THERE are no Indira Gandhis in 1996. But in a male-dominated polity, there are still women who want to try their luck at the ballot box. In the south, Tamil Nadu Chief Minister J. Jayalalitha is on a dawn-to-midnight crusade through the heat and dust to revive her AIADMK. In neighbouring Andhra Pradesh Lakshmi Parvathi, NTR's widow, is braving it out in the countryside, staking claim to her husband's legacy. In Uttar Pradesh, along with Mayawati battling on with the support of her mentor-in-chief, Kanshi Ram, you have the maverick bandit queen, Phoolan Devi. And in Madhya Pradesh the firebrand sanyasin, Uma Bharati, is inspiring passions as usual. Add to this the melodramatics of Mamata Banerjee and it is evident that these women are more than aware that histrionics are an intrinsic part of a politician's craft.
Jayalalitha, the darling of the masses in 1991, has been on the campaign trail for well over a week. Five years ago she was the biggest crowd puller in the state since her mentor, the late M.G. Ramachandran. Today the crowds are not only thinning out, but are also turning increasingly hostile, on occasion provoking the police to resort to firing.
At one constituency, the attendance is so thin that AIADMK men think it fit to keep their leader in the dark. As she alights from the air-conditioned Bajaj Tempo Traveller, surrounded by her Black Cats, power is switched off, save the ones illuminating the dais. The front rows are packed, giving an illusion of a huge turnout. Jayalalitha reads out a prepared speech which she repeats mechanically these days. She is confident that she will stomp back to power. Not many party workers share her opti -mism. Her confidence stems from the fact that she is virtually cut off from the outside world by her 'Z' category security and cordon of sycophants who dare not tell her that all's not well. Ostentatious splendour at her meetings keeps her insulated.
In sharp contrast, Lakshmi Parvathi goes about her cam -paign without too much pomp. Unlike Jayalalitha, she is perceived to be accessible to the people. At every stop on her tour, children clamber on to her rath but the security does not push them down. Parvathi does not refuse the drink of coconut water that she is offered at practically every village. "The peo -ple love and respect me because they know I am continuing the work of NTR," she says.
Parvathi's rath is neither air-conditioned nor does it have any comforts. There is not even a proper bed for her to rest. NTR's widow likes to sit atop the rath as it speeds through the scorching heat of rural Andhra Pradesh. She admits that cam -paigning is tough: "The work is endless. You have to be com -mitted to campaign like I am. And the people know I am sin -cere." Parvathi is confident that she will win 35 Lok Sabha seats. That may be expecting too much but there is no doubt that she is cashing in well on the NTR name.
As Jayalalitha and Parvathi put their mass appeal to the test and lead their respective parties in their own right, their counterparts in the north are obviously not in the same league yet.
MAYAWATI
Though she had a brief stint as chief minister of Uttar Pradesh, Mayawati is still to come into her own and remains in the shadow of her mentor Kanshi Ram.
Red velvet throne, pale-pink salwar kameez and BSP-blue posters lend colour to Mayawati's otherwise lacklustre cam -paign. The frown on her forehead, statistics on caste represen -tation in the BSP candidate list in her campaign speech and the Black Cats keep her away from the Baharalgunj crowds that come to hear her. Tell her this and she snaps: "Politics is seri -ous business. Why should there be hysterical mass-mingling just because a woman is campaigning?"
Two hundred meticulously scheduled public meetings in three weeks should see her exhausted and the BSP winning this elec -tion, Mayawati predicts. As former BSP ministers sing hymns to her political acumen, she sends two safari-clad men into a tizzy because the water in her flask is not quite cold. "One has to take care of oneself. It is difficult for a woman to live through these trying election times," she admits. "But then, it is difficult for women in politics generally. A family, a husband, children—just about everything has to be sacrificed." But then again, no sacri -fice is too great when there is so much at stake: "We have to win by a majority. We have to defeat that Mulayam who pretends to care for the backwards and the Muslims. I have to save Uttar Pradesh. I have to be chief minister."
UMA BHARATI
For the BJP sanyasin, it is a campaign full of confessions. "You are angry with me. You sent me to Delhi twice and I did noth -ing for you. But I had been frank. I had told you it was Ayodhya you were voting for," she says. "But since I have fin -ished my job there, this time I will work for you." Not inter -ested in promises, however, the villagers of Nengwa in the Khajuraho district queue up to touch the sanyasin's feet instead. Bestowing blessings upon them, Uma Bharati occa -sionally hugs and kisses her electorate. Tugging at the grey beard of an aged supporter, she orders him to tell his family to vote for her. "If I lose this election, it's going to be embarrass -ing for you. What'll you say to the world, if your daughter loses?" she asks threateningly. Dubbing herself "Atalji's ladli" she promises to 'snatch' money from his pocket—"when he becomes PM this time"—for her constituency.
She cracks jokes about "these times of Kumbhakarna Rao in which Lord Ram's name cannot be uttered". But as she laughs with the villagers at the Congress' plight in Madhya Pradesh, the constituency's BJP workers talk of her fears and insecurities. "This election is going to test Bahenji's independent winnabil -ity. She has to prove her salt in her homeground. She's been so busy and has done so little for this place. They should have allowed her to contest from Gandhinagar. No BJP issue is going to help her this time," they say anxiously.
But, not a trace of worry can be detected on Uma's tilak-smeared forehead. Observing that people in her constituency could never let her down unlike 'many' in Delhi, she says: "Here things are different. I sleep amidst my workers. I come out of the bath in a petticoat. No one raises an eyebrow. Here, a woman is a daughter. They'll take care of me. This is my home. I cannot lose here." Then, the orange-robed sanyasin, with a huge tiffin in tow, gets into her Tata Sumo to campaign in Koonwarpura, a village she has never visited in her two terms as an MP.
PHOOLAN DEVI
With jingling gold bangles, tinkling silver anklets, gaudily glit -tering toe-rings and husband Umaid in tow, the Bandit Queen campaigns to reign over the hearts of Mirzapur constituency. Hysterical crowds at small hamlets elbow each other to catch a glimpse of Chambal ki Rani who arrives in a brand new Contessa, seats still covered by polythene. A wave of hand here, a smile there, and Phoolan Devi takes her place on the make-shift manch. "Stand up, they want to see you. You're no less than a phillum star," whispers Umaid into her ears, with a naughty pinch on her bottom. Phoolan pouts, wrinkles her nose and obliges. She relishes the barfi, the mathri or the lad -doo that is offered. And breaks into a speech.
An outsider in the constituency, she has never had a home, says Phoolan. She is looking for one in Mirzapur. "Arre mere bhaiyon, Mulayam mera baap hain aur tum sab mere naye parivar. Cycle par mohar lagao," she says. The stakes are high for her. "Victory means a new life for me. All the false cases against me would be over then," she explains simply. Then, an indulgent Umaid nudges her to go and meet the hamlet's women. She's uncomfortable. Awkward and not quite certain what to say to these women, she folds her hands and mumbles, "Cycle ko vote dena." She hurries back to the manch and the world of men. To gape at her husband as he recalls the saga of Phoolan Devi's life. "Jai Phoolan, Jai Phoolan," he fervently screams into the mike. "Thanks to her, I have forgotten my father's name. My identity now is as Phoolan's husband. She is the kind of woman the country should have as a leader."
As if on cue, silence is broken by thunderous ovation. Emotionally exhausted, Umaid takes his pride of place beside Phoolan. She smiles coyly. And a squeeze-of-hand later, they leave for yet another hamlet. To tell some more Chambal tales.
MAMATA BANERJEE
Mamata Banerjee is known for her histrionics. Even as the last day for withdrawing nominations arrived, Mamata stood on the roof of an Ambassador car and threatened to strangle her -self with her pallu if the party high command didn't give in to her demands. The drama didn't quite end there. Her support -ers attempted self-immolation and body-slashing if she with -drew from the elections. Breaking into tears, provoking mass-hysteria, whipping up emotions—all this is part of being Mamata. As also part of her campaign. For an election that she claims she's "being forced to contest".
For all that, Mamata is truly engaged in a fight for political survival in the South Calcutta parliamentary constituency. Her own constituency is not the issue. The question is what can she deliver for the Congress from her home state?
