Messrs Nobodies

Two days after the bjp were ousted, I bumped into Brajesh Mishra. The second most important person in the country had not yet fully recovered from the electoral shock, but his discomfiture at the party was made worse by his visible loneliness. Very few people showed any desire to talk to him and he desperately clung on to those who bothered with him at all. There is little argument that in office he was a vain, vindictive and unpleasant man, but the picture he cut was at once pathetic and poignant: Delhi’s glitterati and eggheads had other fish to fry.

It has been nearly 50 days since all the big boys and self-styled whizkids of the bjp have been in the wilderness—and they must have discovered the hard way who their real friends are. The suave and generally benign Ravi Shankar Prasad, the former i&b minister, was sulking last week all by himself at a star-studded reception, watching with envy the huge crowd his bete noire, Laloo Yadav, effortlessly collected. Even the waiters ignored poor Mr Prasad.

Because Delhi only understands the language of power, because Delhi has been weaned and groomed on power, because durbar Delhi’s future prospects in life depend on prostrating before power, because individual self-worth is calculated on how many power-wielding politicians you know, the city recognises no other form of social or political discourse. I love Delhi. However, there are aspects of its character I detest.