India Read Free Page B

north-west of Delhi. We would say, ‘Every girl is my sister, I won’t look at her.’ That is all gone.” This was probably true. In Delhi, relationships between men and women were now possible in a way they would not have been when he was young in the 1940s. “It seems to be a conspiracy of some rich people to create an environment where boys and girls can engage in such activity. Some of these people import ideas from America and Britain. They are romantic in bus stands and parks, and they go to nightclubs. This is a hot country, and they should not be eating meat and drinking liquor. Men from this place are meant to eat nuts, fruit, berries and vegetables—and not chicken.”
    Dr. Sita Ram Sharma disliked social change, and his particular anger was reserved for the local press in Delhi. “I am a vegetarian, I don’t take wine. They will not publish anything about my campaign because I do not bribe the journalists with liquor.” 10 Part of the difficulty for him was that Hinduism offered no clear religious sanction against many of the things he was describing. A hair-stylist in Mumbai who prepared beauty queens for shows, Bharat Godambe, had summed up the conservative difficulty to me: “In India, you can do things that you can’t do in our neighbouring countries. Here, it’s an open culture. You can wear a two-piece swimsuit. Hindu culture doesn’t say to people, ‘You can’t do it.’ ” 11
    The BJP candidate, Vijender Gupta, was a prominent councillor in the municipal corporation of Delhi. I felt as if I knew him already after seeing his Facebook fan page, with its elaborately mustachioed photo: “He is rendered with a pleasing personality, charming mannerisms, vibrant vitality and forceful and convincing oratory skills.” We were going out on the road, and as I waited for his convoy to pick me up I received a phone call “on behalf of Mr. Gupta” to apologize that they were running fifteen minutes late. This was quite something in Indian politics, where leaders will happily keep people waiting for hours on end. (In one notorious instance in Bihar in 2008, a state politician kept flood victims waiting for thirty hours before arriving to inaugurate a relief camp. Until “minister saheb” got there, nobody could be assisted.) 12
    Vijender Gupta arrived in a large cream pick-up covered from bumper to bumper with a carapace of party stickers, with a loudspeaker on the roof. He was in white socks, box-fresh slip-on trainers, a tight pyjama outfit and a gold waistcoat; his wrists were wound with red strings from the temple. First we visited a newspaper office, where he complained he was being given insufficient coverage and waved his index finger at the editor, a grey-haired woman with a sceptical face. Next we headed for a rally being held in his honour by Gujjars. Their ancestors were cattle-herders in Wazirpur village, but now the village was part of Delhi and the Gujjars were classed as OBCs. They were looking for assistance, and ideally for classification as a Scheduled Tribe, which would bring them the benefit of job reservations. “After the Gujjars,” said a worker as we bounced down the road towards Wazirpur, “we are going to meet some members of a particular community.” This was BJP code for Muslims. I asked which community he meant. He looked at the other workers with a grin. “The Mohammedan community.”
    About 200 Gujjars were waiting under a large green tree in a courtyard. They had a long red turban to present to Vijender Gupta. All the senior male Gujjars had to feel or touch the turban to be sure it was of fine enough quality to be wrapped around the candidate’s head. It was about 40°C. Flies were everywhere. Vijender Gupta made a vigorous speech, attacking Congress for not supporting the Gujjars. With a lot of cheering, we set off for Ajmeri Gate with a siren going on the roof of the vehicle and the driver announcing “make way” and “pull over” while shooting along the