BENGALURU: Long before he mastered Karnataka’s complex political equations, before he became the Congress party’s chief troubleshooter and one of the state’s most influential leaders, D K
Shivakumar had already made up his mind about one thing: He was destined to lead.
The signs were visible early. In the villages of old Mysuru region in Karnataka, soothsayers and astrologers were familiar visitors. They would move from house to house, reading palms and predicting futures, while some forecasts were serious some were merely comforting words meant to please families. As a kid, Shivakumar was fascinated by these sessions.
One day, when an astrologer had visited his home, his sister
Manjula stretched out her palm, eager to know what fate had in store for her. Before the astrologer could respond, a young Shivakumar reportedly interrupted with striking confidence. “I will be the one shaping everyone’s fate one day. Why do you want to listen to him?”
The remark stunned the family. At the time, it sounded like the exaggerated confidence of a mischievous village boy. But the words stayed etched in Manjula’s memory for decades. Today, as Shivakumar stands on the cusp of occupying Karnataka’s highest political office, the statement appears less like childhood arrogance and more like a declaration of intent.
For those who have observed Shivakumar’s political journey closely, one theme stands out consistently: Every attempt to stop him only made him more determined! Ironically, the roots of that relentless political instinct can be traced back to his school days, when he faced repeated denial of leadership roles.
Shivakumar’s first brush with electoral politics came after an academic setback. He had been thrown out from National Public School, then known for its rigid standards and reputation as one of the country’s pioneering institutions. He later joined Carmel School for two years. That move would change his life.
Carmel School introduced him to student elections when he was in the sixth standard, and the young Shivakumar immediately plunged into campaigning. He contested for the post of school secretary. His election symbol was a star.
“I mobilised support and garnered majority votes,” Shivakumar later recalled while narrating the episode. But what happened next left a deep impression on him. When the results were announced, his name was missing. Instead, a studious girl, whom he described as the ‘school pet’, was declared by the school administration as the winner. To pacify him, the school created a separate post, that of the sports secretary. Many students would have quietly accepted the decision and moved on. Shivakumar did not.
“By then everyone knew about it. They knew my leadership. Students rallied behind me and I used to actually run the show,” he later said. The incident became a turning point. More importantly, it ignited what he describes as an “obsession with elections.”
The young boy who believed he had been denied victory became determined never to lose relevance again. Interestingly, Shivakumar said some of his earliest lessons in public speaking came not from teachers or politicians, but from an ice-cream vendor outside the school gate. He approached the vendor and requested him to help him prepare speeches that engage and hold the attention of fellow students - an early indication of Shivakumar’s willingness to learn from anyone, regardless of social status.
The second defining incident came at Vidyavardhaka School while he was in Class 10.
By then, Shivakumar had earned a reputation for being energetic, mischievous and difficult to control. When student elections approached, he wanted to contest again. But the headmaster refused him permission. For Shivakumar, however, denial only triggered strategy. Instead of withdrawing, he fielded his friend Krishna Deshpande as the candidate. Shivakumar himself managed the speeches, organised support and effectively ran the campaign from behind the scenes. His candidate won. “That day he did not contest, but he won,” recalled his friend Anand T, describing the episode.
The incident now appears almost symbolic of Shivakumar’s future political style, that of building alliances, influencing outcomes and ensuring victory even when he is not officially in the race.
Reacting to those school-day experiences, Shivakumar had, in a media interview, remarked with characteristic confidence: “I guess there was some kind of fear about me. Even in middle school they blocked me. In high school too they blocked me. After that there was no stopping me. They cannot block me in future too.”
Those who know him say this mindset became central to his politics. Every obstacle became fuel. Every rejection sharpened ambition.
Even during college, Shivakumar displayed an unusual understanding of leadership and loyalty. A talented athlete, he once won a 100-metre race. Yet, according to his associates, he ensured that his rival, who was also the sports secretary of the college, was declared the winner instead.
It was not an act of weakness, but calculation.
Shivakumar had realised early that accommodating competitors often creates stronger loyalty than humiliating them publicly. The instinct to absorb opponents rather than isolate them would later become one of his biggest political strengths.
Today, Shivakumar often describes his rise through what he calls the “4D Formula” — Dream, Desire, Dedication and Discipline.
But behind those four words lies a much deeper story: that of a boy who repeatedly faced rejection, refused to accept defeat and turned every setback into preparation for power.
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