Taya Zinkin writing in the "Manchester Guardian" under the caption "No money on Trees" has some bitter truths to say.

"When the finance minister,
Mr. Krishnamachari set out in search of a world where money grows on trees to support the second five-year plan, Indians were over-confident that he would come back with a handsome bonanza. On his return today he said that he went without expectation and came back without disappointment."

Forgetting the satire running through these lines, one cannot possibly deny the truth behind the statement. T.T.K, has returned empty handed, of course he ought to be rich with experience, would have of course gained valuable friendship, none would refuse to concede it—but yet the fact remains, that he got not what he sought for.

There is a literary flavour in his statement, "went without expectation and came back without disappointment," but the flavour in the style is no compensation for the failure of the mission.

Possibly, he was aware, unlike his Master, of certain shortcomings, in his method or manner, mental equipment or ability in presenting a good case without creating a bad taste—and so, he might have gone without much expectation—but the country was certainly expecting something tangible from out of his mission—and disappointment is not the word, the country is dismayed at the dismal failure.

"I succeded to a great extent in creating a healthy climate there—I placed all the facts before them—and they were all made to appreciate our viewpoint"— says T.T.K, and perhaps that would be his theme before the Parliament when he arises to narrate his tale about the mission.

The fear entertained in certain quarters, that this failure would so infuriate Pandit Nehru, that he would bid good-bye to T.T.K, has been proved to be false. The Master perhaps feels, that it is an asset to possess a finance minister, with a record of dutiful service, though with dismal failure. We are not endowed with the art of probing into the thoughts of the political pontiffs. We, along with the millions, feel, that if only Pandit Nehru cared to choose some one more fitted for such a delicate task, the result would not have been so dark.

We have seen the sorry spectacle, of a finance minister picturing the poverty of this land, its anxiety to do away with it, and its inability to do it without aid from abroad—and after such a narration get in return only sly smiles and theatrical sights.

The fact is, countries with the 'billions,' are not enamoured of hearing about 'plans' alone—but about policies. And in that, we are not definite.

In fact, whether we get 'aids' or no, those at the top, should, before launching up their 'rockets' test them in the laboratory of thought. Instances are not wanting to prove that there is an inherent weakness and defect in our planning itself. And if we term it as 'Planless Planning' we are not playing on words, nor are we attempting to wound the feelings of those Top-men who are imbued with the best of motives.

They rush on, we are afraid, planning without any thought about the resources that could be marshalled. And after taking long strides, they find themselves blocked, for want of finance; then they make frantic efforts to get aid, grant, loan, money, machinery, anything to bridge the gulf that has arisen.

"Gone are the days when Mr. Nehru asserted that India would be self-sufficient by the end of 1952. Now he is talking like Sir Winston of tears and sweat and promising at the end of it all a minimum of progress not much more than sufficient to keep conditions from becoming worse for each new stomach."
—Writes Taya Zinkin.

So, the optimism expressed and the prediction made by Pandit Nehru have failed him and the country—and we are where we were—"too many stomachs and not enough food."

Why this sorry state of affairs? That, we fear is exactly because, the planning is itself defective.

What is being done here under the name of planning is actually 'project creating' and scheme drafting.

Real planning means the building up of a comprehensive picture of the country's needs balanced against its available resources.

Formulation of a clear-cut policy, and a decision on objectives, are the criterion of sound planning, and how confused the government of the day is, can best be seen, by the statements issued by the Top-men, and how contradictory they are.

While T.T.K, facing an audience composed of tight-lipped financiers, talks about the policy of his government about Nationalisation, another Top leader harangues before an audience here, that the major industries are to be nationalised soon. Perhaps, it may be, that while T.T.K's mission is to get dollars, the top leader who waxed eloquent about his government's determination to push though nationalisation, thought that his duty was to cajole the masses and get their votes. But those with the billion smell, either a paradox, or an insincerity, and hence are unwilling to back up such an elusive customer.

T.T.K.'s failure has got the immediate lesson, 'No money on Trees' but the other and more important lesson to be learnt is this, 'No Honey in Plans'.

This is the time, not for false prestige, but for some hard thinking.

It is now freely stated that the size of the plan is to be cut—Pandit Nehru after heroically maintaining the Citadel, has now come out, —and is retreating—but he should not remain too long in a valley of indecision, but call a top level conference of experts, economists, and leaders of political parties, and probe into the problem of planning in the present context.

If he tells his countrymen that they should shed their blood and sweat, they are entitled to know, for what?

(Editorial -17-11-1957)