DKS: The man perpetually waiting in the wings

New Delhi,UPDATED: Apr 13, 2026 12:41 IST

In politics, as in life, we are told that loyalty and hard work are the surest paths to reward. It is a comforting belief, that if you stand by your party through storms, you will eventually find your place in the sun. But for DK Shivakumar, the Congress party’s indefatigable troubleshooter, that promise must feel increasingly hollow. In the intricate theatre of Indian politics, he is learning the hard way that loyalty is often praised in public, only to be sidelined in private.

Shivakumar is routinely entrusted with the party’s most delicate operations, yet curiously kept at arm’s length from the grand prizes of power. We saw this play out again ahead of the recent biennial Rajya Sabha elections.

When a group of Congress legislators from Odisha appeared in Bengaluru—sparking speculation that they had been moved to prevent cross-voting—Shivakumar found himself at the centre of the storm. Yet, when pressed by journalists, his response was characteristically restrained. He insisted he had not “brought them there,” and was merely following instructions from the leadership.

It was a classic Shivakumar moment: dutiful, cautious, and quietly revealing. It hinted at a recurring, somewhat uncomfortable truth within the Congress ecosystem—responsibility flows downward, but recognition rarely travels upward.

For years, Shivakumar has been the party’s dependable crisis manager, the man called upon when the ship is rocking. His reputation as a master political operator was cemented during the dramatic 2019 Karnataka crisis. As coalition partners defected and the government teetered on the brink, he worked relentlessly to hold together a fragile alliance, arranging safe houses, coordinating logistics, and managing the chaotic arithmetic of a floor test.

Those efforts ultimately failed and the government fell. Yet within the party, Shivakumar’s stature only grew: a loyal soldier willing to fight even unwinnable battles. The pattern repeated itself in Madhya Pradesh and Rajasthan. Whenever the Congress needed someone to negotiate, persuade, or apply pressure, Shivakumar was the go-to man.

In a political culture where defections have become routine, his logistical acumen is highly valued. He is the fixer who ensures the numbers add up. But here in lies the paradox: being indispensable has not translated into ultimate authority. It has not even guaranteed national prominence.

Shivakumar’s career lays bare a subtle, often frustrating hierarchy within the Congress. There are leaders who command the spotlight—figures like Rahul Gandhi or Mallikarjun Kharge, who shape the party’s ideological direction. And then there are operational leaders like Shivakumar—the backstage architects who ensure the machinery keeps running. Their work is critical, yet it often goes under-acknowledged by the high command.

In Karnataka, his journey has been long and turbulent. A grassroots organiser, he has built influence over decades, cultivating an extensive network across the state. When the Congress returned to power with a sweeping mandate in 2023, many believed his moment had finally arrived. Having led the state unit and played a pivotal role in the campaign, the Chief Minister’s chair seemed within reach.

Instead, the post went to Siddaramaiah. Shivakumar had to settle for the deputy’s role, accompanied by a whispered promise of elevation after two-and-a-half years. That promise still hangs in the air, unfulfilled—leaving his supporters asking: what more must he do?

To be fair, such dynamics are not new to Congress politics. The party has long balanced charismatic central leadership with powerful regional figures, often wary of allowing any single state leader to grow too dominant. The Odisha episode fits neatly into this pattern. Managing legislators from another state may appear routine to outsiders, but within the party, it signals deep trust. Yet, as Shivakumar knows too well, trust does not guarantee power.

His career is defined by this imbalance. He shoulders the burden of sensitive assignments but seldom reaps the rewards when things go right. The spotlight remains with the high command, while the operator retreats into the shadows. It raises a fundamental question: can the Congress continue to rely on leaders who carry immense responsibility without granting them commensurate authority?

History offers a cautionary tale. When loyal lieutenants see opportunity slip away too often, frustration can give way to rebellion. The party has witnessed this before in the departures of figures like Himanta Biswa Sarma, Jyotiraditya Scindia, and many others. Leaders who eventually found both space and reward elsewhere.

So far, Shivakumar has shown no sign of breaking ranks. His public posture remains one of disciplined, almost stoic loyalty. Even his remark about the Odisha legislators—“I was only following instructions”—sounded less like a complaint and more like a soldier fulfilling his duty.

But the question lingers: how long can a patient soldier wait?

For now, Shivakumar continues to play the role assigned to him—the organiser, the negotiator, the man who holds the ladder for others. In the quiet corridors of power, that role carries influence. But influence is not authority. And in the Congress party’s intricate hierarchy, the man holding the ladder is rarely the one allowed to climb it.

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The author is Managing Editor, India Today TV