Anna Hazare has made history. He has become an authentic hero. His pronouncement resonated throughout the country. The media gave him considerable space, paying great attention to every word he uttered. Mr Hazare’s PR skills are unique: keep the message short, repeat it as often as possible, no verbal overkill, and no vaporous bombast. He is not long-winded like some of his windbag chelas (followers).
He has courage. He knows his mind. Though not intellectual himself, he attracts them. He has converted a limited vocabulary into an effective non-violent instrument. His inner resources are formidable. He has phenomenal physical stamina for a man of his age — even his doctors were impressed.
Mr Hazare has another asset. Luck favours him. Errors by the United Progressive Alliance government have come to his rescue time and again. He took full advantage of a government that appeared to dither, was confused, incoherent, lacking direction and will. At each stage, Mr Hazare outwitted this ill-lead government. The crowds increased by the hour and were not confined to Delhi; they had a pan-India presence.
Mr Hazare was wise enough not to fall for the “he is the second Gandhi” nonsense. Mahatma Gandhi’s achievements are in a different, higher league. Gandhiji, then 50 years of age, took over the leadership of the freedom movement in 1919. His opponent was the well-entrenched British Raj. In those days, communication was an uphill task: no email, no Facebook, no Twitter, no mobile phone, no fax, no iPod and no TV. Yet, Gandhi’s message reached every nook and corner of India. He travelled third-class by train. He had no media team to manage or propagate his political programme. How did he achieve his goal? The message and the man merged.
Mr Hazare is an astute product of the age of 24x7 television and SMS. He understands modern techniques and is a propagandist of the highest calibre. It is remarkable that he has attracted millions of young men and women. In him they see hope. They electrified his movement, while he drew inspiration and strength from them. The middle class has been the constituency of Prime Minister Manmohan Singh. Perhaps it is no longer so. His image has taken a beating. He does not have friends, even in the Congress party. The number of his critics is increasing at a galloping pace. His Cabinet is getting out of control. The prime minister selected two Cabinet ministers to negotiate with Mr Hazare and his team — both had to be dropped, unceremoniously. Though the prime minister’s honesty is so far not in question, his political judgement is. In his extempore speech in the Lok Sabha, he asked the leader of the Opposition to look at his bank balance, etc. He sounded pathetic.
A story is doing the rounds. A senior congress leader allegedly asked Dr Singh, “Why don’t you resign?” The well-meaning Doctor is believed to have replied, “I do not wish to split the party.” As the proverb goes: if wishes were horses, beggars would ride; if turnips were watches, I would hang one by my side.
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On September 11 this year America will commemorate the tenth anniversary of the attack on the Twin Towers and the Pentagon. On September 11, 2001, my late daughter Ritu and I were flying over the Atlantic Ocean in an Air India 747. Two hours later, she said, “Papa, why is the plane turning around?” I asked a senior member of the cabin crew “What’s wrong”? He whispered in my ear, “Sir, we are returning to London. Several explosions have been heard in New York. The Kennedy Airport is closed. All flights that have not crossed the halfway mark over the Atlantic are returning to London. We are not making an announcement to avoid panic. I shall keep you informed.” Had we kept flying to New York, we would have remained at the Kennedy Airport for several days. There was utter confusion at London airport. Dozens of flights had landed. Getting our baggage turned into a major task.
For the next few hours we were glued to the TV. I was living in New York when the Twin Towers were being built. They had enriched the New York skyline. Now I was seeing them come down, burning, with thousands trapped inside. For the first time in its history, mainland America had been attacked. September 11 shocked America, united America and changed America. The fanatic followers of Osama bin Laden rejoiced. The Al-Qaeda had arrived on international TV.
TAILPIECE
Colonel Muammar Gaddafi was 27 when he overthrew the King Idris of Libya in 1969. The Colonel’s rule ended in August 2011. How and why people put up with him for 42 years remains a mystery.
I saw Colonel Gaddafi at close quarters at the Harare and Belgrade summits of the Non-Aligned Movement. At Harare, he made an hour-long speech, which was frequently cheered by four beautiful armed girls. In Belgrade he arrived with his favourite camel. The ship of the desert attracted more media attention than the conference. At the opening ceremony I found myself standing next to him. I greeted him. “From India,” he said. “Yes, your Excellency”. “Rajiv Gandhi, good man,” he announced, turning his distinguished back on me. Today, Libya has turned its back on him.