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Delhi election mash-up: AAP's beats, BJP's mushy tunes, Congress's retro-patriotism

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Aditya Mani Jha
Aditya Mani JhaFeb 06, 2015 | 14:15

Delhi election mash-up: AAP's beats, BJP's mushy tunes, Congress's retro-patriotism

"Haath toh haath hai,

Haath toh haath hai (*higher octave*) 

Congress sabke saath hai!"

In dreams induced by an evening of red wine, I often see a group of alien Mariachi musicians with metallic pincers and Raghu Ram goatees. Only this wasn't a dream: it was a bitterly cold Sunday morning (two Sundays ago, in fact) at Bhagwan Nagar Chowk and the Mariachi musicians were outside my apartment building, sans pincers, armed with acoustic guitars and Nehru topis, singing the Congress song with audible glee. Bhagwan Nagar, for the uninitiated, is what happens to you if you take a left turn ahead of Ashram Chowk, and keep going until you find yourself at Jeevan Hospital, a huge, perpetually under-construction building with disco lights. In the best Delhi tradition, autorickshaw drivers still identify it using the closest munificent locality; Maharani Bagh.

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Let me tell you a little about the political cesspool that is my beloved neighbourhood (part of the Jangpura constituency); there was a reason after all, why the richest candidate in the field employed a bunch of college balladeers as opposed to a barrage of loudspeakers-on-autorickshaws.

You see, up until the Aam Aadmi Party's little coup last year, Jangpura had voted for the same candidate thrice in a row: this is Tarvinder Singh Marwah, the 54-year-old Congress leader who was once parliamentary secretary to Sheila Dikshit. No wonder, then, that Marwah's punch line is "Hamaare iraade mazboot hain, pundrah saal saboot hai", presently set to the least catchy tune in the universe, blaring non-stop from the top of a terrace diagonally opposite my own. Marwah had to resign as parliamentary secretary after he (allegedly, of course) falsified documents to get his daughter into Mata Sundri College. Marwah has declared assets of around Rs 40 crore: I should think so, judging by the impressive-looking foreign cars seen with him. Ironically, he was also on Sheila Dikshit's "Committee of Governmental Assurances"; he lost largely because of a number of infrastructural promises that sadly failed to materialise. He enjoys the support, however, of a lot of local businessmen. The man who was arranging the chairs and microphones for a little appearance last week sells me milk every day. No doubt, with Marwah's blessings, he believes he shall encroach a little more into the already cramped road in front of my house.   

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The man who defeated Marwah on an Aam Aadmi Party ticket is Maninder Singh Dhir, who jumped ship and joined the BJP late last year, joining the likes of Shazia Ilmi. Of course, Dhir claimed to be bowled over by "the most beautiful face in the country", as Kiran Bedi was. The BJP has promptly given him the chance to repeat his miracle, but those in the know feel that his victory was a vote for the AAP more than anything else.

As far as the musical wars are concerned, it's instructive to note Dhir and Marwah's respective strategies: Marwah wants to play down his wealth, his influence, his perceived complacence. The Congress, hence, has been playing only the shriekiest, most urgent-sounding patriotic numbers in Bhagwan Nagar. Lata Mangeshkar's Vande Mataram, Rahman's Maa Tujhe Salaam; that sort of thing. One one evening, Marwah's son, in a particularly austere and unwashed avatar, croaked into the microphone, "Yahaan aisa koi nahi hai jo mere pitaji ko nahi jaanta", as if trying to convince himself of his own earnestness.

The Mariachi act two Sundays ago was just an extension of this al fresco, son-of-the-soil act.  Dhir and the BJP have, I must admit, come out all guns blazing: their election song is so full of gooey happiness and joie de vivre that one almost forgets the sneaky opportunism of its candidate for a moment. The song goes "Meri Dilli ko Meri Dilli ko thodaa sa pyaar chahiye/ Kaam karne waali Modi sarkaar chahiye" and progresses, in a very Anu Malik way, from faux-rock ballad to full-blooded Punjabi dhol action. "Sabkaa vyaapaar badhaaye, ghar ghar mein khushiyaan laaye!" The "vyaapar" bit, obviously, is what our neighbourhood grocers are counting on, which explains the impromptu poori-bhaji breakfast bhandaras they've been rolling out in Marwah's name of late.

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In the light of this musical mayhem, Vishal Dadlani and the Aam Aadmi Party have been assaulting the ears of Bhagwan Nagar residents with their anthem "Paanch Saal Kejriwal" with renewed fervour. Unfortunately for them, in any mohalla gathering with a microphone and a volunteer group, there are a couple of things that happen approximately one hundred per cent of the time. One is a stray dog that manages to tangle himself in the microphone wires and then bleat his protests to the heavens, amplified to criminal decibel levels.

The second inevitable thing that happens is a child taking over the microphone, to declaim his personal manifesto to the world at large. Do you know what the manifesto goes like? The salient points are "Hello, hello, mike testing, mike testing."

Do you know why? Because for middle class children in Bhagwan Nagar, as indeed most other sleepy little mohallas in India, that is the most memorable thing they remember coming out of a microphone.

Last updated: February 06, 2015 | 14:15
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