Arvind Kejriwal and his wife Sunita (whom no one mentions) resemble the Malayali couple, T V and Gowri Thomas, except that matrimony was no bed of roses for the Thomases. T V being CPI and Gowri CPI(M), Kerala’s Left Front banished them to separate bungalows. They acquiesced in the cause of revolution and ministerial office but, reportedly, got round the hitch by installing a little door in the dividing wall. Figures could be seen slipping through it at dusk.
The Kejriwals also belong to one organisation, the Indian Revenue Service (IRS). They, too, were professionally separated when Arvind pre-empted and upstaged Mamata Banerjee with his NGO Parivartan (Poriborton for her, naturally) before taking the plunge and declaring war on the government Sunita serves as a senior officer in the Serious Fraud Investigation Office.
The husband-and-wife combine attracts no comment because at the top India is still a village. Dynasty, about which everyone grumbles whenever Rahul Gandhi so much as opens his mouth, is only one facet of the phenomenon of the same club producing all the movers and shakers. It’s like one American company making both “I love Elvis” and “I hate Elvis” badges.
India isn’t alone in elitism. When an oligarchy ruled England, no one knew whether a duke cut an earl because of deadly political rivalry or because one lusted after the other’s spouse. Pakistan’s famous 22 families continue to wax rich no matter who reigns in Islamabad. It used to be said that while Anglo-Chinese School alumni owned Singapore, Raffles Institution (RI) alumni ran it, until RI claimed after producing three prime ministers that it did both. Privilege is most blatant in Communist China where Vice-President Xi Jinping, one of the taizidang, the princelings, children of the revolution, looks set to take over as party chief next year and president in 2013. China is a special case. When Nikita Khrushchev told Zhou Enlai that the Sino-Soviet rift was inevitable because there was nothing in common between the son of a peasant like him and the descendant of nobles like Zhou, the latter replied, “We do have something in common. We have both betrayed our class!”
Exclusivity is inevitable when there are so few – in relation to population – educated men and women in public service. It used to be a talking point when Rahul’s father was prime minister that his principal media adviser (even if that wasn’t Suman Dubey’s precise designation) and most virulent media critic (Arun Shourie hadn’t yet dyed himself saffron) were brothers-in-law. A West Bengal chief secretary, Ranjit Gupta of the ICS, was committed to upholding the order that his only brother, the CPI’s Indrajit Gupta, was committed to dismantling. Today, the Roy brothers, Saugata and Tathagata, reflect the Trinamul and Bharatiya Janata Party philosophies.
Life would be dull without contrasts and contradictions. Some might say that given his wife’s high position, Arvind had no option but to denounce what he calls the “general perception that if you are in the government and if you are honest you are victimised”. But their pillow talk can’t be condemned as political insider trading. A fraud detection sleuth and a knight tilting at corruption are dedicated to the same goal of cleansing India. There’s no reason why they can’t do hand in hand through the IRS since, as Arvind told an interviewer, the Income Tax Department “actually offers great opportunity.” He didn’t disclose opportunity to do what.
Arvind needn’t press his resignation once they join forces. Neither need the government encash his cheque. The movement might still need a former army truck driver for the common touch. But two bureaucratic Kejriwals, two legal Bhushans and the million-in-one Kiran Bedi are quite capable of organising, shaping, leading and killing any crusade. That’s what India is all about. Democracy is government of, by and for the elite. Ancient Athens would have approved.