Coronation of a prince

Now that the deed is done, let’s pump the lad’s hand and get on with it. Wait a minute. Did I just use the word “lad”? Ooops. Rahul Gandhi at 40 plus is no lad. Laadla, yes. Not just his mother’s, but, as the Congress grandpas are hoping, of the entire nation’s too. Don’t laugh. It may yet happen.

Anything is possible in this pathetic scenario with the acute paucity of leaders. But before we start singing hosannas and rush out to anoint the Dimpled Darling, we really need to get a few things right. For starters, can we stop this nonsense of referring to him as a youth leader? Or a youth icon? What youth? At his age, Barack Obama was a Senator from Illinois, already eyeing the White House. Today, at 51, Obama has just been sworn in for a second term as President of the United States. And our Rahul (just nine years his junior) has yet to take his first few baby steps in the big, bad world of politics. Even so, compared to the fossils in his party, it is understandable that they would want to propel him forward as a youthful leader who could then become the youthful Prime Minister — just like his Daddyji before him.
Perhaps his stubble and disheveled appearance are a part of that construct. Perhaps his minders have decided that’s the look that will click with Youngistan. Maybe they are right. And maybe his critics are totally wrong when they mock his speech after this week’s dramatic nomination and elevation. I have a feeling even that (babalog speech) was a part of the overall positioning strategy. Here’s the possible scenario: Diggy and gang went into a huddle after the “Reluctance Prince” had been talked into accepting the No. 2 position in the party. Once that tiny detail was out of the way it was decided that Rahul Baba should make an untutored, straight from the heart speech after the mini-coronation. Sceptics who may have pointed out that it was not the best idea given our Baba’s… ummmm, lack of political experience, were haughtily dismissed by Diggy and everybody went home happy. Then came the “cold and dark” night which saw Rahul Baba in an agitated frame of mind. He thought long and hard about the most difficult decision he has ever taken and several thoughts ran through his head. Bingo! His speech wrote itself! He confessed he had watched his mother cry just once. Earlier, she had surprised everyone by hugging him in public. He too had allowed himself to blush, dimple and hold back tears. The moment of truth was but a few hours away. What on earth would he say to the waiting world?
Aha. India found out soon enough. We discovered through our Prince that power was actually poison. But the good son was willing to drink poison for the sake of the country. There was a Christ-like message in the imagery. The chalice was in place. Rahul had no choice but to do the noble thing, as several members of his family had done earlier — and take a swig. During his Garden of Gethsemane moment, he remembered his late father (“the bravest man I know”) and the tears in Rajiv’s eyes when his mother Indira Gandhi was assassinated. And now, here he was, Rahul the dutiful son, ready to embrace his destiny and take charge of India. I have to confess I am a sucker for sentimentality. Never mind the Doubting Thomases who scoffed at the naivete of Rahul’s childish speech, I fell for it hook, line and sinker. My motherly self reached out to the lad (yes, at this point he had regressed and become an endearing lad), and my tear ducts went into overdrive. I told you I’m an absolute sucker! What to do?
Political analysts insist Rahul Baba wasted a golden opportunity. Instead of a mature, well-thought-through State of the Nation address a la Obama, Rahul converted the occasion into a maudlin Gandhi family melodrama. That is true. So he did. But why not? How smart of him! Rahul is no Obama. He is Rahul. A pretty simple-minded chap, incapable of grand standing or brilliant oratory. It was clever of him to discard any official speech that may have been prepared for him, and decide to speak from the heart instead. At least the guy sounded genuine. But, hello! Was it smart of him to also indulge in much-needed party bashing? I think so.
Rahul merely said what others have been voicing for the longest time. He had the guts to articulate popular sentiment and say it like it is. In the bargain, he did sound like a class monitor scolding naughty students. But frankly, better that than a Sermon on the Mount. Rahul talked about reaching out to young India in a more meaningful way. That was pretty cool. What wasn’t as cool was his reference to those leading an ostentatious life and depending on their privileged positions to protect them. His digs at Delhi’s Lal Batti culture must have reddened the faces of several of his own party men. Khair, Rahul sounded really cute when he made that remark. Mainly because he himself is probably the most privileged person in India right now. Was it then, a wasted opportunity? Did he look like a wimp when he went on and on about his tête-à-tête with Mummyji? Yes, he most certainly did. But let me tell you, every desi mother watching him on TV that day must have wished fervently, “Beta ho toh aisa!” Let’s start counting those female votes, folks. The numbers are pretty awesome. Which is what makes me believe that the chweetie pie speech was no accident. Whosoever designed it deserves loud applause. Taaliyaan! India is a country of over-emotional matajis. Rahul managed to tug at several thousand heart strings in one go. He is no intellectual. But this one time, I for one think he got it right! Rahul was spot on! Chew on that, Narendra Modi.