Chapter 42 Winning an election and being a good leader are two very different things…
“Winning an election and being a good leader are two very different things. One requires the tact of a swindler, the other is the dream of idealists. You have to marry them both, bring the right amount of streaks. And there you have your sweet spot.”
Atharva wrote two words on a piece of tissue in two columns.
WINNING | LEADING
Their cups of coffee sat untouched as soft hail swirled around their table, even under the roof that the cafe owner had rolled out over their heads.
He had seen them take the seats on his only outdoor table and quietly declared them lunatics before sending the waiter and out getting some semblance of cover for them.
Atharva glanced at the inside of the cafe — cozy and warm, and full.
All the cafes they had seen on their way were full of breakfast crowds.
Shimla didn’t have an off-season it seemed.
“You mean to tell me that you won the election in J&K by tricking your way into the system?” Vikram sat forward.
“Not tricking. Being mindful,” Atharva picked up his cup and took a sip. Black, dark, hot — his struggling days. It brought a smile to his face.
“Why are you smiling?”
Atharva shook his head — “Here’s how you create a system,” he sketched out on the tissue paper, writing under the WINNING column.
“You start with individual booths. You need one Booth Head, two Pracharaks and one Panna Pramukh per hundred houses. The Pracharaks reach out to fifty houses each, drum up issues and get support for the party at a personal level. These people need to be very good at convincing. Bonus points if they are locally popular. They get ins into the houses easily. A Panna Pramukh is in charge of electoral rolls. He sits inside the booth and does dull, meticulous work that is invaluable. He turns this vocal support into names, numbers, and turnout lists. Scale this, and you have an accurate model, not only for winning but also predicting…”
“One minute, sorry to interrupt. Aren’t we going to talk candidates?”
“No. You always start with the voter.”
Vikram’s eyebrows drew closer — “But you brought that file to Chitkul, to recruit candidates from other parties instead of running membership drives.”
“I brought it assuming HDP already had booth presence. Tell me, Vikram, what has the booth-level organisation here been like?” Atharva capped his pen.
“Slower than a sarkari office.”
“And what does the high command say?”
“They believe what is fed to them.”
“Do they come to booths?”
“They come with prior intimation. You can put two and two together.”
Atharva sat back, feeling the dried sweat from his workout cool down on the back of his neck.
The man in front of him had been put through the wringer today.
In the name of talking and networking, he had dragged Vikram through workout that was pro-advanced max.
The man had not protested, even when it was evident that he hadn’t done more than stroll on the treadmill before today.
“What is your qualification, Vikram?”
“B.A. L.L.B.”
“Have you practised law?”
“For a few years.”
“And how long have you been in this field?”
“Ever since I was in school.”
“In politics?”
“My neighbour was Satyadev Tanwar.”
“The founder of Himachal Jan Sangathan?”
Vikram nodded.
“Your family is into politics?”
He shook his head. His body language was honest, curt and unemotional. A man like that, if he were what he projected, was gold in this field.
“Satyadev Tanwar recruited you?” Atharva fed into the conversation. Vikram shook his head again.
“He was always a busy man, but he would take me along with him if I was troubling my parents or my mother was beating me up. I saw a lot of party work, rallies, tours with him. I stuck posters, went from home to home asking for votes, sat on cycle rickshaws that drove through all of Himachal. We got to eat and drink such good food wherever we went, it was party for me. Then when I was in college, he passed away. He had nobody to carry his legacy, and his ideals were diluted in HJS.”
“You didn’t join HJS?”
“Not officially, but I kept working for them, volunteering whenever I could get time off from my job.”
“Why KDP then?”
Vikram’s solemn face burst into a smile. The first proper smile Atharva had seen on his face. And Atharva realised what he had said. He burst into a chuckle.
“I am still phasing out of my old KDP life,” Atharva rubbed his hands slowly.
The road outside was soft and wintery, the sun hidden by clouds.
The hail was freezing, but he hadn’t pulled on a jacket.
Atharva glanced at Vikram. Neither had he, even though his lean body looked ready to fall with the next gust of wind.
Atharva lengthened his agony, testing his limits.
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
“And when did you join HDP?”
“One year ago.”
“Why?”
“To take down the current regime.”
“That’s your neighbour’s party.”
“And they don’t respect his ideals anymore.”
Atharva scrutinised the words that Vikram was not saying out loud. He identified a deep-rooted motivation when he saw one. And the reasons behind it would come out. In due time. For now, he had a man who was willing to power through and break into the Himachal political space.
“Ok, Vikram — here is my honest projection for Himachal Pradesh 2019 Legislative Assembly Elections,” Atharva turned the tissue around and uncapped his pen.
Total seats: 68
2019 projections:
Janta Party: 18+
HJS: 25-30
Others: 24
Majority needed: 35
“Himachal Jan Sangathan is not crossing the majority mark on its own. Last time, they got the support from independent candidates to form government. This time, those seats are our target. HDP will not be able to form a government on its own. We are too new. But we can become the younger brother and shift the power dynamics from HJS to Janta. Take five years to learn the ropes, inside the government as well as on the ground. And in 2024, climb higher.”
If he allied with Yogesh Patel over Himachal Pradesh, got him a government here, he could demand to be let off the SIT. Or at least, demand the externment be lifted off. Bargaining chips needed to be built, and here was his biggest one.
“Out of these 24 Others’ seats, 17 were marginal victories. Barely 1-2%,” Vikram pointed, excitement swirling in his voice. Atharva was thrilled to see he had done his homework. Now they were talking.
“And who were the candidates that were just under the margin?”
Vikram’s solemn, straight face broke into a grin.
“These are the candidates to be targeted, after checking their background and ideology. Even number three or four will do, as long as they have a sizeable vote share and share our ideals. And honestly, Vikram, most people working in politics, however money-minded, are here to build something lasting. For some, it may be buildings and highways, for some, it may be their reputation, for others, it may be legacy. We just need crossovers that are strong enough. A man or a woman ready to work for something greater than themselves, in the interest of their people.”
“Where do the Booth Heads come into play here?”
“Pushing these candidates over the majority mark. It’s a simple game of numbers.
You have to reverse-engineer, decide how many votes you need in a particular constituency, and go after the areas that are most likely to bring them to you.
In Kashmir, the division is intensified by religions and sub-sects, in Jammu, it is communities. Here, it is going to be castes.”
“I have a document put together on that breakdown.”
“Share it.”
“Will you be the face of HDP?”
“No.”
“But I thought…”
“I am a Kashmiri. If ever I fight an election again, it will be in Kashmir.”
“So… who will be the face here?”
“I cannot decide that. I am here to consult and ideate in an official capacity. Unofficially, I can give you the support and resources you need. Take these plans, set them in motion in Sirmaur, and bring results in the Panchayat election in March. Pitch it to high command after that and get approval for more districts. Start building a cadre instead of relying on yaks and cats from random membership drives.”
“But I want to attack Shimla.”
“With what? Infiltration of gyms to collect intel?”
“Clubs were next on my list.”
“You are welcome to come to the gym and work out with me. I will be happy to train you too,” Atharva smirked. Vikram looked sheepish.
“But leave the intel-gathering and networking to me. You get cracking on execution. You have the means for it.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment. Then gazed long and hard at Atharva.
At long last, he nodded. “Ok.”
“It was good meeting you,” Atharva pulled up his bag and began to rise to his feet, collecting the tissue paper and slipping it into his pocket.
“Can I ask you something?” Vikram voiced just as Atharva pushed his chair back.
“Yes?”
“Why are you doing this?”
Atharva stared down at the man.
“I saw what happened at Chitkul. I have seen the news. Your party there has all but disowned you. Your party here does not treat you with the respect due to you. Why are you still working for it and that too silently?”
“One,” Atharva stepped out from between the table and the chair and pushed the chair in. “Learn to not speak every thought out loud, or not in so many words. Complete transparency is a politician’s weakness.”
He slung his bag over his shoulder — “And two, I am working because that’s what I do in life. Let me know when you want to meet next.”
Atharva walked to the counter inside, paid for their coffees, and set off for home.