayed prioritization of border security that came a full year too late. While the 1962 conflict with China wasn’t entirely unforeseen, India’s attention was spread thin across global politics, buoyed by an overconfidence that its standing in world affairs would shield it from turmoil. That said, India has never shied away from using force when necessary — its responses to the Kashmir conflict, Hyderabad in 1948, and Goa in 1961 make that clear.

The second basket concerns the strain that has weakened India’s ties with its neighbours over the years. Several factors stand out: an overreliance on diplomacy at the cost of understanding how neighbouring states actually behave; India’s overly optimistic approach to Pakistan at the 1972 Shimla Agreement, which ultimately worsened the situation in Jammu and Kashmir and emboldened an increasingly hostile Pakistan; a failure to fully grasp, in the 1950s, that India was dealing with a battle-hardened northern neighbour, or to appreciate the strategic weight of POK; and the long delay before India engaged Pakistan directly on ending cross-border terrorism. The lasting economic and strategic costs of these missteps make up the rest of this basket. What emerges clearly is the need for a more grounded Indian approach to international relations. Looking across the major growth stories since 1945, one common thread stands out: each of these countries made deliberate, sustained efforts to leverage the global environment for national development — China, for instance, did this skilfully with the USSR, the US, and the West alike.

The third basket centres on convergence. Development and diplomacy can never be pursued in isolation — they require multiple players working in tandem to expand the space for growth. India’s foreign policy, Jaishankar argues, rests on a basic consensus around protecting its independence. Global circumstances sometimes force a choice between sides; India navigated the first decade of the bipolar world well, but the phase that followed brought real anxiety about being left out altogether. The willingness to move past old dogmas in favour of convergence is what can guide India through today’s complexity. To the untrained eye, pursuing seemingly contradictory relationships — balancing a Howdy Modi rally with a Mamallapuram or Vladivostok summit, RIC (Russia-India-China) alongside JAI (Japan-America-India), or the Quad alongside the SCO — might look inconsistent. But convergence resolves that apparent contradiction. The same logic applies to relationships with Iran and Saudi Arabia, or Israel and Palestine.

The fourth basket deals with risk in diplomacy. A low-risk foreign policy tends to produce limited rewards. Not every risk needs to be dramatic, but each requires careful analysis and consistent follow-through to genuinely improve a country’s global standing.

The fifth basket is, in a sense, a return to fundamentals: reading the global landscape accurately. This means honestly assessing the opportunities, constraints, risks, and rewards on the table, then defining India’s interests clearly enough to pursue them with real determination.

Maritime Power and the Indian Ocean

Elsewhere, the book presents maritime power as central to national security. The Indo-Pacific, Jaishankar writes, is “an arena for the contemporary version of the Great Game, where multiple players with diverse ambitions display their strategic skills.” For India, focusing on the Indo-Pacific is a natural extension of its Act East policy and a step beyond the confines of South Asia. This shift has been driven largely by a more unpredictable American stance and China’s rise. As Jaishankar notes, “A decade ago, China debated the role of maritime power in its future. Part of that was to address a traditional strategy dilemma posed by the limitations of its eastern seaboard and multiple island chains beyond.” By 2009, that debate had broadened considerably, as Chinese policymakers came to accept that any future as a global power would necessarily require China to become a maritime one too.

Given India’s extensive coastline, developments across the Indian Ocean inevitably affect the country directly. The Indian Ocean sits at the heart of global trade, covering roughly a fifth of the world’s total ocean area and touching some 70,000 kilometres of coastline — yet India’s engagement with it has historically fallen short of its potential. Naval activity has grown steadily, and India has had to navigate the maritime implications of various connectivity initiatives as part of its own steady development. This shift eventually led to the 2015 launch of SAGAR (Security and Growth for All in the Region), aimed at keeping the Indian Ocean safe and secure, protecting islands and coastline, defending national interests, deepening cooperation with maritime nations, and supporting collective action on peace, emergencies, and sustainable development. As Jaishankar notes, the security challenges of the Indian Ocean are handled differently by each nation involved — “in case of India, they are essentially an outcome of national capabilities, buttressed by participation in relevant regional bodies.”

After the Virus

The book’s final chapter reflects on the broader truths the pandemic revealed. The way COVID-19 unfolded fed directly into the still-shifting dynamic between the US and China. Technology and adaptive strategy carried us through the immediate crisis, but in its aftermath, we're likely to see a shift toward regionalization, de-globalization, shorter supply chains, and greater self-reliance (Atmanirbharta). The damage caused by the pandemic calls for a genuine strategy of national revival — one that demands a fundamental rethink of India’s growth model.

As Jaishankar writes: “As India has discovered in the past, economic strategies have to be in consonance not only with its own national situation, but the global one as well. If we are significantly out of step with the world, as we were by 1991, then they are difficult to sustain. Three decades later, India’s capabilities, competitiveness and trade are under stress, this time for very different reasons. The post-1991 belief that we could rely on the costing of others abroad to build our own businesses at home clearly has a high price. A lowest-bidder syndrome and obsessive quest for profit margins has ended up eroding domestic capabilities. Even more, the efficiency of others, instead of spurring competitiveness, has actually led to putting off further reforms. Openness abroad ironically has led to stagnation at home, discouraging innovation, and killing MSMEs borne the brunt of the damage. While the pandemic may have brought out weaknesses pertaining to health security, it has also exposed this larger strategic complacency.” Throughout, Jaishankar holds fear and confidence, breakdown and awakening, problems and solutions, and hopelessness and hope in careful balance.

Style and Structure

The book reads almost like an extended allegory, drawing heavily on examples from the Mahabharata throughout. Its analysis is enriched by a thoughtful blend of aphorism, globalism, realism, and convergence, presented without bias or unnecessary hedging — Jaishankar says exactly what he means. The writing style remains distinct and consistent, reinforcing the book’s message at every turn.

One of the book’s more elegant touches is how each chapter opens, quietly signalling its themes from the very first lines. I particularly enjoyed the opening of "The Lessons of Awadh," which draws a clever parallel to Satyajit Ray’s film about two Indian nawabs absorbed in a chess game — a metaphor for self-absorbed political leadership — while a third party, the British East India Company, quietly annexes the kingdom of Awadh around them. It's a fitting nod to the pre-independence era, and the events in Awadh offer real lessons: chief among them, that international relations must always be anticipated and analysed so opportunities can be seized at the right moment. Jaishankar highlights the missed opportunities for economic development that came from India turning inward at key moments. As he writes: “While the 1971 Bangladesh War, the 1991 economic reform, the 1998 nuclear tests, and the 2005 nuclear deal were exercises in strategic retrieval, it nevertheless told on your overall standing. It is only more recently that a stronger realpolitik has overcome a complacency based on entrenched dogma.”

Final Thoughts

Each chapter is carefully constructed, and together they form a coherent, unified understanding of international politics. Readers come away with exposure to a wide range of analytical frameworks, all woven into a single, cohesive narrative. Students of Indian polity in particular will find this an invaluable companion — a far more experiential way to engage with the subject than any textbook. I'd recommend it especially to undergraduate and postgraduate students, as well as those preparing for civil services and other government exams. Once you start reading, it's genuinely hard to put down. You may also notice a side effect: your own critical-thinking instincts sharpening whenever you watch or read the news, prompting you to read between the lines and dig into the context behind each story.

This is not a book for casual, leisurely reading — it's meant for serious thinkers with an eye for detail and an interest in the strategy of statecraft. Grounded in realism and real-world experience, The India Way reads like an intellectual training ground for the future of international relations, cross-border politics, security, and uncertainty. Which path should India choose — pragmatic analysis, or something more agnostic? The book leaves you to find your own answer, presenting the past as a set of lessons that can help frame India's road ahead.

Grab a copy of the book — available in physical format from Amazon or as a Kindle edition. Read it, and let us know your thoughts.

Signing off,  
Smruti S. Samantray