| February 2, 1998 | ||
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 CAMPAIGN TRAIL Building Up Steam As political parties get into full-fledged election mode, a team of India Today correspondents looks at their style and substance in the run-up to the polls.
Inder Kumar Gujral Chandrababu Naidu Bal Thackeray Sonia Gandhi INDER KUMAR GUJRAL "Don't forget my election symbol. It is the wheel,'' stresses Inder Kumar Gujral at the end of his speech. Perhaps he should start with this line for it is difficult to distinguish the prime minister from the Shiromani Akali Dal, his unofficial sponsor. There is nothing official about it as far as the United Front is concerned, but Akali leaders -- including Chief Minister Parkash Singh Badal, and SGPC chief G.S. Tohra -- are unabashed when they say, "He may belong to the Janata Dal but he is the Akali Dal candidate." And it is apparent -- from the speeches, the slogans and the banners. Sharing the stage with Akali stalwarts, Gujral too acknowledges that his victory from Jalandhar would be entirely due to the Akalis who have also talked the BJP into supporting the "son of Punjab". Gujral is banking on "Punjabiyat" and never fails to mention that it was Jalandhar his parents chose to settle in after Partition, or the fact that both his children were born here. "This is my home," he says at all his meetings as he canvasses for votes, agreeing to visit most places he is invited to -- temples, gurdwaras and universities, where sometimes there are no more than 200-300 people listening to him. The difference is apparent. At the St Mary's Cathedral, for instance, or the Devi Talab temple, where Gujral went without his mentors, the prime minister was reduced to being just another local politician, content with listening to bhajans sung to film tunes by a band which had been brought from Kaithal in Haryana. Surrounded by the Akalis, he is content too but for a different reason. The crowds are there and so are the speakers to sell his case. Badal describes him as a son of the soil who will never let Punjab down because he was born of a Punjabi mother. But the Congress is asking embarrassing questions. Questions that are also putting Badal on the defensive, for a large part of his speech deals with the waiver wave that the Akalis are trying to whip up in Gujral's and their own favour. But, says former Congress chief minister and party chief Rajinder Kaur Bhattal, "Their claim that the entire loan of Rs 8,500 crore has been waived is bogus. It is just an election stunt." Badal, conscious of the fact that the entire amount has not yet been waived, dismisses any discussion on it as an act of ingratitude. Gratitude. That has become the key word in the direct contest between Gujral and the Congress' Umrao Singh, with even the BSP tacitly supporting the prime minister's candidature. It's a debt they owe the only Punjabi to become prime minister, say the Akalis. Gujral doesn't disagree. He is banking on them to tilt the scales in his favour. Even though he is riding home on the wheel. CHANDRABABU NAIDU It was a performance that would have made his father-in-law, the late Telugu matinee legend N.T. Rama Rao, swell with pride. The warm winter sun had just set over Hyderabad. Floodlights illuminated the pantheon of United Front (UF) luminaries: West Bengal Chief Minister Jyoti Basu, Tamil Nadu Chief Minister M. Karunanidhi, Karnataka Chief Minister J.H. Patel ... a list of names and titles as boring as their long-winded speeches. The end of a mind-numbing, five-hour public rally. Over two lakh bored people packed into one ground. Just the right moment for the Telugu bidda (son of the soil) to rise and shine. A low throb of drumbeats. A ripple of excitement runs through the crowd. The low murmur becomes a roar. Andhra Pradesh Chief Minister and Telugu Desam Party (TDP) chief N. Chandrababu Naidu has finally taken the mike. In a voice choked with emotion, he tells the huge crowd that "this is a debt I will never be able to repay". Naidu may be no great public speaker but his poor oratory is offset by a great deal of style. His USP is that of a regional chieftain who managed to call the shots in Delhi as convener of the UF. "With just 17 MPs see what I did for the development of the state," he tells the crowd, "while the Congress had a prime minister from Andhra Pradesh (P.V. Narasimha Rao) and still did nothing." Naidu certainly lived up to his image of Mr Fix-it by organising an impressive launch to the UF campaign. In spite of squabbles over seat-sharing, the presence of the top UF leadership was aimed at creating an image of unity and cohesion. An image that was reinforced with the announcement of plans to have a common manifesto, something that the BJP and Congress have failed to do with their allies. The real challenge for the Front leaders is to sell themselves as regional heroes with a national image. There was Basu hinting that he could reconsider accepting the prime ministership should the need arise. There were the SP leaders carrying their Uttar Pradesh battle with the BJP, "the enemy of the country", to Hyderabad. And there was Naidu, again and again reminding the crowd that "more TDP MPs means greater clout in Delhi". The ground realities confronting the UF bosses are such that it's different strokes for different folks. So, while Karunanidhi may reserve his vitriol for arch-rival J. Jayalalitha, Naidu is fighting a buoyant post-Sonia Congress in Andhra Pradesh. The self-proclaimed hi-tech chief minister has no compunction attacking Sonia as a "foreigner". He is naturally the son of the soil, the dynamic young leader, at one with the people. "The poor are my gods," he declared dramatically, "I have shed my blood, sweat and tears and will happily give my life for them." BAL THACKERAY
"The sugar belt isn't anyone's personal jaidaad (inheritance)," thundered Sena chief Bal Thackeray. "The days (of the Congress reign) are gone." It wasn't all rhetoric. The Sena broke the stranglehold of the Congress by winning Satara in the last election by over 11,000 votes. This time around, Thackeray expects at least half the seats. To achieve that, the Sena has adopted the guerrilla tactics of its inspiration, Chattrapati Shivaji. The last time they attacked the flanks, Konkan and Marathwada. This time they chose Kolhapur in the heart of sugarcane country. And what a start it was. The fireworks went off first to celebrate India's victory over Pakistan at Dhaka. Later, they lit up the night sky over Kolhapur as Thackeray arrived at the Gandhi Maidan. The Sena's tiger -- travelling in a bullet-proof car with signal-jamming equipment to neutralise radio-controlled bombs -- had marshalled his forces well. On stage with him were Chattrapati Shahu Maharaj, a well-heeled descendent of Shivaji, and an array of powerful sugar barons who had walked out of the Congress and into the tiger's den. Shivaji would be proud of the game plan. First, cases were systematically slapped on sugar cooperatives accused of corruption. Even as the cooperatives fought legal battles, the Sena put up rebels in cooperative polls to unseat the chiefs of three major cooperatives. Then the state Government allowed farmers to sell their cane outside the area of their cooperatives. The carrot-and-stick approach worked. Many a scared baron fled to the saffron fold. At the ground, an electrified crowd spilled over the edges, clambering up trees and buildings. Histrionics took over -- and the faithful loved it. "I will shove the panja (hand) of the Congress into its mouth," declared Nivedita Mane, now a Sena candidate who lost narrowly as an independent in the last elections. Even the normally calm Chief Minister Manohar Joshi seemed affected by the charged atmosphere. "We paid obeisance to the devi (goddess) and already a miracle has happened. India has won the match against Pakistan ... Congress will be ground into the red dust and the saffron flag will flutter in Delhi." But Thackeray outdid them all. His attack against Sonia was so vitriolic that many newly-inducted Congressmen-turned-Sainiks squirmed; some left. Things will only get more explosive as the days roll on. There's a lot of spice coming along on the saffron trail. SONIA GANDHI
In modern-day Jharkhand, the Santhal chieftain Munda is deified as the man who first rose against outsiders, the British in this case. More than a century later, there were only welcoming arms in Jharkhand's largest city when Sonia Gandhi and daughter Priyanka came visiting -- for all of 35 minutes. Hope -- and one Lok Sabha seat -- is all the Congress clings to in India's tribal heartland. Listen to an excited Sanjay Jha and you might find out why. "Of course, I'm going to see Priyanka," grins Jha, a B.Sc. student. "Sonia too, of course." And who will he vote for? "Oh, the BJP, of course," he replies without hesitation. Sonia's visit to Ranchi was meant to attack such contradictions. She arrived in her hired Gulf Stream jet to share the stage with Congress President Sitaram Kesri for the first time. The national press landed up in dreary Ranchi to record the rendezvous; so too did a handful of Italian journalists. Unfortunately, Kesri's plane had "technical problems". Sonia never digressed from her eight-minute speech to acknowledge the old man who never came; the crowd wasn't given a reason for his absence. He was simply ignored. The choice of Jharkhand to show India the Congress' united face isn't surprising. The BJP wiped the Congress off the face of the Chhotanagpur plateau the last time around, grabbing 12 of the 14 Lok Sabha seats. Sonia cleverly mixed the now familiar emotive reference to her husband with local issues: terrorism in Assam, poverty in Bihar. But Priyanka was clearly the star attraction. "She waved and smiled at me," said a delighted Youth Congress worker who firmly believed Priyanka waved to him. "I will do anything for her." The tenor of Sonia's speeches is clearly changing, from the tentative, emotional start at Sriperumbudur to confident references to "our country" and "our culture". Her Hindi diction is adequate, even if discerning critics latch on to an occasional Italian twang. "Hindi mein to bolti hain lekin kuchh sahi nahin hai (She does speak in Hindi, but something isn't right)," says taxi driver Sarfraz Zakir. "Speech bade bade aksharon mein likhna hoga (The speech should be written in large characters)". He's pretty close. Actually, insiders say it's written phonetically in the Roman script. Still, that isn't an issue. Her simmering dislike of Kesri is. The dampened feel to her meetings, both in Guwahati and Ranchi, wasn't entirely because of the clouds. "Look, the choice is between political parties that are bad and worse," says Gyan Ranjan, Rajya Sabha member and Ranchi strongman. "We know who is the worst (the BJP); we are just bad." It's time the Congress' big two get that joint-appearance done with quickly. It might also be time for Sonia to be more social. She is the seed the Congress is using to sow the electoral wind. Unless she matures quickly, there will be no whirlwind to reap. |
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© Living Media India Ltd |
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Temple bells clanged. The din of conch shells mingled
with war cries of Jai Bhavani. Except for an explosion of flash bulbs -- even a temple
priest sported a camera -- this could be a scene from a medieval Maratha battle. But this
was modern-day Kolhapur, witnessing the launch of the Shiv Sena's assault on the Congress'
last citadel in Maharashtra: the state's sugar heartland which returned nine of the 12
Congressmen who contested. 
Birsa Munda's jaw might have hit the floor. More than
15,000 of his people waved -- as delighted children might at their mother -- and
desperately tried to catch the eye of a visiting Italian and her daughter. Every time a
playful Priyanka grinned and lifted a hand, they went into raptures of delight, ignoring
the welcoming speeches of fawning local leaders. 
