Caste in a new mould

LUNCH WITH BS/ Sachin Pilot

Sachin Pilot

Lodi Garden in south Delhi is an ensemble of flora, fauna, lovers looking for cover and pot-bellied Delhiites jogging with all the grace of an ocean liner.

Tucked away in a corner is The Garden Restaurant, surrounded by tall banyan, pipal and ashoka trees. The bay windows on the first floor give a fine view of the greenery outside.

As I discover on a lazy Saturday afternoon, waiting for my guest, Sachin Pilot, the young member of Parliament and poster boy of the Congress' all new youth brigade.

Monsoon clouds have gathered over Delhi and the lean ashoka trees are fluttering in a mild breeze when Pilot arrives, dressed in cream trousers and a cotton shirt, his hair freshly gelled. There is a sacred thread on his right wrist and a big Longines with a black dial encircles his left wrist.

At 26, Pilot is the youngest Parliamentarian in the Lok Sabha. But even his rivals admit that he has the makings of an astute politician.

His victory margin at the recent general elections from Dausa in Rajasthan was 1,65,000 "" more than what his father, the late Rajesh Pilot, could boast of during the five elections he won from the constituency. He is seen as the biggest threat to the BJP in Rajasthan in the years to come.

Though he deftly sidesteps any query to this effect, the safa (north Indian turban) he wears in public is a giveaway of his impending role in the state: while the print on it is from east Rajasthan, the style in which he wraps it on his head is distinctly west Rajasthan.

Barely a month after the general elections, Pilot claims to have visited 300 of the 2,000-odd villages in Dausa and sanctioned investments of Rs 1.2 crore out of the Rs 2.5 crore he will get to spend on his constituency this year.

A rally called by him last year at his ancestral village near Noida, which is a stronghold of Mayawati, drew a crowd of 1,50,000 from all over the north.

He makes it a point to call the nomadic Gujjars and Baddis in Kashmir, Himachal Pradesh and Uttaranchal his kinsmen. Pilot has an MBA degree under his belt from Wharton. He has interned with AT Kearney and worked with Delphi. Yet he has given it all up ("For good," he says) for a career in politics.

But today he is hungry for food. Immediately after sitting down, Pilot picks up the menu and settles for penne. There's a well-stocked bar in the restaurant but he opts for a diet Coke. I order a Moroccan lamb preparation.

I have come loaded with questions for Pilot, hoping to get some newsbreaks thanks to his closeness to 10, Janpath. But it is Pilot who fires the first question, wanting to know about "Lunch with BS" and me.

As soon as I have given a brief description of this column and a briefer description of myself, Pilot gives the first indication that he is not a babe in the woods and is well versed about Indian castes and communities, the bedrock of politics in the country "" the man knows, more or less with accuracy, where Bhandaris can be found in north India.

Over the next hour and a half, I realise that his awareness of caste configurations, especially in the northern states, is amazing. In Uttar Pradesh, for instance, he knows exactly the constituencies in which the Lodhas are present in large numbers or where the Kurmis dominate.

And he knows the subtleties of the caste equation in the cow belt: "Lodhas call themselves Rajputs but the Rajputs don't consider them Rajputs." What about the caste configuration of Dausa? Is it a Gujjar stronghold, I want to know. "It isn't. There are people from all castes there," Pilot replies.

Surprised at his knowledge, I ask him if he has been reading up books on Indian society. "Not even one." I am in for more surprises. "But I travel a lot and have visited every state capital at least three times."

By now, others in the restaurant have started recognising Pilot. A woman at the adjoining table gets up to greet him. It turns out she was his teacher at the Air Force Bal Bharati School, situated not far from the restaurant.

The Pilot family owes a lot to the Indian Air Force (IAF). Its name, to begin with. I ask him to start right from the beginning the rags-to-riches story of the family.

His father, Pilot tells me, was born Rajeshwar Prasad in a Gujjar family in Baidpura village of the Ghaziabad district in western Uttar Pradesh. When he was nine, the boy lost his father and came to Delhi to work in a cousin's dairy, delivering milk in the morning and evening in between studies.

But he was studious and ambitious. In 1964, he joined the IAF and went on to become a fighter pilot. But in 1979, he took premature retirement and joined politics. Indira Gandhi gave him a ticket to fight elections from Bharatpur.

When he reached Bharatpur, he was told by his partymen that they were expecting a pilot. There and then, in front of the election officer, Rajeshwar Prasad took a two-rupee stamp paper and changed his name to Rajesh Pilot.

"I am not aware of any other family with this surname," Pilot concludes his story. I ask him if he has heard of one "Pilot Baba," a dandy ascetic with some following in the north?

After thinking for a short while, Pilot admits he has indeed heard of him. Our food has arrived. Pilot digs into his penne, while I start work on the lamb.

Some months ago, Pilot married Sara, Farooq Abdullah's daughter. The bride's family did not attend the wedding. I ask him why. "People have their political compulsions. All I can say at this moment is that both Sara and I are extremely happy," Pilot replies.

At the moment, politics is uppermost in Pilot's mind. His immediate priority, he says, is to resurrect the Congress' fortunes in Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh and Jharkhand.

"We got only 18 out of the 145 seats in these states," Pilot has his numbers ready. Our discussion now turns to Uttar Pradesh, where a war of words recently broke out between Rahul Gandhi and Chief Minister Mulayam Singh Yadav.

Again, Pilot is quick with his numbers: "We can't make a dent on Mayawati's schedule caste/schedule tribe vote bank. But if we can get the upper castes and Muslims together, our chances will improve. There are about 50,000 to 60,000 upper castes in each constituency."

How has his Wharton education helped in managing the elections, I ask. Were there vital marketing lessons that he put to good use in the elections?

"Not at all. You have to speak the language of the people. Rajniti aise hi nahi ho jati (Politics doesn't happen just like that)," he says.

A chocolate mousse later, Pilot is ready to leave. As we leave the restaurant, a man, introducing himself as one Mahipal Singh, walks up to Pilot and says he has worked for the Congress party at Dausa.

Pilot makes small conversation till the man adds that a cyclist has rammed against Pilot's car parked outside. The errant cyclist has been asked to wait till Pilot returns and decides what to do. Anxious to see how he handles the situation, I hang around for a while. Pilot merely lets him go with a wave of his hand.