This was his second visit to Delhi. But this time it was more colourful than what it was last time. After all there was much to cover, absorb and make-up for what he had missed on last time.
It was a quick tourney in the capital when he was there some five years ago, a shorter version of even those cheap packaged tours, but even with lack of both time and money he had managed to visit...Lal Qila, Kutub Minar, India Gate, Jantar Mantar, Purana Qila, Sansad Bhawan...and what was that last juncture...aah dargah of Nizamuddin.
“Arrey Pankha Babu...you should go to Nizamuddin...the place smell of roses. Roses! And the dargah...aah, Pankha Babu it’s such a beauty....but crowded if you go in afternoon,” he sighed as he recalled his last trip.
Pankha Babu...for whom this was his first visit to the capital was already amazed at the speed and emptiness of this phoenix city.
“What are you thinking Pankha babu?” he asked when Pankha showed no interest in his praise of the dargah.
“Nothing. When do you think the rally will start? he questioned while feeling the emptiness of the large space, located bang in the heart of the otherwise densely populated city.
“Pankha babu you’re very restless. All day I know you’ve been dreaming of that TV madam who came here and took your interview and now all of a sudden you want to be in the rally,” he said and then laughed and patted his back in continuity.
“Arrey nahi nahi...when did i say anything about that madam...you know why we are here,”...and he left the sentence hanging.
Sitting at the party office, it had been six hours. Among the chaos, till now they had made only two acquaintances, the tree under which they were and sitting and the squirrel who came every now and then to feast on peanuts which they had been munching all the way from Tirkitpur.
Back in town, this time, they would not have been alone...especially during elections.
After all they were the renowned and as their peers will say, emoting the style of a television show on absconding criminals, ‘Most Wanted’ singers. Rawat&Pankha Musical was an essential for all rallies in Tirkitpur and villages in and around the district. Some 500kms away they were stars who shine, sing and play.
Rawatji...do girls here wear these perfumes and cinema clothes?” asked Pankha...who in Khan market yesterday, had accidentally brushed against two girls and had to walk the rest of the evening with visible embarrassment in his desi cotton pyjama.
“Pankha babu...Delhi is the capital. Big big personality come here. For these people its normal. Not Tirkitpur kind,” he said.
And as Rawatji was intending to tell him of his exploits, siren sounds filled the compound. The neta had arrived. Leader of the masses. The future of the country. The one to vote for.
Rawatji...lets start....1, 2, 3
And Rawat and pankha started their most renowned song for this particular party....at the peak of their voice. A few faces in the crowd surrounding the leader looked towards them...and so did leader.
The leader took a garland from one of his supporters and walked towards them. The crowd followed. Rawat and Pankha were screaming at the top of their lungs, eulogizing the party, its symbol and the leader. The leader smiled and garlanded both of them. “You’re visionary,” he said and turned towards the hoard of television reporters.
“They are the grassroot people. They know we’ll win. They are visionary and they truly are,” he repeated as he emphasised the point to the good looking female reporter on his left.
As he embraced both of them, Rawat managed to utter, “Netaji, a school in our village. Music teachers. All will sing your praise, please look.”
“Of course, after elections. First thing. Make sure you give your name to my assistant. Ok. Anything else?”
Pankha and Rawatji bowed their head in reverence. They had done the same in 10 party offices in the last two days. After all someone will win.
“Let’s go Pankha babu. Work is done,” said Rawat as the leader moved away and with him the crowd of sycophants, leaders and reporters.
“where will you go now?” asked the leader’s assistant’s, assistant’s, assistant as he diligently noted their names and the village address.
“We’ve to visit some places. This is Pankha Babu’s first trip to capital na,” replied Rawat.
As they moved towards the gate, the assistant’s, assistant’s, assistants asked his assistant.
“Our netaji is great. These guys are blind. And he calls them visionary!”
“Yes sir, visionary he is. Visionary they are and you too sir...you had this vision to understand netaji’s vision,” he affirmed.
