AAP has scared the daylights out of…

Harish Khare
IT got over yesterday. The Punjab voters have done their bit. And, now we have a suspenseful interregnum till March 11. The state would be at peace as the leaders would disperse for a well-deserved “R&R.” The candidates will be making pilgrimages to their favourite gods and astrologers while the bookies will have their hands full.
The most intriguing part of the 2017 campaign has to be the substantive presence of a new political outfit — the Aam Aadmi Party — which is presumed to have carved out a niche for itself. The AAP has perfected the blue-book for instigating the voters’ dormant rebellious instincts. It has also acquired a flair for mesmerising the narrative-makers with the energy and enthusiasm of its cadres. All those who came from outside to report on the Punjab elections have gone back mightily impressed.
As The Tribune’s series on the previous Punjab elections shows, it has not been easy for a third force to make its presence felt. The Congress and the Akalis have divided the honours, most of the time. In the last Assembly elections, in 2012, Manpreet Badal’s Punjab People’s Party promised to break this binary mould, but its challenge ended in a whimper. The AAP is threatening to buck the trend.
Whatever be the shape of its final electoral tally, the AAP’s Punjab performance can only be understood in the context of the disenchantment with the established political parties. The Congress, of course, is the party of the status quo and is institutionally handicapped in coming to terms with a very fast-changing India. This is no surprise. As far as the BJP is concerned, the Punjab voter was never enamoured of Narendra Modi. But the surprise — and, a welcome one — is the Punjab voters’ readiness to move out of the jathedars’ influence. The rural Punjab is ready for a change.
THE two traditional parties, the Akali Dal and the Congress, were carpingly disapproving of a large number of the non-resident Indians coming to Punjab and working the voters in favour of the Aam Aadmi Party. The AAP has managed to excite the imagination of very many NRIs, not just in Punjab, but also all over India. It is entirely possible that many of the “hardliners” have sneaked in, with a somewhat dubious intent of instigating a bit of anarchy in Punjab. Only the final results would tell whether the NRIs have made any difference to the AAP’s electoral fortunes.
I found the traditional parties’ criticism rather lacking in grace. After all, beginning with the Vajpayee government, the NRIs have been systematically wooed officially and extensively. This is a global trend. Every government wants to entice the diaspora. It is natural that, in turn, the NRIs should feel entitled to have their say in the affairs back home. And, a large number of the NRIs do “adopt” a village here or there or in some other way contribute to the betterment of life in Punjab. If their “peacetime” involvement is not objectionable, then there should be no objection to their active involvement during election time.
That apart, almost all Punjab leaders and politicians go out of their way to seek out influential NRIs on their visits to Canada and the USA. Not just leaders from Punjab, in fact. Since becoming Prime Minister, Narendra Modi has manufactured quite a spectacle out of his meetings with the NRIs in New York, London, etc. If the NRIs’ applause and approval are cited as a leader’s global standing, then why should anyone crib about the NRIs’ interest in the Assembly elections?
This is nothing but hypocrisy.
THOU shall not speak ill of the dead. This adage can be easily, without any qualms, dispensed with, in the case of Joginder Singh, the man who found himself appointed as the Director of the Central Bureau of Intelligence during the HD Deve Gowda government days.
A clownish figure, he was totally unequipped for leading the premier investigative agency, being totally without intellectual heft or urbaneness. Those were the days when “corruption” was high on the national agenda. The Vohra Committee had talked of the “nexus” between the criminals and the corrupt. All eyes were on the CBI, but Joginder Singh reduced the fight against corruption into a public relations stunt. Many would recall that famous photograph of him arriving from Geneva with a box of “Bofors Papers.” The man had posed with an empty box.
Beginning with his tenure, the CBI lost its institutional élan. The agency and its senior personnel became ensnared in partisanship of political connections. No amount of Supreme Court oversight can debug the agency of the Joginder Singh virus.
A lesson for all those who care about our institutions.
MANY years ago, I stumbled upon a radio programme on Delhi, which allowed listeners to phone in with their queries about the mysteries and mystiques about the historic Mughal city. I found the programme inviting because there used to be one expert — someone referred to as “Swapna jee” — who would very competently provide fascinating details and explanations. I found the half-hour show absorbing because, as an old and proud ‘Dilliwalla’, I thought I knew almost everything there was to know about the Walled City. But here was someone who knew much more and unloaded, week after week, absolutely delicious nuggets of history. And then, years later, I was to discover that this wonderful repository of historical tidbits was spoused to one of my professional acquaintances, Gourab Banerji (a former additional solicitor-general).
Now this “Swapna” — Ms Swapana Liddle — has produced a small book, Chandni Chowk — The Mughal City of Old Delhi. A very readable book, full of scrumptious details. Sample this: Seth Dipchand Sah, the Jain merchant and jeweller, who had built the famous Lal Mandir from across the Red Fort, had 16 sons! (Alas, there is no mention of daughters or wives). Ms Liddle informatively tells us how the gates and the masjids dotting the Walled City got their names.
What I found insightful about the book was that it contextualises Delhi as the capital centre of an empire. Ms Liddle tells us that the very site on the banks of the Yamuna that Emperor Shahjahan chose to locate his capital was, in fact, associated with Hindu myth and tradition. This spot, called ‘Nigambodhak’ was deemed to have been blessed by Bhagwan Vishnu: “A knowledge of the Vedas could be gained simply by taking a dip in the waters.” And, she adds: “By establishing a capital city here, the Mughals could reinforce their legitimacy to rule in the eyes of the people.”
“Swapana jee” manages to bring out the fundamental principles of statecraft. The king has to work for the welfare of all his subjects. The Mughal rulers “had seen themselves as rulers of all the people of India, irrespective of class and religious beliefs.” Not only that, as Ms Liddle tells us, the Mughal emperors went out of their way to acknowledge Hindu festive occasions. “On Holi and Diwali, the emperor bathes in the water of seven wells” and the “palace was specially lit for Diwali.” Special durbars used to be held during the Hindu festivals. A glimpse of the composite culture.
And, then there is always the need to impress and intimidate the subjects. The basic feature of the city was designed to showcase the imperial majesty. “The broad main streets were designed to enable impressive processions. As the emperor went to pray at the Jama Masjid, or as he left the city to the north or to the south, his magnificent procession of elephants, horses, palanquins and carriages made an impressive spectacle.” (Today we have the SPG and the whole caboodle called “bandobast”, aimed at intimidating the citizen, every time the Prime Minister steps out).
The British also took a leaf out of the Mughal book. For example, the durbar of 1877 was organised, in the words of Viceroy Lytton, to “place the Queen’s authority upon the ancient throne of the Moguls, with which the imagination and tradition of (our) Indian subjects associate the splendour of supreme power.”
Ms Liddle’s book suddenly makes us realise that till this day, we continue to replicate the imperial rites of splendour. Our Republic Day parade, and the Beating Retreat ceremonies can be traced to the “imperial need” to establish demonstratively hierarchy and authority.
Ms Liddle also tells that the Walled City was known for its kahwe khane (coffee shops). Well, well, I will raise my cup of coffee to that. Join me.