'Will Have To Come For Pa's Funeral': Sonia Gandhi Recalls Rahul's Warning

Sonia Gandhi recalls the fateful evening when Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated in Sriperumbudur, Tamil Nadu, in her memoir "Belonging: A Journey of Love".

10 Nov 2026, 05:22 · NDTV

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Sonia Gandhi recalls Rajiv Gandhi's assassination in her memoir "Belonging: A Journey of Love"
Rajiv Gandhi was killed by a woman with explosives in Sriperumbudur in 1991
SPG security cover was withdrawn before the assassination despite recommendations

Who was held accountable for the security failure?
New Delhi:

As Sonia Gandhi's world came crashing down on May 21, 1991, when Rajiv Gandhi was killed in an explosion, the eerie premonition made by her son Rahul echoed in her mind.

"If something isn't done about Pa's security, I know I'll soon have to come back for his funeral," Rahul had told his mother just two months earlier while on a tour with Rajiv.

Sonia Gandhi recalls the fateful evening when Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated in Sriperumbudur, Tamil Nadu, in her memoir "Belonging: A Journey of Love". A woman on the pretense of offering him a garland detonated the explosives strapped to her body, killing the former prime minister and 14 others in his vicinity.

The final attempt on Rajiv's life came a little over a year after his SPG cover was withdrawn by the VP Singh government, even though a committee met in December and decided that the Special Protection Group cover must continue "unless a change was warranted by some fresh threat assessment", Gandhi writes.

"No such review was ever undertaken. The very next month the SPG cover was withdrawn by the VP Singh government. A specialised force in a whole system trained to provide proximate security was replaced with the local police," Gandhi writes.

She remembers the day as any other, while she found a "sense of comfort" on Rajiv's side of the bed whenever he was away, Priyanka was getting ready in her room to go to a friend's birthday party. Rahul was in college in the US.

"Suddenly I heard footsteps running down the corridor towards my room. No one else was in the house; it could only have been her. I thought I heard her stumbling, then the footsteps stopped abruptly at my door. I shut my book and listened, feeling uneasy."

"When the door opened, she entered slowly, her steps deliberate. She seemed to be stilling herself, moving with forced calm as she walked up to me. But her breath was fast and shallow, the colour had drained from her face, and her eyes were darker than I had ever seen them before," Gandhi writes in the book.

Priyanka informed her about a phone call, a bomb explosion, people dying, and urging her to get ready to go to Madras. Little of it made sense to Gandhi.

"I couldn't understand what she was saying, she was speaking fast, and nothing was making sense. Why Madras? Was Rajiv in Madras? What bomb? It was less her words than the dread in Priyanka's voice that froze me into realising what she really meant. I couldn't breathe. I stood up, she stepped forward and held me in her arms. I could feel her heart thumping wildly against my chest," she writes.

The next few minutes were spent trying to figure out what had happened as numerous calls were made to party seniors and close friends before the enormity of the news hit Gandhi.

"I crumpled in my daughter's arms. 'I should have gone with him,' I cried out, again and again. 'Why didn't I go with him?' She said nothing. Disbelieving, clinging to hope, I dialled Mr. George myself. 'Just tell me, is it true?' His voice faltered. 'Yes it is true, Sahab is no more.' I felt as if my world had gone dark, and that darkness had swallowed me whole."

Even as her recollection of many details of that time remain "sketchy", Gandhi remembered staff members sobbing, wailing in the corridor and a daughter who was "broken but composed".

"Much later, some moments returned to my mind, but to this day my own memories here are mixed with what has been recounted to me by my daughter and others. I saw a cluster of staff members huddled together, sobbing, tears streaming down their faces, the children's nanny, Ongmu, wailing loudly. I retreated; my head was spinning. I could barely feel my legs. I was about to fall. Priyanka saw me, she held me up and took me to her room, made me sit on her bed."

"Rajiv's beloved daughter was broken but composed. Priyanka hadn't cried in front of me, not once. She took charge of everything, darting between her room and Rahul's. From there she could shield her mother from hearing anything that might add to her agony. She was making phone calls, arguing with some-one: 'Let us go on the plane that's bringing him back. Please. If you don't allow us, we'll make our own arrangements," she said forcefully. "But we will go'," Gandhi recalls.

When his last remains were flown back to AIIMS in Delhi, she felt a strong urge to see Rajiv as she was reminded of "a moment, a word, a loving gaze" and remembered that he had donated his eyes, just like his mother.

"I had to tell someone his wishes. I thought of our family physician, who was always with us at times of crisis. 'Is Dr. Mathur here?' I asked. 'I need to speak to him urgently, right now it's important.' The doctor's bitter response 'Aankhen? Arre kya baat karte bo, kuchh nahin bacha hai, kucch nahin!' (Eyes? What are you talking about? There's nothing left, nothing!) dealt me a blow that made me sick to the stomach, it made me want to throw up. I couldn't breathe. I wanted to die," the book reads.

Rahul was reached at last.

"A friend had called him to say, 'Buri khabar hai' (It's bad news), and he'd replied immediately, 'Papa is dead, isn't he? I hold him tight. Had there not been a hitch in his schedule, he would have been in Sriperumbudur, right there by Rajiv's side. Now he stands motionless by his father's remains," Gandhi recalls.

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