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Perhaps for the first time in the recorded history of Lunch with BS, the guest's opening gambit includes the absolutely unpalatable: "I will not eat anything. I am on a diet." So begins Supriya Sule, Rajya Sabha member and daughter of Sharad Pawar, the Union agriculture minister and head of Nationalist Congress Party. That is not all, write Suveen K Sinha and Makarand Gadgil. As soon as she sits down, Sule looks at the watch and says: "We have one hour. And no personal questions." | |||
Her large, dark, expressive eyes seem a tad wary. Perhaps explaining the concept of LWBS will break the ice — much of which seems to have formed between us.
"You know," we begin mouthing the cliché, "it is a way of looking at serious issues in a light manner."
"I know," she says, reassuringly, but adds as an afterthought, "I don't read your paper."
Can it get any worse?
The rendezvous at Indigo, a stone's throw from the Gateway of India in Mumbai, had promised much. Sule, 38, is among the most exciting politicians to watch. Pawar's only child seemed content to leave the field open to cousins and father's wards when she got married and made a home overseas at the beginning of the 1990s. She came back 10 years later, but kept herself busy with self-help groups, working to build schools for the tribals and adivasis, and secure the rights of the handicapped.
Then, in September last year, she surprised many by throwing her bonnet into the ring for the Rajya Sabha seat vacated by the death of Vasant Chavan. She was elected unopposed.
Jaws dropped when, filing her nomination, she disclosed that she and husband Sadanand Sule were worth about Rs 41.5 crore. Pawar declared assets worth Rs 3.6 crore when he contested the Lok Sabha elections from Baramati in 2004.
Suddenly, one more name was added to the list of aspirants to the throne occupied by Pawar who is 66. The crown over the heads of NCP's second rung, which includes her cousin Ajit Pawar, began to sway.
The fact that Sule chose Indigo for the meeting — it is a chilled-out place with a huge Smiths clock high on the left of the exit — raised hopes further. It showed that she was comfortable with her wealth, her lifestyle and her place in the world — a fact that got underlined when she alighted from a yellow-and-black cab. When we reached the place just before the appointed hour, we only had to give the maître d' our name. His smile became wider as he said: "Yes, Mrs Sule is joining you for lunch."
How wrong he was!
With the guest refusing to eat, we, hungry as we are, opt to starve as well. While she sips on a glass of regular water, we ravenously eye the complimentary crusty bread and butter.
Ironically, the tide begins to turn with the delicate question that we should have saved for the last. Perhaps it was hunger that made us blurt it out: "So, what is it like being Sharad Pawar's daughter?"
"It is a huge advantage to be the boss' daughter," she says calmly. "Even if people hate me, they can't say it. I keep a low profile and I have to learn a lot. But the lineage is definitely important. Otherwise, lots of people work more than I do."
But is she the natural heir apparent to Pawar? Not necessarily, she says. But she has the first right to his shares and the home.
That is hardly the way to play the game, is it? In Indian politics, if you are privileged, you play down your privileges. Is this response an aberration? We probe: "Being Mr Pawar's child, are you not sort of royalty in these parts?"
Sule chuckles. Rejecting a call on her mobile phone, she says the case was quite the contrary. As a student of Saint Columbus School and later Jai Hind College, she took the bus. Mumbai, that way, is a leveling city. In any case, no one in her circle of friends is particularly enamoured of her political life. If she were to try and discuss the Presidential election with her friends, they are more than likely to ask which one, some club's?
The wariness in the eyes is gone and as she settles into the conversation, the time barrier of an hour is forgotten. It is time to go for the kill.
"Won't you have something? It is Lunch with BS. If you don't, we will have to call it Diet with BS," we say.
She replies with aplomb: "You can call it Diet Coke with BS. I will have one. I had lunch here just yesterday. Otherwise, the food here is so good I would have broken my diet. The Pawars are obsessed with food."
Seizing on the opportunity, both of us order fresh lime soda, sweet, and begin to wolf down the bread with butter.
Sule, who has just got a house in New Delhi, where she is Monday to Friday when Parliament is in session, seems to be full of wonder and excitement about her life as an MP. She has attended three sessions and got to know people from various states and parties. She has learnt that "stupid" is unparliamentary; one can say the same thing by employing "foolish". She has despaired at the frequent adjournments. She has seen how ideology does not come in the way of human beings. She admires Gujarat Chief Minister Narendra Modi for his work in the field of education. "Every intelligent mind has a view. I see the good side in every one," she says.
But, is she aware of the other side of Modi? The mobile phone rings again. This time, she takes the call and speaks to someone in Marathi about someone not paid salary for three months. Back with us, she takes the question head on. "Religion is something to be practised privately. I go to a temple and believe in God. But my children can choose."
It has helped that women who joined the Rajya Sabha before her — such as actresses Hema Malini, who Sule calls the prettiest in the House, and Jaya Bachchan — have established their credentials and not confined themselves to women's issues. So, what are the issues for her as a leader?
"I am not a leader, only an MP." Since she is in the Rajya Sabha, and therefore not really tied to a constituency, her primary concerns are education, health and the rights of the handicapped.
Even though she does not look at herself as a leader, will she say no to a position? "No, I won't. Will you say no to a promotion?"
What is her stand on the raging issues of SEZs? "I am in favour of progress, but won't give up my house for an SEZ. Why would a farmer? Why can't we use barren land to develop SEZs?"
Is there a potential of conflict between her political career and her husband's business? "I am happy I married a rich man. I love good restaurants and travel. But why should my husband's business affect my work?"
It is past two now and her two children would be back from their swimming class. She tells the steward to pack a pizza and refuses to let us pay for it. Then, like many of her afterthoughts, she says her husband does read Business Standard. But then, he is a businessman, stupid! Sorry, foolish.
