Sonia Gandhi has been one of the most powerful political figures in Indian history, but her rise was forged not through ambition alone, but through profound personal loss.
Assassination of Indira Gandhi
On the morning of 31 October 1984, Sonia Gandhi was a young wife and mother living in Delhi's prime minister's residence. She heard shots ring out in the garden—sounds like firecrackers, yet 'different'. The children's nanny burst into the bathroom door, hysterical, pointing toward the outside.
Sonia ran to the path where she saw a white Ambassador car moving slowly. Inside lay her mother-in-law, Indira Gandhi, India’s then-prime minister, covered in blood, her sari stained, eyes open, face frozen in what Sonia remembers as surprise.
At the hospital, after hours of waiting, a doctor shook his head—a silent confirmation that she was dead. Moments later, Rajiv Gandhi arrived from a rally in West Bengal and told Sonia: 'They will kill you; they will kill you too.' He replied only: 'They will kill me anyway.'
Rajiv's Assassination and Personal Grief
In 1991, Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated—his death marking another devastating loss for Sonia. The public appearances she had to make through memorial trusts became unbearable. When asked by the Dalai Lama whether she felt vengeance toward those who killed her husband, she answered: 'No, I don't,' before bursting into sobs.
She writes that over time, Rajiv became a presence within her rather than an absence—a quiet force shaping how she viewed duty and grief.
The Rise of Political Pressure
After Rajiv’s death, political instability grew in Congress Party. Senior leaders began defecting; calls for Sonia to step into leadership intensified. She initially resisted, writing that politics had shown both its achievements and flaws—its ambition, greed, hypocrisy and treachery.
'I'd always disliked politics,' she says. 'It took first my mother-in-law, then the love of my life, my children's father.'
Yet as time passed, walking past photos of Indira and Rajiv triggered a mix of pain and guilt. She feared rising Hindu nationalism was undermining India’s secular ethos—the vision her family had long defended.
The Decision to Lead
Congress leaders argued that without Sonia, the party would splinter, leaving little resistance against communal politics. The family name, she believed, carried appeal beyond religion, caste or region—this became ‘the most compelling argument’ for her involvement.
In January 1997, despite not being religious in adult life, Sonia arranged private lessons with a Sanskrit scholar. After studying the Bhagavad Gita verse by verse, she found clarity: 'to perform one's dharma without attachment to outcomes.' She concluded: 'I had the answer to my own doubts and questions. I had to step out and go where my duty called. And I did.'
Political Moment of Leadership
After Congress won the 2004 election, Sonia led the campaign. On an official visit to Delhi’s presidential palace, she accompanied Manmohan Singh to meet India’s president and formally stake the party’s claim to form government.
All expected her to become prime minister. Instead, she told a senior aide she intended to refuse. Party workers gathered at the gates; colleagues demanded a meeting: 'You fought the election, you led us,' one said. 'People believed in you. How can you let them down like this? Our workers will revolt.'
The alliance leaders surrounded her—some insisted they would not take no for an answer. Overwhelmed, Sonia murmured 'Theek hai' — all right. They interpreted it as consent and began congratulating her.
Her memoir, Belonging: A Journey of Love, does not offer political analysis or ideological judgment beyond what is recorded. It presents grief, memory, and personal transformation—not a defense of any policy, nor a justification of the Congress Party’s actions during that era.