11

Asha Devi settled into her front-row seat in the Lok Sabha, trying hard to shake off the dread that beat like a pulse within her. She draped her beige pashmina shawl more tightly around her shoulders. Winter had finally arrived in Delhi halfway through December. And Parliament with its vaulted ceilings and thick stone walls was always a few degrees colder than the outside.

The weather was not the only thing sending a chill up her spine. There was also the fact that she would soon be going head-to-head with Satyajit Kumar, the SPP chief. As leader of the Opposition, Kumar had filed a motion to discuss the events that led up to the Jamia Nagar operation and the consequences that followed its failure. And as Prime Minister, she had to be present and ready to answer the questions he raised.

Seated directly opposite her, across the well of the House, Satyajit Kumar looked immaculate in a kurta so white that it bled into blue, his only concession to the arrival of winter a doshala carelessly thrown over one shoulder. As he riffled through the papers placed before him, his air of calm assurance was almost palpable. That wasn’t surprising in itself—Kumar was a seasoned parliamentarian and a veteran of debates like these—but Asha felt a spurt of irritation nonetheless as she took in his posture of studied confidence.

What right did he have to look so at ease when she felt so rattled even before a single word had been spoken?

Kumar was now clambering on to his feet, laying down his papers with a flourish as if to establish that he didn’t need any props to make his case. Turning to the Speaker of the House, he bowed slightly and began speaking in that special baritone he reserved for occasions like this.

‘Madam Speaker, thank you for this opportunity to raise my concerns in this August House,’ he began ponderously. ‘It is with a heavy heart that I stand here today. It gives me no pleasure to say this but this government has failed. It has failed our country utterly and completely. The Prime Minister has proved herself unfit for the post she occupies—a post she holds only because of the family she was born into . . .’

The very mention of the word ‘family’ triggered the LJP members of the House, programmed as they were to defend the Pratap Singh dynasty to their last breath. Kumar’s next words were lost in the din they created, shouting abuse at the leader of the Opposition and raising slogans in favour of Asha. It took the Speaker a good minute to restore order so that Kumar could resume his speech.

If the ruling party members thought that this would put Kumar off his game, they were completely wrong. Past master at dealing with hecklers, Kumar remained entirely unruffled. Picking up smoothly from where he had left off, Kumar began enumerating the many ways in which Asha Devi’s government had failed on the national security front. First, the government hadn’t had the slightest clue that a terror attack on Kautilya Mall was imminent, which pointed to a huge intelligence failure. Then, when the attack did take place, Asha Devi had released twelve dreaded terrorists in a matter of hours just so that she could get her sister-in-law back safe and sound.

The Treasury benches erupted in outrage again, berating Kumar in at least three different languages. This time around, though, the Opposition benches gave back as good as they got. Cries of ‘Asha Devi Hai Hai’ and ‘Yeh sarkar nikammi hai’ began reverberating through the chamber, even as the Speaker ineffectually bleated, ‘Shaant ho jayiye. Baith jayiye,’ over and over again.

Kumar smiled slightly as the cross-shouting became louder and louder, and then with a small wave of his hand, quelled the hecklers on his side. It wouldn’t do for matters to get so heated that the Speaker was forced to adjourn the House. He had the whole country watching his performance and he needed to make this moment count. He wouldn’t get a better opportunity than this to make an impression on the people watching at home.

So, ignoring the stray shouts from the other side, Kumar resumed his speech. ‘Madam Speaker, let us accept—for argument’s sake—that the Prime Minister had no choice but to give in to the demands of the terrorists. Even then it was incumbent on the government to trace the masterminds behind the attack and bring them to justice.

‘Instead, what did we see? We saw a botched operation that resulted in the deaths of more than twenty security men. We saw the terrorists being allowed to blow themselves up, taking all the information they had with them. We saw high civilian casualties because the area around the operation wasn’t sanitized beforehand. We saw the loss of precious lives because this government couldn’t get its act together. We saw a complete absence of governance. We saw utter chaos.’

Asha could feel her temper rising to a slow boil. It took all the self-control she possessed to keep a neutral expression on her face. But even so, she could feel a vein throbbing in her forehead. And she was sure that it would be visible in the close-up that was beamed out to the country by the Doordarshan camera focused on her face.

Meanwhile, Kumar was going from hyperbole to hysteria. His voice pitched a few octaves above his usual range, he was now virtually shouting. ‘Is the life of the Prime Minister’s bhabhi worth more than the lives of ordinary citizens of India? Why should we release terrorists so that Bhabhi ji can be safe when we can’t even evacuate a building so that our citizens are safe?’

Pandemonium raged again. A member of the LJP stood up to make a point of order. According to the House rules, members of Parliament could not name anyone on the floor of the House who was not present there.

Before the Speaker could say a word, Kumar was back on his feet. ‘Point of order? What nonsense are you talking? Whose name have I taken? Bhabhi is not a name!’

‘Nonsense? How dare you say I am speaking nonsense?’ the LJP member responded heatedly. ‘Madam Speaker, this is unparliamentary language. I demand that it be expunged from the record.’

In the time it took the Speaker to resolve the issue, the House had calmed down somewhat. And that’s when Satyajit Kumar delivered his coup de grace.

‘Madam Speaker,’ he began, speaking more gently than he had before, ‘in India we believe in family. So, it is understandable that Asha ji wanted to save her sister-in-law. But when you are Prime Minister of the country, you have to remember that every citizen of India is your family member too. Asha Devi has failed to understand that. And she has failed to look after our citizens like she would look after a member of the Pratap Singh khandaan.’

The SPP members immediately began thumping their desks in approval. Kumar held up his hand for silence. He wasn’t done yet. ‘Until now, Madam Speaker, we in India have lived by the slogan “Beti Bachao, Beti Padhao”. But sadly, the events of the past few months have forced me to coin a new slogan for India: “Desh Bachao, Iss Beti Ko Hatao”.’

As he said these words, Kumar dramatically raised his hand and pointed his finger at Asha. She looked back at him as coolly as she could manage, while the LJP members of Parliament ranged behind her went berserk. When the noise and shouting did not cease even after a good five minutes, the Speaker adjourned the House until later in the afternoon.

That’s when it would be Asha’s turn to speak.

* * *

Everyone from the TV anchors fulminating in studios to the viewers watching at home was agreed on one point: the morning had been an unqualified triumph for Satyajit Kumar. The Leader of the Opposition had eviscerated the Prime Minister. And he had done so with all the aplomb of a trained assassin who can murder someone’s reputation without even breaking a sweat.

And in the process, he had gifted the media with a killer slogan as well: ‘Desh Bachao. Iss Beti Ko Hatao’. Save the nation. Get rid of this daughter.

With those six words, Satyajit Kumar had sent out a message to a country that was rapidly becoming fed up with dynasty. He had tapped into the feelings of those feeling cheated about being ruled by a young woman whose only qualification for the job was that she had won the genetic lottery. Though, as Kumar had put it rather pithily while speaking to cameras outside Parliament, in Asha Devi’s case the words DNA stood for Don’t Know Anything.

None of the media people crowded around him had pointed out the obvious: ‘know’ began with a ‘k’ rather than an ‘n’. It was just too good a line to find fault with.

Manisha was not in the mood for jokes, though. She had found out only yesterday that the Prime Minister was giving the exclusive that had been promised to her to Gaurav Agnihotri instead. So, her mood today could best be described as murderous. ‘Well, that was brutal,’ she said, as she turned to her studio guests to begin the debate. ‘I thought that Satyajit Kumar would give Asha Devi a bad time. But even I hadn’t thought that he would be quite so effective in destroying her completely.’

Pivoting left to look at the LJP spokesperson, Dhruv Sahai, Manisha asked, ‘That was a pretty devastating summary of the many ways in which Asha Devi has failed this country. How on earth can your Prime Minister recover from this?’

‘What do you mean by “your” Prime Minister?’ asked Sahai belligerently. ‘Asha Devi is not just my Prime Minister. She is the Prime Minister of the country. She is “your” Prime Minister too . . .’ The man had clearly decided that offense was the best defense.

‘Yes, yes, all right,’ Manisha cut in impatiently, not prepared to play this game. ‘I agree. She is my Prime Minister too. She is everyone’s Prime Minister. Now could you please answer the question?’

Mollified by her rapid climbdown, Sahai softened his tone. ‘Manisha ji, how can you pass judgement on the Prime Minister even before she has had a chance to defend herself? All you have seen so far is the Leader of the Opposition making up absurd allegations against Asha ji. He is spreading Fake News, and instead of challenging him on it, you are falling for it hook line and sinker!’

The SPP spokesperson, Lokesh Bharadwaj, who had been shaking his head all through, butted in. ‘Fake News?’ he asked incredulously. ‘How is any of this Fake News? The whole country watched aghast as the Prime Minister released so many dreaded terrorists in exchange for her sister-in-law’s life. We saw for ourselves how the Jamia Nagar disaster unfolded . . .’

‘Please stop spreading untruths,’ countered Sahai. ‘The Prime Minister did not release terrorists just because her sister-in-law was held hostage. You seem to forget that there were 200-odd other women inside the mall at the same time. Are you seriously suggesting that Asha ji should have risked the lives of all these people? If she had done that you would be sitting here criticizing her for that. It really is a case of damned if you do, damned if you don’t.’

Bharadwaj wasn’t having any of that. ‘Oh, I am sorry. I didn’t realize that we had to be cheerleaders for a Prime Minister who has shown zero leadership skills from the day she took charge. Look at the Jamia Nagar operation she mounted! What a complete disaster . . .’

‘She mounted the operation? Did Asha ji put on a flak jacket and go into the building?’

‘Obviously not! But the fact is that she is Prime Minister now. And the buck stops with her . . .’

The usual suspects had been rounded up in the NTN studio as well. But unlike Manisha, Gaurav was hamstrung by the fact that he had an interview with the PM scheduled in a week’s time. The last thing he wanted was to risk it being cancelled, like Manisha’s had been. So, he had to be more circumspect when conducting the discussion in his studio.

‘Well, ladies and gentlemen,’ he began, pushing up his spectacles on his nose, ‘it looks like the country finally has an Opposition worth its name. Satyajit Kumar has shown us what true opposition looks like. And he has done so without following in the footsteps of his predecessor who had to resort to leaking naked photos of his adversary to do so . . .’

As expected, the SPP spokesman immediately jumped into the fray. ‘Gaurav ji, please do not make these wild accusations. You cannot slander our leader in this way . . .’

‘Your leader?’ sneered Gaurav, ‘You didn’t waste any time in getting rid of Jayesh Sharma the moment he proved to be a liability. How is he your leader now?’

The SPP spokesman subsided meekly as he remembered, belatedly, that he had a new boss now. And that he should rightly be singing the new boss’s praises. ‘You’re right. Jayesh ji is not our leader now. We have Satyajit ji in charge now, and as even you have conceded, he has done a brilliant job in Parliament today.’

Gaurav turned to the LJP spokesman to take the discussion forward. ‘This was not a good day at the office for Asha Devi. How does your party recover from a day like this?’

The LJP spokesman grabbed this softball gratefully with both hands. ‘Bad days and good days are just a matter of perspective. I can assure you that Asha ji does not see this as a bad day. For her, this day provides her with an opportunity to lay her case before the country. She will present all the facts as they are later today. And the people watching can make up their own minds as to who is in the right—the Leader of the Opposition or Madam Prime Minister.’

Gaurav decided it was time to bring a neutral party into the debate. Turning to one of his regular panelists, Shaila Kaul, the political editor of a national daily, he asked, ‘You have been watching the debate. What did you make of it?’

Shaila Kaul, having gauged Gaurav’s mood, decided to tread softly. ‘Well, Gaurav, we have only seen half the movie yet. We should not be rushing to post reviews in the interval. Fairness demands that we listen to Asha Devi’s side of the story as well.’

Arindam Datta Ray, ex-editor of a newspaper, wasn’t prepared to be quite so charitable. ‘I usually agree with Shaila,’ he said, with a smile towards his co-panelist, ‘but today we will have to agree to disagree. Satyajit Kumar just gave us a master class in how to destroy one’s opponent. And I really don’t see how Asha Devi can recover from this, given that the facts are on Kumar’s side. She has been a complete failure as Prime Minister . . .’

Gaurav cut him off before he could say anything more damaging. Turning to the SPP spokesman, he said, ‘I know that everyone is going crazy over the slogan that Satyajit Kumar gave us today. Desh Bachao, Iss Beti Ko Hatao. But is this really the right message to give to a country when female infanticide and foeticide is so prevalent? Whatever your differences with Asha Devi, whatever your view of dynasty politics, is this the right message to send out to a nation that still doesn’t give daughters their rightful due?’

The SPP spokesman had a trapped look on his face. He hadn’t expected Gaurav Agnihotri to go down this path. And he had no ready answer for this question. So, he resorted to blustering instead. ‘Gaurav ji, the one thing you cannot fault my party on is its treatment of women. Do you know that we gave as many as 34 per cent of seats to women candidates in the last election? We look after our betis very well, we don’t need lectures on how to treat our daughters.’

‘So, you have respect for every beti in this country, except for the beti of Birendra Pratap Singh?’ sneered Gaurav. ‘That makes zero sense!’

‘No, it makes perfect sense. We stand by the daughters of India who are struggling to find jobs, to put food on the table, to live a life of dignity, or just to be safe when they walk the streets. We do not stand by a daughter who has done nothing in her life except trade on her family’s wealth and privilege. We do not stand by a daughter who has a job only by virtue of who her father was. You may stand by dynastic succession in politics; we do not. And I think the country agrees with us rather than you.’

With an uncharacteristic flash of restraint, Gaurav ignored this direct attack on him, and turned to the LJP spokesman instead. ‘What do you have to say to the charge that Asha Devi’s only qualification to her job is her DNA?’

‘That is complete nonsense,’ retorted the LJP spokesman. ‘Never before in the history of this country has a Prime Minister been tested so rigorously in the first three months of her tenure. And Asha ji has more than proved her mettle. Why is it that nobody remembers the decisive action she took when she ordered a surgical strike against the terrorist camps run by Pakistan? That one action prevented at least another ten terrorist attacks in the future. How come you don’t give her credit for that?’

Before Gaurav could respond, the voice in his ear told him that the Lok Sabha had been reconvened and the studio feed cut back to the House. And not a moment too soon. Asha Devi was on her feet and ready to speak.

* * *

The thumping of the desks began as soon as she stood up. The Prime Minister held on to the desk in front of her in an unconscious attempt to steady herself as the LJP members of Parliament ranged behind her began chants of ‘Asha, Asha, Asha,’ until they were finally silenced by the Speaker.

Grateful for that small moment of respite to collect herself, Asha took a deep breath and began. ‘Madam Speaker, thank you for this opportunity to address the House today,’ she said. Turning to face Satyajit Kumar, seated across the Well of the House, she added, ‘I would also like to thank the Leader of the Opposition. If it hadn’t been for all the lies that he spewed earlier today, I would not have had a chance to put the truth before the people of India.’

Immediately members of the SPP were on their feet protesting this libel against their leader. The word ‘lie’, they insisted, should be expunged from the record. After a bit of back and forth, the Speaker conceded their demand and Asha resumed her speech.

Laughing ruefully, she said, ‘Madam Speaker, I apologize. I misspoke when I used the term “lie”. What I should have said is that the Leader of the Opposition was economical with the truth. But then, Satyajit ji only has a passing acquaintance with “truth” so that was only to be expected.’

The LJP members laughed obediently at this flash of wit and Asha felt her nerves settling down. Maybe she could do this, after all.

‘One of the charges that the Leader of the Opposition leveled at me is that I let go of twelve terrorists only so that I could get my bhabhi back home safely,’ began Asha. Then, turning so that she faced Kumar head-on, she added, ‘I would like to ask him if he was aware of how many bhabhis, betis, behens, bahus and matas were among those taken hostage that day.’

Pausing for a moment, almost as if she expected him to respond, Asha answered her own question, ‘There were 225 women inside that mall that day. There were also ten children and fifteen men. All these people had families waiting for them at home. All of them had loved ones who died a thousand deaths thinking that they may have lost them forever.’

Asha paused, and then, with a dramatic break in her voice, continued. ‘Satyajit ji may not know how that feels. But I do. Because I was one among those hundreds of people who had no idea if their loved one would make it back home.

‘Madam Speaker, I don’t know what the Leader of the Opposition would have done if he had been in my position. Maybe he would have made different choices than I did. Maybe he would have been happy to risk the lives of all those people just to tell the world what a strong leader he was. It’s what men do, isn’t it? Show off their strength and power no matter what the cost to others?’

Asha aimed a complicit smile at the Speaker, almost as if to say that, as women, they knew just what men were made of. And then, ignoring the many shouts of protests from the Opposition benches, she continued, ‘Well, I decided to put the interests of my people above the interests of my government. Because that’s what good leaders do. That’s the lesson that my father taught me: always put your people above all else. And I am proud to say that this beti learnt that lesson all too well.’

Asha stopped for a minute to allow the applause from the LJP ranks to wash over her. Then, turning to face Kumar, she continued, ‘Satyajit ji, you have a daughter too. And I am sure that you love her as much as my father loved me. Do you think she would be proud of you today when she hears your attack on another beloved daughter? Do you think she will be happy to hear you use the slogan you raised against me?

‘Iss beti ko hatao?’ asked Asha, pointing to herself. ‘Is that what it has come to? Attacking me because of whose daughter I am? Insulting my martyred father by saying that my DNA stands for Don’t Know Anything?

‘Well, at least I know one thing. I know that the word ‘know’ begins with a “k” and not an “n”. You, sadly, don’t even know that.’

The LJP members burst into loud laughter at this, while Kumar smiled weakly, trying to show that he wasn’t stung by this attack. But as Asha began speaking again, looking around the House to make her points, she realized that something was off. It took her a minute to work out what it was.

But when she did, she could think of nothing else. While the Opposition benches lost no opportunity to heckle her, using their newly minted slogan ‘Desh Bachao, Iss Beti Ko Hatao’ and her party members applauded every line she spoke, the middle of the House—where the members of the Poriborton Party sat—was conspicuously silent. Yes, they weren’t joining in the slogans against her, but they were not cheering her on either. Instead, they watched the proceedings in rapt silence, not bothering to thump their desks in approval when their allies in the LJP did so.

No, she wasn’t imagining this, thought Asha as she concluded her speech. The PP members were sitting on their hands deliberately. And they could only be doing so on the instructions of their Supreme Leader, Sukanya Sarkar.

Her ally had decided to abandon her to her own devices—at least in Parliament. Would it only be a matter of time before she did that outside of the House as well?

Asha realized that she didn’t know the answer to that question. And that left her more rattled than the entire Lok Sabha debate had.