India, July 3 -- I write this as India marks the 50th anniversary of the 1975 Emergency, during which the Constitution itself was weaponised to create a dictatorship. My father, Arun Jaitley, is remembered as amongst the most eloquent leaders of the nation, a staunch nationalist, astute politician, lawyer par excellence and a unique consensus builder, who worked relentlessly to ensure collaborative process till the result was something that every member could at least accept, if not support. Curious, I once asked how he had much forbearance for the diametrically opposite views of others. He responded with lessons learned from the Emergency, and what it had cost to safeguard the right to voice an opinion different from that of those in power. In 1973, it became evident that the government led by Indira Gandhi had neither the intention nor the ability to alter its economic policies that had led to high inflation and mass unemployment. My father was at this time, an aspiring law student and Delhi University (DU) Students Union president. Noting the change in political winds and the wave of student agitations inspired by Jayaprakash Narayan (JP), my father convened a rally in the DU campus which JP addressed. The rally witnessed an unprecedented turnout, grabbing the attention of the Congress leadership. Within the year, Mrs Gandhi lost her position as MP pursuant to the Raj Narain case, mounting pressure for her resignation. This led to declaration of the Emergency in the intervening night of June 25-26, 1975. Articles 14, 19, 21 and 22 also stood suspended. The same night, Opposition leaders were arrested, and the police arrived at my father's home. My grandfather, a lawyer, asked the police for documents supporting such detention, ensuring that my father escaped in the interim. No newspapers were delivered on June 26 as electricity to Bahadur Shah Zafar Marg, where most newspapers were situated, having been disconnected. My father's efforts to ascertain the gravity of the situation were in vain. Undeterred, he arrived at the DU campus with a plan to deliver a speech against the Emergency and then escape with the help of a friend who owned a scooter. Such was the terror of the Emergency however, that even the strongest of friendships wavered, and when my father arrived at the location, he found neither vehicle nor friend. He was arrested under the Maintenance of Internal Security Act and lodged in Tihar jail. My father took great pride in being the first satyagrahi against the Emergency. While my father was transferred to Ambala central jail after a week, his family was in the dark. Some rumours suggested that he had been sent to Kala Paani (Andamans), and others that he had been killed. My grandmother was overcome with grief and her health took a turn for the worse. My grandfather, torn between anguish and duty to hold the family together, used every resource to locate my father, and thereafter, ensure his transfer to Delhi. He filed petitions to enable my father to write his final year examination from jail. However, these were rejected on the ground that he was a threat to public order. He thus lost an academic year during his 19-month imprisonment. The loss was insignificant when compared to what his family endured. With my grandmother debilitated and my grandfather dedicating himself to ensuring my father's survival, it fell to his eldest sister Madhu, to manage her own home in Bikaner, as also that of my grandparents. She would travel by train weekly, for three days, cook as much food as possible and depart, to repeat this every fourth day. She recalls meeting my father in jail for a few minutes each month when she would carry food for him. On one occasion she received a message that he had requested Chinese food from Majnu ka Tila for 15 persons, and momentarily she smiled, relieved that the foodie in him was still alive. Her other memories are more sobering. She recounts the day my grandfather received a phone call, informing him that my father had had an accident and was breathing his last at AIIMS. My grandfather, who until then had maintained composure through insurmountable moments of anxiety, could bear it no longer and suffered a heart attack. The rumour was untrue, but neither the first nor the last of its kind. Relatives would describe the torture of political prisoners in excruciating detail, which caused family members to withdraw. Friends quietly distanced themselves fearing consequences, and loyal staff quit, as police constantly circled the house, tormenting those who offered support. "No one," she said, "No one wanted to be associated with us." Eventually, political prisoners began to be released on the pre-condition of a written apology to the government. However, my family never got their hopes up, knowing that this was against everything my father stood for. With their own lives at a standstill, they took solace in the fact that my father was with like-minded people. My father later said that prison is a state of mind. If one allowed oneself to be overwhelmed, it would result in depression and traumatic experiences. But if you were thinking of fighting the Emergency, you felt fine. Gradually, international pressure mounted, which led to snap elections being announced on January 18, 1977. The short timeline was aimed to debilitate the Opposition, as the plan was to release prominent leaders only post elections. My father was released on January 25, 1977, and he went on to play a pivotal role in the general election. The Janata Party won a resounding victory, alleviating fears of the polls being farcical. This led my father to believe that democracy lies in the hearts of the people. When it dies there, no Constitution can save it, and no judge can protect it. Until then, it is safe and as immortal as India is....