“There was a rally of the Prime Minister here on the 10th of last month and now there’s this rally," said Riyazuddin, an Aam Aadmi Party supporter, who stood outside the Ramlila Maidan on Saturday morning, suitably accessorised for the occasion. "For that rally, people were brought by force. For this, they’ve come uninvited.”
It was a sea of white caps in Ramlila Maidan, Delhi's largest ground, the size of three football fields. Tens of thousands of people had gathered to see the Aam Aadmi Party leader, Arvind Kejriwal, take oath as the chief minister of Delhi for the second time. In 2013, the party had not won a clear majority. But now it had wrested 67 of the 70 seats in the assembly in a victory that's nearly unprecedented in Indian history.
Even before the results were announced, the party’s opponents had sensed the overwhelming swing in its favour. In an interview to the Indian Express, Bharatiya Janata Party’s president Amit Shah bemoaned the fact that poor people in Delhi were responding to “someone who promises ‘I will give you everything for free’”.
On Saturday, outside the media and VIP enclosures, those gathered in Ramlila Maidan were indeed overwhelmingly poor. And there were freebies at the venue. Free cola, for one.
Body graffiti, for another. “Do you want me to paint your face with the tricolour?” asked a young boy, who identified himself as a party volunteer. “I’ll do it for free.”
But there are serious reasons to believe that the springboard for AAP’s success wasn't simply the promise of subsidised power and water. Encounters at the venue show why AAP's appeal is deeper and more diverse.
“We alighted at Nizammuddin station and asked for the Aam Aadmi Party office,” said Ram Swaroop Lakhera, who at the age of 87 can't walk without a stick. They were directed to the party office in the nearby neighbourhood of Jangpura. They stayed at the office for six days and went around campaigning on the streets in a dialect that might not even be comprehensible to the people of Delhi: “Maar mohariya taan ke, Jhadu ke nishaan pe.” (Stamp the ballot paper with force on the symbol of the broom).
A former police constable, Ram Swaroop, said he was drawn to AAP after he heard Kejriwal speak in Indore in 2012 against bhoomi ghotala aur bhrastachaar (land grab and corruption). For Geeta Devi Choudhary, who is not related to Swaroop, but lives in the same village, these are not abstract issues. The family’s land has been forcibly taken away. As Dalits, they had no means to fight the powerful sarpanch, she said. Her husband had sent her to Delhi to support AAP because he believed that it was the only party that was truly sympathetic to their cause, and to other poor people like them.
Vineeta Lugun lives in the south Delhi neighbourhood of Chirag Delhi. A native of Simdega district in Jharkhand, she works in a non-profit called Adivasi Aadhikar Abhiyan. She gravitated towards the Aam Aadmi Party, she said, when she saw it give importance to all citizens and not just those from the dominant communities. "They listen to all people. Har log ka baat sunta hai." Often rendered voiceless in large metropolises, migrants take seriously any party that makes an effort to communicate with them. In the assembly election, Lugun took time out from work to campaign for AAP alongside Dayamani Barla, a prominent Jharkhandi activist and AAP leader, who had come from Ranchi to give the party a helping hand.
In the sea of caps, those printed in Urdu letters stood out. Mujibur Rahman had come from Mumbai and Ishtaq Ahmad from Kolkata. They did not know each other. They met at the venue and decided to spend the day together. Neither was an AAP worker. Neither had any work in the city. Both claimed they had come to Delhi simply to see what the party was all about. "Everywhere, there's the same loot and plunder," said Rahman, who runs a small repair shop in Saki Naka in Mumbai. "Now, an honest man has won. This is inspirational for all young people of this country." Ahmad, who is a B.Sc student in Kolkata, maintained that AAP stood little chance of making inroads in West Bengal's acrimonious politics in the near future. "But who knows what can happen 5-10 years from now."
Sujata has been a supporter of AAP since the party was formed. "The party stands for honest and clean politics," she said, "which is what this country needs." Her husband, Pradeep, is a general manager in the mobile company Ericsson. "Generally, people in his circle tilt towards the BJP. But in the last one-two months, they began to lose faith due to Hindutva and stuff. The talk about producing 10 children, for instance. They know this is not good for the economy."
Pradeep added that his friends and colleagues were turned off by the suit worn by Prime Minister at the time of the Obama visit. Not only did Modi come across as narcissistic, the way he was "clinging to Obama and showing 'hey, we are buddies'" cast him in poor light. What finally swayed his friends towards AAP was the way the party ran a consistently positive campaign in the face of relentless negative ads of the BJP.
Roshan Lal Goyal had brought his granddaughter Alakh to see Kejriwal, the man who has "divine powers". Until his sons took over the family business, Goyal used to sell building materials in Karawal Nagar in north east Delhi. He is a pucca bania, he said, and an Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh follower to boot. He grew up in the shakha culture and has even visited the RSS headquarters in Nagpur. So what made him give up his lifelong ideology to support Kejriwal? Was it simply because they share the same caste?
"Not at all. I am proud that he is from our biradaari. I even mentioned that in a meeting of 5,000 people in the Agarwal Sabha in Karawal Nagar. But that's not why I support him," Goyal said, before launching into a long exposition on the true meaning of religion and spirituality, which in short came to, "do good, be good".
BJP leaders no longer represent the good, he contended. "When your actions are bad, the ideology amounts to nothing." In his neighbourhood, a BJP leader had captured the ration shop and was pilfering grain meant for poor. "I have lived through the famine of the sixties and seventies," said Goyal. "We used to eat bhoosa (chaff). How can I forget what hunger means?" By placing the issue of honesty at the centre of politics, Kejriwal had fired up Goyal. The old man had now started seeing him as a saint. As soon he entered Ramlila Maidan, Goyal raised his hands and exclaimed, "Jai ho Kejriwal, jai ho!"
What to make of the faith reposed by such a diverse set of people in one man? Despite the differences in the content of their politics, Narendra Modi and Arvind Kejriwal have similarities in form: the cult of personality coupled with powerful oratory that connects to ordinary people, as evident in Ramlila Maidan on Saturday. But the way Modi stands humbled in Delhi, less than 10 months after he grabbed an astonishing victory in the national election, Kejriwal would do good to keep in mind the astuteness of the Indian voter.
Those who could not enter Ramlila Maidan stood watching Kejriwal's speech on screens outside. Describing the hard work that had gone into winning the election, and promising to continue the work in the government, Kejriwal said, "I have had fever..." Before he could complete, a group of young men, evidently supporters, since they wore the trademark white cap of AAP, were quick to remark, "Chinta mat kar, Crocin de denge" (Don't worry, we will give you medicine). The group erupted in laughter, and for better or worse, showed that the young voter is sharp and unforgiving.
Riyazuddin, AAP supporter
It was a sea of white caps in Ramlila Maidan, Delhi's largest ground, the size of three football fields. Tens of thousands of people had gathered to see the Aam Aadmi Party leader, Arvind Kejriwal, take oath as the chief minister of Delhi for the second time. In 2013, the party had not won a clear majority. But now it had wrested 67 of the 70 seats in the assembly in a victory that's nearly unprecedented in Indian history.
Even before the results were announced, the party’s opponents had sensed the overwhelming swing in its favour. In an interview to the Indian Express, Bharatiya Janata Party’s president Amit Shah bemoaned the fact that poor people in Delhi were responding to “someone who promises ‘I will give you everything for free’”.
On Saturday, outside the media and VIP enclosures, those gathered in Ramlila Maidan were indeed overwhelmingly poor. And there were freebies at the venue. Free cola, for one.
Body graffiti, for another. “Do you want me to paint your face with the tricolour?” asked a young boy, who identified himself as a party volunteer. “I’ll do it for free.”
But there are serious reasons to believe that the springboard for AAP’s success wasn't simply the promise of subsidised power and water. Encounters at the venue show why AAP's appeal is deeper and more diverse.
Ram Swaroop and Geeta Devi
The bag next to the old man was the first sign that they were visitors to the city. They had come from a village in Satna district of Madhya Pradesh, travelling all night by train, heading directly to the maidan from the railway station in the morning. If this wasn’t extraordinary enough, they said that this was their second trip to Delhi. The first time they had travelled to the city was on February 1, a week before Delhi polls.
“We alighted at Nizammuddin station and asked for the Aam Aadmi Party office,” said Ram Swaroop Lakhera, who at the age of 87 can't walk without a stick. They were directed to the party office in the nearby neighbourhood of Jangpura. They stayed at the office for six days and went around campaigning on the streets in a dialect that might not even be comprehensible to the people of Delhi: “Maar mohariya taan ke, Jhadu ke nishaan pe.” (Stamp the ballot paper with force on the symbol of the broom).
A former police constable, Ram Swaroop, said he was drawn to AAP after he heard Kejriwal speak in Indore in 2012 against bhoomi ghotala aur bhrastachaar (land grab and corruption). For Geeta Devi Choudhary, who is not related to Swaroop, but lives in the same village, these are not abstract issues. The family’s land has been forcibly taken away. As Dalits, they had no means to fight the powerful sarpanch, she said. Her husband had sent her to Delhi to support AAP because he believed that it was the only party that was truly sympathetic to their cause, and to other poor people like them.
Vineeta and Sarojini
Vineeta Lugun lives in the south Delhi neighbourhood of Chirag Delhi. A native of Simdega district in Jharkhand, she works in a non-profit called Adivasi Aadhikar Abhiyan. She gravitated towards the Aam Aadmi Party, she said, when she saw it give importance to all citizens and not just those from the dominant communities. "They listen to all people. Har log ka baat sunta hai." Often rendered voiceless in large metropolises, migrants take seriously any party that makes an effort to communicate with them. In the assembly election, Lugun took time out from work to campaign for AAP alongside Dayamani Barla, a prominent Jharkhandi activist and AAP leader, who had come from Ranchi to give the party a helping hand.
Mujibur and Ishtaq
In the sea of caps, those printed in Urdu letters stood out. Mujibur Rahman had come from Mumbai and Ishtaq Ahmad from Kolkata. They did not know each other. They met at the venue and decided to spend the day together. Neither was an AAP worker. Neither had any work in the city. Both claimed they had come to Delhi simply to see what the party was all about. "Everywhere, there's the same loot and plunder," said Rahman, who runs a small repair shop in Saki Naka in Mumbai. "Now, an honest man has won. This is inspirational for all young people of this country." Ahmad, who is a B.Sc student in Kolkata, maintained that AAP stood little chance of making inroads in West Bengal's acrimonious politics in the near future. "But who knows what can happen 5-10 years from now."
Sujata and Pradeep
Sujata has been a supporter of AAP since the party was formed. "The party stands for honest and clean politics," she said, "which is what this country needs." Her husband, Pradeep, is a general manager in the mobile company Ericsson. "Generally, people in his circle tilt towards the BJP. But in the last one-two months, they began to lose faith due to Hindutva and stuff. The talk about producing 10 children, for instance. They know this is not good for the economy."
Pradeep added that his friends and colleagues were turned off by the suit worn by Prime Minister at the time of the Obama visit. Not only did Modi come across as narcissistic, the way he was "clinging to Obama and showing 'hey, we are buddies'" cast him in poor light. What finally swayed his friends towards AAP was the way the party ran a consistently positive campaign in the face of relentless negative ads of the BJP.
Roshan Lal Goyal and Alakh
Roshan Lal Goyal had brought his granddaughter Alakh to see Kejriwal, the man who has "divine powers". Until his sons took over the family business, Goyal used to sell building materials in Karawal Nagar in north east Delhi. He is a pucca bania, he said, and an Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh follower to boot. He grew up in the shakha culture and has even visited the RSS headquarters in Nagpur. So what made him give up his lifelong ideology to support Kejriwal? Was it simply because they share the same caste?
"Not at all. I am proud that he is from our biradaari. I even mentioned that in a meeting of 5,000 people in the Agarwal Sabha in Karawal Nagar. But that's not why I support him," Goyal said, before launching into a long exposition on the true meaning of religion and spirituality, which in short came to, "do good, be good".
BJP leaders no longer represent the good, he contended. "When your actions are bad, the ideology amounts to nothing." In his neighbourhood, a BJP leader had captured the ration shop and was pilfering grain meant for poor. "I have lived through the famine of the sixties and seventies," said Goyal. "We used to eat bhoosa (chaff). How can I forget what hunger means?" By placing the issue of honesty at the centre of politics, Kejriwal had fired up Goyal. The old man had now started seeing him as a saint. As soon he entered Ramlila Maidan, Goyal raised his hands and exclaimed, "Jai ho Kejriwal, jai ho!"
What to make of the faith reposed by such a diverse set of people in one man? Despite the differences in the content of their politics, Narendra Modi and Arvind Kejriwal have similarities in form: the cult of personality coupled with powerful oratory that connects to ordinary people, as evident in Ramlila Maidan on Saturday. But the way Modi stands humbled in Delhi, less than 10 months after he grabbed an astonishing victory in the national election, Kejriwal would do good to keep in mind the astuteness of the Indian voter.
Those who could not enter Ramlila Maidan stood watching Kejriwal's speech on screens outside. Describing the hard work that had gone into winning the election, and promising to continue the work in the government, Kejriwal said, "I have had fever..." Before he could complete, a group of young men, evidently supporters, since they wore the trademark white cap of AAP, were quick to remark, "Chinta mat kar, Crocin de denge" (Don't worry, we will give you medicine). The group erupted in laughter, and for better or worse, showed that the young voter is sharp and unforgiving.
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