I left the team in Bhurtiya at 8. 40 p. m. I could not possibly spend the night there as suggested by some, since I was not carrying a change of clothes and toiletries. I had promised to avoid night driving, and I was breaking my promise, but this time I had no choice. Soon after crossing Baytu, I got a text message from Hamir about the match at Upton Park. The text simply said 0–1 Liverpool. I could not have asked for better news at that time, especially since it had been a tricky game. When the next text from Hamir said 0–2 Liverpool, I felt even better. By the time I reached Jodhpur, it was midnight and Mama’s birthday was over. But she was still awake and sat with Chitra and me as I ate a late meal. It was a good score to go to bed with.
10 May 2009
I woke up late today, at 7 a. m. But I was relaxed about it, as there was not much more to do. And it was good to hear Data say that he was impressed by my diligence over a re-poll in one booth. He also added that if others in my team were working equally hard, then it meant that they, too, sensed the possibility of victory and did not want to give upon anything. Getting dressed and ready was a leisurely process, as it was departure day for the family. Now that the voting was finally over, different members were to head in various directions.
My parents and the children were to leave for Delhi, and then on to Darjeeling. Chitra and I were to leave for Mount Abu. We had not been alone on a vacation since the autumn of 2000, and this was meant to be our mini honeymoon. Only after all the others had departed could we leave, by which time it was well into the afternoon. As we drove off, there were strong blustery winds with sand blasting across the road. It was just the two of us in the car, and I drove at an easy pace. It was some time since I had last driven a car over a long distance, and the body felt all the pressures of pressing the clutch, braking and accelerating. Since we were by ourselves, I carried my Walther pistol with me, keeping it close. Once again, this was something that I had not done in a long while. It took us more than five hours to get to Mount Abu, cruising along, and I listened to my iPod as Chitra napped. We had been warned about Mount Abu getting overrun by Gujarati tourists and, sure enough, there they were, in droves. Many, however, were headed out of Mount Abu as the weekend was coming to a close. As we started climbing up from the plains there was a strong tug at my memory, and I pressed harder on the accelerator. The climb was taken at heavy torque, and it reminded me of a comment by an Audi agency chap who had once accompanied me during a test drive for the Economic Times. He had remarked that my style was obviously suited for off-road driving and definitely heavy on the torque.
As we drove into the town nothing looked familiar, but we found Connaught House fairly easily. I had memories of a room with lots of windows and grounds that were always wet. Mama once told me that she had to keep changing my clothes in Mount Abu, as they would frequently get dirty and wet from playing outdoors in the rain. I still remember being charged by a langur in the open space behind Connaught House. (The monkeys were still there in large numbers, and that scene with the langur was to come back to me often during the days there.)
After we had settled down and relaxed a bit, I made my Barmer phone calls. The Bhurtiya re-poll finished with a 76 per cent turnout, which I thought was a good sign. After checking my emails, I turned to the CNN weather page, only to be warned about the blistering days to come. The next news was even worse for my mood, as Manchester United had won, and so had Chelsea. Eugh!
11 May 2009
Today I can say that I finally felt fully relaxed. There was no physical exertion of any kind, other than moving from the room to the lawn. And mentally, too, for there was not much happening, except for constant calls to discuss all sorts of calculations and permutations. I really could not be drawn into them. Each one forecast different figures—some too fantastic even to comprehend and others a very close contest. All that I could add to their queries and statements was my standard line: that the prospects seemed good. There were also the hucksters who were calling to make a quick buck. Dimpu had been instructed to fob them off and not get involved in any discussion about money. When they asked where I was, my standard reply was that we were in the Sirohi district on a family errand. Which was almost true as Mount Abu is in the Sirohi district, a family member is with me, but there is no errand.
It was blissful to sit on the lawn, in the shade, sip some good filter coffee and puff a mini cigar. It was such a contrast to what I had been doing for the last few months. And then to read the Economist and the Times Literary Supplement that Data had given me before leaving. Felt wonderful to be reading again. After a light lunch I began reading a book from the hotel library but dozed off into a deep sleep. It was a most relaxing and therapeutic nap. A cold nimbu-soda, sipped under the big banyan tree, was the perfect refresher after waking up. Chitra had begun a book by Hari Kunzru and was sitting at a distance from me. Thank God we are not like those clinging holiday couples. It allowed me to smoke my minis in peace, too.
Chitra was also watching more political stuff on television than I did. There is, in any case, so much rubbish on TV, and during election time that factor gets multiplied several times over. And then the constant speculation about the social engineering that had gone into making the Barmer election. I did not want to partake in it for the simple reason that there was nothing to be done about it now. Kailash Mehta, the head of the youth wing of the BJP in Barmer town, called to say that he had placed a bet for the first time in his life.
12 May 2009
Today was the last day of rest and I paid the price for reading the wrong book. I had begun A Lesson before Dying by Ernest Gaines yesterday, since the title intrigued me. Yesterday, I had had a good nap after reading a few pages but, as the story progressed, I got more engrossed in it and had to finish it. That was a big mistake—the book, a sad tale about race relations and justice (or rather the lack of it) in early twentieth-century United States, saddened me immensely and left me with a very bad feeling about humanity.
Added to that were the constant calls speculating about the election result. I stuck to my line about everything being okay. There was nothing much else I could say, but I felt better when the poorer constituents called from Barmer. When they are optimistic, the feeling is contagious, for they are the ones who have most likely voted. The problems are similar to what South Mumbai faces, about which the friends there keep moaning—that the better-off can’t be bothered to come out of their homes to vote.
Today there was much speculation about the sabotage of the election in Siwana, Pachpadra and Shiv—areas where the result should have been most favourable. The polling had not been as good as expected, many of the safe votes had not reached the booths, and so it went. This disturbed me terribly and sent me into a tailspin. This had been said earlier too, and I had often thought about it. And then in such moods, I find myself taking to the spiritual route and wondering why God would want to punish me when I had not wronged anyone. This election, I thought, was my maanavta one, where I had demonstrated my concern for human values and implemented it during my term as an MP. That, I thought, should be enough to win it. Only with these thoughts would my mind be slowly eased of the worries about ‘What after 16 May?’, and I could relax.
13 May 2009
On this day, exactly five years ago, I was elected to the Lok Sabha. Not that I remembered it. In fact, it was Chitra who reminded me, but it was not a day for nostalgia and memories. Quite the reverse, actually. Prem Dan had called, fairly early, to ask about his theory that there was sabotage in Siwana. He is one of the well-informed journalists, and his theory blew my brains. I told him that I had not made any post-polling calculations which, in fact, I had not. And that I would not be doing so either.
What I did not tell him was that, at this stage, one rejects strange, sad, bad, and similar talk. One is looking only for the good news. I have sensed my thoughts filtering the news—that is the way I am, and that is how my mind works. In the midst of this period when my mind was occasionally running wild, I got a
call from the reception that there was a visitor. I was surprised as I had not told any local person about my presence and could not think of who would have found out.
On the lawn was a man who introduced himself as Swaroop Singh of Jhinjhinyali, in the Jaisalmer district. I asked him how he happened to be in Mount Abu. He said that he had moved here many years ago and was running a hostel for students so that they benefit from the many good schools in the town. Mount Abu was one of those centres of decent education that had come up with the benevolence of the colonial authorities. He told me that he had received good reports about the elections and was positive about the outcome. It was a relief to hear some good news after all the phone calls about sabotage. I told him that he was the first visitor I had had during my stay in Mount Abu, since I had not told anyone I would be there. Somebody on the hotel staff had obviously told him about my visit. He would also be the last visitor as we were to drive back today. The whole staff very sweetly lined up to bid us goodbye. We were touched, as they had been terribly good to us, and we felt a little sad on leaving, for it had been a really good break for both of us.
I put on the air conditioning in the car even before we hit the plains. Lunch break was under a neem tree a little after Sumerpur. It was very hot, but the shade made a lot of difference. Besides, the water from the Jawai Canal was flowing near where we sat. So the shade and the water combined to cool the atmosphere for us. We reached Jodhpur in exactly five hours, and I tried to take a nap, but felt too restless. After I got out of bed I decided it was time to return some of the calls that had come while I was driving. I was constantly being asked about the programme for the next day. I felt too lazy to drive again but I had to, so I confirmed to all that I would reach Barmer the next day. Actually, I had to go there more for social than political reasons.
Dinner in Jodhpur was with Ricky Bhai, a cousin, where it was all relaxed banter—not much political talk and a lot of music. I was surprised to see how much Vishu, his son, had grown and that he was now talking about The Doors. Naturally, I was impressed. We then compared our iPod lists and showed off to each other. After dinner, I told Ricky Bhai that I had not had a Jodhpur paan in years and wanted to visit the chap in Sojati Gate from whom we used to get paan. The man was very surprised to see me, quite possibly for the first time since I was elected. He produced one of his fabulous saada paans. And on the way back, I introduced Vishu to Beastie Boys, told him this was essential fare for total growth. And the song that I played for him was Fight for your right to party. What was I doing, I asked myself—in his parents’ presence I am making him listen to this, the nuttiest Beastie Boys song! What a day!
14 May 2009
The body clock is beginning to tick again, and so I got up at 5 a.m. The anxiety levels were now going up again. The counting day, the last day, the judgement day in many ways, is so near now, even the body senses it, or so it seems. Instead of leaving early for Barmer, I just pottered around the house, lazy and uncoordinated, answering calls and trying to check emails but without luck as power cuts were interrupting everything. So we finally left at 9.30 a.m., and I would have to go directly to the Barmer programme.
The programme, essentially, was a combination of an engagement ceremony and adoption. Or that is how it had been planned, anyway. The nicest personin public life in all Barmer had passed away recently, without leaving an heir to his inherited title. His widow had brought up her brother’s daughter, whose engagement was to take place today to a local boy who belonged to the same clan as her late husband. This would also double as the boy’s accession to the title.
Hamir called while we were still some way from Barmer and gave me the bad news about the Wigan Athletic versus Manchester United match—at a level score until the eighty-sixth minute when Carrick scored the winner for United. Had they drawn, it would have given Liverpool the best chance possible since United had yet to play Arsenal. What terrible luck, I thought, as we drove towards Barmer. Now we would have to hope for a better result when United played Arsenal in a couple of days.
It was very hot by the time we reached Barmer but there was no option except to climb the stairs to reach the venue of the programme. The estate, spread over the hilltop, overlooks Barmer town and also affords a striking view of the surrounding plains. There was a huge attendance from out of Barmer, with gentry from other parts of Rajasthan there too. As I went around greeting everybody, my namesake from Rohet, and the father of a dear friend, asked about the prospects in the election. I smiled and pointed to Guda Mamosa, my mother-in-law’s brother, and said, ‘He knows the result best as he is a Congressman.’ Before having something to eat, I sat for the customary photographs with the boy who was getting engaged. I took an instant liking to him—he had a pleasant expression and perfect manners.
Sanjay Ramawat, once my main adviser and now working with the oil company Cairn, was with me throughout, as his family is closely connected to the Barmer family. He dropped me back home, by which time I was very sleepy. But the nap was very fitful, and I did not feel rested at all after I woke up. It must have shown on me for Chitra asked why my eyes were so red. Kanhaiya and Bhupesh, local stringers, came to see me about interviews, but essentially to find out how I was spending my time before counting day. They then said that I owed them a party as the result was going to be favourable. I promised them a meal. The conversation meandered towards the newspaper that had boycotted my coverage because I had not paid up. They had sensed it but wanted a confirmation from me, which I gave. We were sitting in an upstairs room on the terrace, as it was more private than the ones on the ground floor. It was more breezy, too, which was a boon since the power cuts were more frequent now, and of longer duration.
As they got up to leave the power came back, so I told them to tell the other visitors downstairs that I would be down as soon as I finished checking my mail. Today was the day the new Liverpool Away kit was to be unveiled, and I was most eager to see what it looked like. And it was totally fabulous, the coolest black I had seen in a football kit in a long while.
Youth-wing activists Rajendra Bhinyad, Veer Singh and others were waiting when I went down. The ever-pessimistic Veer Singh was now finally smiling and became more cheery when Khuman Singh Balasar joined us and said all sorts of things about how good the ‘shaguns’ were. It certainly made me feel better since Khuman Singh had not really been considered as being favourably disposed towards me. After they left I wanted to call Shafi but was too tired to make more conversation.
15 May 2009
I woke up before 6 a. m. and saw that there was a missed call from Tikma Ram. I called him back and he sounded particularly cheerful for such an early hour. He said that he had called because of a dream that he had had, in which his guru came to him and said that the election was going to go well, and that he should not be worried about it. Tikma Ram thought that was the best possible omen. Then, more of the same happened with calls from around the constituency—Hindus and Muslims calling, to say the same thing about dreams and shaguns. Soon enough, visitors began to arrive at home. We had a round-table discussion, in which Murad joined a little later, to talk about the options. During the discussion, Om Prakash, the local wheeler-dealer, called from somewhere in Barmer town. He was sitting with a jyotish who declared that, as per the calculation, there was a fairly comfortable margin. I thanked them both and said, ‘Let us see how it goes.’
After lunch I tried to nap, since there was not much else to do in the searing heat. But I could not get myself to relax and unwind, for there was too much anxiety in the body. And then moments of utter calm followed. This up-and-down was killing, I thought to myself a number of times. The waiting period is the worst. Not knowing the result is the real trauma and so I ended up smoking too much. I went back to the ground floor as there was no longer any point in trying to rest. And then there were people constantly coming in. Dimpu and Shambhu Singh, an uncle, came in around 6 p.m. It was nice to have Dimpu here. After sitting with them for a bit, I went to t
he party election office to check on the arrangements for the counting agents. By the evening, all those who had to be in the counting halls had already arrived.
While I was at the party office, there was a call from Kishore Sharma, once an aspirant for a municipal election ticket, who was about to board the Thar Express to visit his relatives in Pakistan. He was sure of victory and said that this election was a contest between six MLAs and ministers on one side and eleven fakirs on the other. I thought that was a rather touching description of the campaign as it had turned out. Then, Bhakar Singh, influential in the areas that straddle Barmer and Jaisalmer, called from Baiya to get me to speak with Chanesar, who was insisting on coming for counting duty. I tried to dissuade him, but he would have none of it. Since there was still much to do in the party office, I told him that I would call him back. Chanesar had hurt his back quite seriously when he climbed an uneven wall in his village to get a better signal on his mobile phone and had been laid up in bed for the past few months. I did call him back to convince him not to come. Ultimately he relented, and I was a relieved man.
16 May 2009
Today, the phone calls began even earlier than usual. In fact, I woke up because of the phone ringing. And all were of the same nature: do not worry about the result as it will be good. I could only thank them. It was reassuring that the calls were from across the district and from people who were not terribly influential. I thought that was a good signal—when the poorer and the anonymous call to give good wishes.
I was at the breakfast table by about 8.30 a.m. when the first call came about the counting. It was a maulvi calling from Jhunjhunu and he said that he had checked online and that I was leading. I thanked him and said that it was still too early to say. And then there was silence. Both in terms of calls and visitors coming to the house. This is not a good sign, I thought, for by now a certain trend should be visible. Brijesh, my assistant, then called up to say that I was trailing in the first round, but that there were many more rounds to go yet. Despite my earlier apprehensions, I was shocked. However, that was to be the trend for the rest of the rounds. This produced a strange calmness in me, after the first shock. At least now I knew what the result would be.
Campaign Diary Page 19