Let me first say that it is indeed an honour to be delivering the PK Kaul memorial lecture. Mr Kaul was one of the country’s most respected civil servants, a product of an age when civil servants were truly çivil’. Times have changed but I do believe that there will be a core set of values that Mr Kaul represented that will last forever. And so I am humbled to be here today at the NOIDA club where I have spent many a convivial afternoon in the company of friends.
In the 2015 Delhi elections, Arvind Kejriwal didn’t just demolish his opposition; he also defeated the media. That might seem a strange thing to say since the general impression for a long time has been that Kejriwal and his AAP party are a creation of the media, and television news in particular. The fact is, February 2015 is not December 2013. Then, we couldn’t get enough of Kejriwal: he was popping in and out of tv studios and every move, every soundbite of his, was tracked with relentless energy. ‘Would you do it with any other chief minister?’ I recall Narendra Modi asking me once in a phone conversation.
There is nothing quite like an Indian election: it is, to borrow from The Times of India’s slogan, ‘the dance of democracy’. Yesterday, was yet another remarkable moment in India’s electoral history. There was a general feeling ahead of counting day that AAP was in the lead. My own figure in the office sweepstakes was a half century for AAP. But no one, least of all Arvind Kejriwal himself, could have imagined 67 out of the 70 seats.
Journalism can leave you with tattered minds and bloated egoes: so were the wise words imparted to me by the late RK Laxman early on in my career. He was right: over the years, I have seen perfectly decent men and women allowing themselves to be overcome by hubris and petty battles. Did I get my byline? What happened to my piece to camera? Why should I share screen space with someone else?
Just before the December 2013 Delhi elections, our housekeeper, who has been the mainstay of our home for over a decade, came with a special request. “Sir, I want to get a voter ID card,” she said enthusiastically. We managed the voter card and on election day, she turned to me triumphantly with her inked finger, “Humne jhadoo ko vote diya!” Now, over a year later, she is planning to vote again for AAP. It’s the same with the municipal worker who cleans the street near our home, the driver and the watchman.
