A S Dulat’s ‘The Chief Minister and the Spy’ is a memoir and an insider’s reflection on thirty-seven years of companionship between two unlikely allies—Farooq Abdullah, the former Chief Minister of Jammu and Kashmir, and Dulat himself, a top intelligence officer who headed R&AW and worked closely with the Intelligence Bureau.
Through detailed narratives and personal conversations, Dulat gives the reader access to the personal and political world of Farooq Abdullah, offering insights into the complex relationship between Srinagar and New Delhi.
The book is divided into ten chapters and covers events from the 1980s to the present day, making it a rare record of both intelligence and political life during Kashmir’s most turbulent decades.
In the foreword written by M K Narayanan, former National Security Advisor of India, Farooq Abdullah is referred to as the tallest of modern-day Kashmiri leaders and a man who played a significant role in keeping the state with India. Narayanan calls the book “an honest and unvarnished account” of recent Kashmir history.
This sets the tone for what follows—a narrative that is as emotional as it is analytical, deeply personal and yet sharply political. Dulat begins his story by clarifying that this is not a biography but a memoir—a tale told from his point of view, based on conversations, experiences, and impressions rather than structured research. The book does not follow a strict historical method but rather flows like a stream of memory—sometimes detailed, sometimes reflective, and sometimes speculative.
‘Affectionate but Unpredictable Farooq’
The first chapter, “Getting to Know the Chief Minister,” introduces Farooq Abdullah as an enigma—a man who is charismatic, proud, affectionate, unpredictable, and fiercely independent. Dulat’s early encounters with Farooq in 1987, when he was posted to Srinagar, are described with the freshness of a personal diary. He recounts how difficult it was to pin Farooq down or fully understand him, despite spending years in close professional proximity.
Dulat shows Farooq as someone who enjoys power but also resents being controlled. He is described as warm and spontaneous but also known to pull away without warning.
A major theme in the book is the tension between Kashmir and Delhi. Dulat repeatedly suggests that the central government never really understood the emotional and political landscape of Kashmir in which, he argues, Farooq Abdullah played the role of a bridge.
One of the early moments Dulat discusses is the infamous 1987 Assembly election, which is widely believed to have been rigged and for being a major turning point in Kashmir’s political crisis, leading to the rise of militancy and the alienation of the Kashmiri youth. Dulat reiterates this.
Dulat, however, defends Farooq Abdullah, saying the real blame lies with Delhi and its bureaucrats. Dulat also emotionally recounts the rise of militancy in 1989–90, particularly the kidnapping of Home Minister Mufti Mohammad Sayeed's daughter, Rubaiya.
He reveals that Farooq Abdullah, criticised for being in London during the crisis, was actually mentally exhausted and demoralised by Delhi's unsupportive attitude and constant interference, leading to his depression and resignation. Dulat maintains that Delhi was blaming Farooq while providing little real support.
Debunking the 'stooge' narrative around Farooq Abdullah, who's often labeled as Delhi's puppet, Dulat argues that Farooq was actually balancing his people's needs with state compulsions, calls him a political survivor who stayed angry yet cooperative while understanding the stakes. The book reveals Farooq maintained communication lines even with separatists because he grasped the Valley's emotional pulse better than any Delhi politician.
‘The Personal Bonds’
The author also opens up about his personal connection with Farooq. They play golf, share meals, travel together, and sometimes confide in each other. This relationship is unique, especially in the context of Kashmir where the intelligence machinery is often seen as an arm of control and suppression.
Dulat admits that this closeness may have led some to see him as “Farooq’s man” rather than Delhi’s man. But he defends this position, saying that in complex regions like Kashmir, it is human connection—not just reports and files—that builds real understanding.
While Dulat’s admiration for Farooq Abdullah forms the emotional core of the book, some readers might feel that this closeness leaves less room for critical distance.
However, it is precisely this personal bond that allows Dulat to offer rare insights into the human side of politics in Kashmir—something often missing in official narratives. Rather than a detached account, the memoir invites readers into a space of trust, where understanding is built through empathy, memory, and long-standing relationships.
The Controversy
The book has been caught in a controversy over Farooq Abdullah's 2020 quote about Article 370's abrogation. "We would have helped. Why were we not taken into confidence?" Dulat quotes him. Many have interpreted this as willingness to collaborate in revoking Article 370. However, Dulat presents this as hurt and exclusion, not consent. He writes: “If that sounds like a contradiction… let me tell you – Farooq is a contradiction himself.”
He views Farooq's remark as a frustrated lament from a leader feeling betrayed by Delhi's unilateral actions, voicing grievance about being excluded from dialogue, not offering political compromise. This underscores the chapter's central message - Delhi's failure to engage mainstream Kashmiri leaders has severely damaged mutual trust.
The Chief Minister and the Spy offers a nuanced portrayal of a political leader who has been both celebrated and vilified. Dulat admits there are things about Farooq he never understood, but tells a story rooted in trust and realism.
His deep and unabashed admiration for Farooq Abdullah is the main highlight of the book and he concludes that Farooq Abdullah maintains an ability to connect with diverse groups, even those with differing views, demonstrating his continued relevance in Kashmir's politics.
The language of the book is simple, often casual, and highly readable. It avoids jargon and keeps the tone conversational. This helps the reader feel like they are part of an ongoing dialogue rather than reading a dry political analysis. Dulat also includes humour, irony, and personal reflections, which make the book engaging and relatable, even for readers who may not be deeply familiar with Kashmir’s politics.
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