I very clearly remember the moment my name was announced as a candidate. After being in politics for a little over a decade and denied a chance to prove my worth and ability, this was an incredible feeling. Even as I tried to behave normally, going about my daily chores at home, my ears were clearly tuned to the TV. The moment the announcement came in: ‘Famous actress Khushbu Sundar will contest from…’, I hugged my husband. I knew I was about to embark on my most difficult journey. Till now, I was so used to campaigning for others. But this time I have to don the pads myself and enter the field to take on some furious fast bowling from my opponents.
The real challenge made itself apparent very soon. The constituency I was to contest, Thousand Lights, in Chennai, was new to me. As an in-charge of the neighbouring Chepauk-Thiruvallikeni constituency, I had worked hard over months to strengthen the BJP’s base ahead of the elections. I had networked with the BJP and the AIADMK cadre there, only to be diverted towards Thousand Lights—which was like a foreign land. So I had to jump straight into campaign mode with just twenty days to go till election day. Meetings, strategic planning, social platform visibility, press coverage…name it and it was on my plate. Too many things to do, but very little time. Thankfully, help was at hand—my niece and my husband, who put his work on hold and postponed the release of his movie, were my biggest strengths. We did not have a professional strategist to design my campaign. We gathered a bunch of young enthusiasts we knew to work for us. And their energy and fresh thinking proved to be the perfect fuel for my campaign.
I decided from day one to make my campaign very personal, so I actually walked the talk, covering 80 per cent of the constituency on foot. I would set forth on foot from 8 am, guided by local party functionaries—walking through narrow lanes to personally meet people, know about their problems, understand them and establish a personal relationship with them. How can I solve their problems till I do not relate to it? A support group member calculated that I would have walked about 12 to 13 kms every day. The blisters on my soles would be hurriedly treated overnight, only to open up again at the end of the next day. One thing that I missed sorely was my afternoon cup of tea. Invariably, we would be in the midst of a campaign and without my tea fix, I would develop a splitting headache. After two days, noticing my misery, a cup of strong tea was arranged to reach me by four pm, wherever I was.
It is easy to preach about Covid protocols, but just try adhering to them while seeking votes! I would step out of my car wearing a mask but in no time I would have had to remove it. The first demand of people would be, “We want to see your face”. Many women would like to touch me, the kids would want to shake my hand and of course, selfies were simply inescapable. You simply cannot say no when you are the recipient of such unabashed love from a clutch of eager and expectant faces. Protocols are a must, but they somehow tend to crumble before the demands of an election campaign.
I realised first-hand a girl child is still stubbornly viewed as a burden and hence, to empower the girl child, promised to deposit Rs 1 lakh for every girl born in my constituency. Another girl, ten-year-old Reena, who is 90 per cent visually challenged, wanted a proper road so she would not stumble while playing in her slum. The three-feet wide lane was uncared for all these days. A first-time voter asked if I could help in reopening a public library that has been shut. A widowed mother of two wanted a job, while another mother asked help to correct her son’s hearing impairment. I realised that the needs of people in my constituency are simple and I promised myself that I would address them. Even in these difficult times they radiate hope, not despair. If all the love that I experienced translates into votes my new address will be Thousand Lights.