2014: The Election That Changed India (29 page)

As 2013 was winding down,
Narendra Modi and Amit Shah were in a celebratory mood. Snoopgate hadn’t taken off. The
CNN-IBN election tracker was showing the BJP making steady progress and well ahead of the Congress
nationwide. Modi’s rallies were attracting a huge response, and the key states of UP and Bihar
both seemed to be in control. Mission 272-plus was no longer unattainable.

But politics in India always has a surprise around
the corner. Just as Shah and Modi were preparing to rejoice at a turnaround 2013, a new X factor
emerged. Another pretender ready to challenge the front runners burst onto the scene. Arvind
Kejriwal and his Aam Aadmi Party had just taken Delhi by storm. The battle for 2014 wasn’t
over just yet.

It was a delightful Delhi winter afternoon in early January 2014, a light sun offering just the right dose of warmth. Senior BJP leader Arun Jaitley was holding his annual lunch at his 9, Ashoka Road residence, just next to the party office. The party’s top leadership had gathered at the high table—food seemed to unite Advani, Jaitley, Sushma and Rajnath as they prepared for the start of the big election year. The spread was classic north Indian and there were even cooks flown in from Amritsar by a private caterer for the occasion. From
kulcha chole
to
bheja
masala to butter chicken, this was a lunch designed to break the cholesterol barrier.

The mood was upbeat with the party having done well in the December assembly elections in four states. Some BJP leaders were already being asked what portfolios they wanted in the next government at the Centre. I said to the BJP chief spokesperson Ravi Shankar Prasad that he could well be the next information and broadcasting minister once again. ‘Why, you don’t want me to get a promotion!’ he laughed. I suggested he have another
kesar kulfi
for good luck.

The star attraction, though, was seated at one of the side tables. Amit Shah was back from Lucknow and was surrounded by
journalists hanging on to his every word. Only, the talk wasn’t so much about his UP adventure as it was about the newest sensation on the political stage. Arvind Kejriwal’s AAP party had made a Sourav Ganguly-like debut by forming a government in Delhi just a few weeks earlier.

The AAP leader was splashed all over the media. He was CNNIBN’s Politician of the Year; the
Times of India
and
India Today
had chosen him as their Newsmaker of the Year. ‘You media people have got carried away by Kejriwal, you think he is the only politician who has a simple lifestyle. Many of us also live simply, only we don’t make a song and dance of it,’ said Shah, polishing off the chole on his plate.

Since CNN-IBN had been one of the channels to honour Kejriwal, Shah turned to me with a smile. ‘I believe you are getting an AAP ticket from South Mumbai to contest the general elections? If you do, I promise we will not get Narendrabhai to campaign against you!’ I shot back, ‘Amitbhai, I don’t want to contest on an AAP ticket and lose.
Wave toh BJP ki hai
. If you give me a BJP ticket, I will be happy to contest!’ The response was just as swift.
‘Agar aapko BJP ki ticket milti hai, to main uska virodh karoonga!’
(If you get a BJP ticket, I will oppose it.) It was all light-humoured. We all had a good laugh.

As we prepared to leave, Shah called me to one side. ‘Tell me, Rajdeepji, what is your honest feedback from the ground on AAP?’ My view was that the AAP was a Delhi phenomenon whose success was unlikely to extend beyond the national capital. ‘They don’t have the organization to replicate their Delhi model elsewhere,’ I said to Amit Shah. I even tried to console him with the figures of our election tracker which showed that almost 50 per cent of those who had voted for AAP in the Delhi election had said they would back Modi as prime minister in a general election.

Shah, however, appeared rather concerned.
‘Nahi, hum unko lightly nahi le sakte. Desh ke sabhi urban areas mein unki popularity kaafibadh rahi hai. UP mein bhi log unke baare mein baat kar rahe hain’
(We cannot take them lightly, their popularity is rising across urban India. Even in UP, people are talking about them).

The BJP’s treasurer Piyush Goyal had commissioned the leading global market research and polling agency, Penn Schoen Berland, to do a nationwide survey ahead of the December 2013 assembly elections. The survey showed that the BJP was well ahead of the Congress and was crossing 200 seats on its own. It confirmed that corruption and inflation were the dominant issues and that Modi’s popularity was actually twenty points more than that of the BJP. But it also showed that there had been a surge of support for the AAP after its Delhi election success. Much of the gain was at the expense of the Congress, but the AAP was turning out to be an emerging third force.

From Shah’s demeanour, it was obvious that Kejriwal’s rise was troubling the BJP’s strategists. Kejriwal had almost wiped Modi off the front pages, but even more importantly, had become a talking point amongst the youth and the urban middle class, the core target groups of the BJP’s ‘Modi for PM’ campaign. A dark, short, slightly built moustachioed Hissar-born man who till a year ago had been seen as little more than a political gadfly was now threatening to take on the BJP’s Goliath. It was lightweight versus super heavyweight, but Kejriwal had made a career out of punching above his weight.

I first met Kejriwal around 2003. He was then an IRS officer who had taken a sabbatical to start an NGO, Parivartan, which was involved in the RTI campaign. We were addressing a seminar together in Lucknow and I found him totally committed to the cause, with a vast knowledge on the subject. ‘The media must partner us in spreading the RTI message,’ he told me then. I guess he was always keenly aware of media power, but little did I foresee that the bright, energetic IITian in a white shirt, black trousers and chappals would one day become a national figure. Not even when he won a Magsaysay in 2006 for his RTI work.

We kept in touch—NGOs are a valuable source of stories. In February 2011, Kejriwal came to us with another story idea, this
time along with IPS officer Dr Kiran Bedi. The duo were offering to be part of our citizen journalism show on CNN-IBN where we focused on corruption that affected people’s daily lives. ‘We are starting a signature campaign to push for a Jan Lok Pal and need your support,’ said Kejriwal. We readily agreed to shoot a story with Kejriwal and Dr Bedi pitching for an anti-corruption ombudsman. But I had a note of caution. ‘Please remember, television is a visual medium. Signature campaigns may not be effective on TV unless backed up by a story that catches the eye.’

Dr Bedi said they had just come back from Mumbai and noted social activist Anna Hazare had agreed to fast outside the Maharashtra assembly for the cause of a Lok Pal. ‘You can interview Anna too,’ she suggested helpfully.

That’s when I offered a final piece of gratuitous advice, as editors are often prone to do. Tahrir Square had just happened in Egypt and the sight of thousands of citizens marching on Cairo’s streets had captured global eyeballs. ‘Let me be honest, Arvind and Kiranji. If you really want people to sit up and notice your Lok Pal campaign, you need to create your own Tahrir Square-like moment here in India. Only then will the system awaken! And if you want the national TV channels to focus on your cause, then bring Anna to Delhi. In Mumbai, it will remain a local story.’

Little did I know then that a casual conversation over a television programme would transform into a volcanic nationwide eruption over corruption just a few months later. Forget signature campaigns, this was about to become the biggest story of 2011.

If Anna Hazare became the face of the Lok Pal movement, Kejriwal became its heartbeat. He planned, organized and micromanaged the entire campaign, tirelessly working eighteen hours a day to ensure its success. ‘I am Anna’s Hanuman,’ is how he described himself. Once, sitting with Anna at Maharashtra Sadan, I asked him about his equation with Kejriwal.
‘Arre, main toh ek chote gaon ka fakir hoon, Arvind jaanta hai ki bade shahar mein kya karna chahiye’
(I am a fakir from a small village, Arvind knows what you need to do in the big city).

The IITian and the Gandhian; the tech-savvy mobilizer and the crowd-pulling ascetic; the urban activist and a rural folk hero—Kejriwal and Anna forged a unique partnership that, by August 2011, had the mighty Indian state bending before it. Ironically, a little over a year later, the duo had parted ways. Those who know Anna and Kejriwal were not surprised. Anna was a nomad with his roots in rural Maharashtra; he often moved from one agitation to another. He relished the national limelight for a while but eventually was more comfortable in his home environment in Ralegan Siddhi. He may have been perceived as anti-politician, but truthfully, he had friends in all political parties.

Kejriwal, by contrast, was the archetypal angry young rebel, looking for a cause. There was a single-minded, almost manic, determination that seemed to guide his moves. ‘
Unme ek desh ke liye kuch karne ka paagalpan hai
[He is obsessed with doing something for the country], which is his strength and his weakness,’ is how an admirer described Kejriwal to me. An old-time NGO associate, though, insisted that a highly ambitious Kejriwal had a habit of using people and then discarding them. ‘Anna is only a stepping stone in Arvind’s own journey,’ is how he described the relationship. My own sense was that Kejriwal and Anna were both headstrong individuals—a clash was inevitable once the original fervour of the Lok Pal movement died down.

Salman Khurshid, the former Union minister who negotiated with Team Anna during the Lok Pal movement, says the differences in the team were apparent right from the beginning. ‘You spoke to Kiran Bedi and she would say one thing; you spoke to Arvind, he would say something else. And rarely did they have a nice word to say about each other,’ he claims.

In July 2012, the government had begun backchannel talks with Anna through friendly politicians and businessmen in Pune. Khurshid met Anna and convinced him that the government would support the Lok Pal in Parliament. ‘He even agreed to campaign for the Congress as part of the deal,’ says Khurshid. A letter was drafted by the prime minister’s office to thank Anna and put a stamp on
the agreement. But then in a last-minute twist, the letter meant for Anna was dispatched to Kejriwal’s residence by mistake. Or so the government claimed. Kejriwal was furious. He had been taking on the Congress and here was Anna striking a deal with them. Anna was embarrassed as well. He apparently called up Kejriwal that evening, saying, ‘We must teach the Congress a lesson, they are practising the politics of divide and rule!’

Anna decided to go on another fast, this time calling for an FIR to be registered against fifteen UPA ministers. On day nine of the fast, he made a public appeal to Kejriwal to form a political party. Kejriwal, who had realized that the politics of fasts and dharnas was subject to diminishing returns, was excited at the prospect. Two days later, Anna backed out of the proposal, leading to complete confusion in the ranks. ‘We had made all the plans and then Anna ditched us,’ is how one Kejriwal aide described it.

Why did Anna not eventually support Kejriwal’s political party? My sense is that Kejriwal was itching to change the scope of his movement and coerced Anna initially into endorsing the idea of a political party. Anna relished the attention being showered on him but he was clever enough to know that he derived his power from staying away from formal politics. Kejriwal, though, was always a man in a tearing hurry.

A few weeks later, Kejriwal decided to gherao the homes of Sonia Gandhi and Nitin Gadkari, alleging a Congress–BJP collusion in the coal scam. ‘But when we went to seek Dr Bedi’s support, she refused to endorse the move to protest at the BJP president’s house. She wanted us to only target the Congress,’ Kejriwal later told me. Bedi countered, ‘The movement was losing focus. We could not equate the Congress and the BJP all the time.’ A break was now inevitable in the original Team Anna.

On 24 November 2012, the Aam Aadmi Party was formed by Team Kejriwal. Anna decided to keep out, as did Dr Bedi. A fledgling party created without their mascot Anna and with limited resources, Kejriwal’s political experiment was given hardly any chance of succeeding by people. I was among the sceptics. When my friend
and political scientist Yogendra Yadav, who used to do our election programming at CNN-IBN, told me of his decision to join the new party, I gently suggested he might be making a big mistake. ‘Politics is a different cup of tea, Yogendra, this won’t work. Why do you want to give up the studio for the street?’ I asked. The next twelve months would prove all of us sceptics very wrong.

The spectacular rise of the AAP from neophyte party to the ruling power in Delhi rewrote all the rules of electoral politics. Instant success in politics is rare. N.T. Rama Rao’s Telugu Desam won its debut election in 1983 riding on the cinematic charisma of their leader and a strong regional appeal; the Assam Gana Parishad also won its first election in 1985, but it was an extension of a six-year-long popular students’ agitation.