Sikkim presents a paradox for Southasia. It is an enormously prosperous state, but one whose economy flourishes due only to largesse from New Delhi. Significant potentials for mountain tourism, agro-forestry and hydropower do exist, but for now the Sikkimese are rich merely because of the INR 150 million that the Indian government pours into the state (population 5.4 lakhs by the 2001 census) every year. And that figure is only the direct government support, which is supplemented by much ancillary assistance, from rural road-building to self-employment schemes. But will the state be able to stand on its own once the pampering, inevitably, comes to an end? For now, in the rush to access the official munificence, few seem to be asking this question – nor working to upgrade the local human resource, first and foremost through an upgradation of education. The unchecked rush to the future is also visible in the Gangtok government opening up the great Teesta river and its tributaries to hydropower extraction without reference to the environment, culture and economics.
Sikkim owes its enviable status as a sump for central funds to two factors. First is the sensitive border with Tibet, which the state abuts. And second is the ghost, so to speak, of the 1975 merger, when a New Delhi-engineered move brought the formerly independent protectorate within the Indian Union. Both of these factors today lead New Delhi to close its eyes to the inefficiencies, wastage and corruption that take place in this particular Centre-state relationship. The sensitivity of the Indian security establishment to the border with China, of course, goes back to the 1962 war, in which New Delhi was found unprepared and emerged humiliated. The aftermath has been a heightened sensitivity, if not paranoia, regarding the northern frontier, which colours New Delhi's dealing with the entire rimland, including Bhutan and Nepal. For its part, Sikkim provides the closest point to the Tibetan Plateau, to the metropolitan centres of the Ganga basin. Besides the 200,000 soldiers that are stationed in the frontier there, India remains massively aware of the need not to make the local population unhappy. And so, the cheque-book is always out.
New Delhi is also alert to the fact that Sikkim is not a lingering flotsam of Partition, such as the Kashmir problem. Nor is the issue one of discontent within the already-charted boundaries of independent India, as is extant in the Northeast and especially Nagaland. Instead, Sikkim was a kingdom ruled by a Bhutia chogyal ('dharma raja'), which was peaceably brought within the ambit of the Indian state. This is a unique provenance, which provides the Sikkimese with the opportunity to make demands of the Indian exchequer like no other.
As such, the chief minister for the last 15 years, Pawan Chamling, has an unprecedented opportunity to prepare Sikkim for the future. First and foremost, he has to train the populace and economy for the day when the charm of Sikkim's uniqueness begins to wear off. But can he do it, amidst the ennui evident in Sikkim that comes from having it easy, and the larger problems within and without the state? As we speak, Chamling is in an unassailable position as chief minister: politically astute and with a full war chest. The opposition, represented by former chief minister, Nar Bahadur Bhandari, was decimated in the last state assembly elections, in April, when Chamling's Sikkim Democratic Front swept all MLA seats. He was also powerful enough within his party to deny seats to all of 21 sitting MLAs, thus providing opportunity to a new crop of elected politicos – and simultaneously rejuvenating the party. Yet there are indications of an autocratic bent that could stifle dissent, which would certainly not prepare the state for an evolution into the 'knowledge society' that the chief minister claims to want.