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| Illustration: Ashoke Mullick |
Iam a bit taken aback at the white kurta-pyjama clad man, looking every inch a politician, getting up from the sofa to greet me. I’ve been expecting someone sporting jeans and a shirt, something Sukhbir Singh Badal, deputy chief minister of Punjab and president of the Akali Dal, is known to frequently wear — to office and even to party meetings. But his “Hi. Sukhbir,” as he holds out his hand for a firm handshake, tells me that this 49-year-old’s manner is certainly different from the “hello ji”, “most welcome ji” spouting Punjab politicians I had met.
His Westernised air and a barely-concealed discomfort at spouting the religio-political rhetoric so common to Akali leaders had raised hopes that he would steer the party towards a more secular direction when, at 46, he became the youngest party president in 2008. But there’s been disappointment that he hasn’t been able to break the stranglehold of the jathedars (Sikh clergy leaders) or give the party an image makeover.
“There’s nothing wrong with the image of the party,” he insists. The Akali Dal, he says, is changing with the times and is now a Punjabi party, with Hindus, Muslims and Christians at different levels of the organisation. Nor is it largely a rural party; it has a significant urban footprint. It is also expanding outside Punjab — getting one seat in the Haryana Assembly and fighting elections in Delhi. He talks rapidly, with a tendency to eat up words at times.
Sukhbir bears a strong resemblance to his 84-year-old father, chief minister Prakash Singh Badal, though he’s shorter and has a more amiable air. Father and son are going all out to ensure victory in the Assembly elections due next year, criss-crossing the state to connect with voters.
“It’s the best combination Punjab has ever got,” claims the son, who is known as the de facto chief minister. “My weaknesses are his strengths. Wherever he needs to be complemented, I pitch in.” So what are Badal Junior’s weaknesses? “That is for you to judge. Why should I talk about my weaknesses?” he laughs.
The election will be a crucial test for Badal, who became deputy chief minister in 2009. He had been pitchforked to the post, bypassing senior and tested leaders. The young man who once won a state-level clay modelling championship was tasked with sculpting the future of the state.
“I have not been parachuted from the top. I have fought from the front when Amarinder Singh was harassing our leaders,” he says. He’s referring to the string of cases that the previous Congress government led by Amarinder Singh had slapped against him and his parents in 2003 (the father-son duo spent 15 days in jail) and several Akali leaders. “The party saw my performance as a leader and that is why it has chosen me as president.”
The elevation was only a matter of time. As the only son (he has a sister), Badal perhaps always knew he would have to don his father’s mantle some day. After all, the entire family — including small children — always had to be around during elections.
After school — first in Badal village, then in a missionary school in Bhatinda and then Lawrence School, Sanawar — Badal studied economics at Punjab University, Chandigarh, and got a postgraduate degree in the subject. He then winged his way to the US to get a business administration degree and work there for a while. He returned in the late 1980s and joined politics formally in 1991. He’s been a Lok Sabha member thrice, minister of state for industry at the Centre briefly during the National Democratic Alliance government and a Rajya Sabha member.
“You’re pushed into it. It’s like a river, you just flow with it,” he says. “It’s a brand. They (the supporters) like us as a family, so they want the next generation to come in.”
Is that all that there is to his career — the family brand name? No, he says. “The family name gives you only the first opportunity. After that it is all about performance. Not all politicians’ sons are successful.”
His main strength, he says, is his clear focus — a legacy of his training as a skeet and trap shooter (a sport involving shooting at clay pigeons and moving targets) and his business management degree from California State University. “Today, you don’t need money, you need ideas. If you have ideas, the money will come running. We thought big and that is why we have achieved big.”
There’s no stopping him as he starts reeling out a list of his government’s initiatives — the 10,000mw of power projects under construction, the investment in water and sewage projects, a slew of e-governance projects that will cut out the need for people to visit government offices for half the services they currently do. “We have excelled in every sector. I am not saying we have completely solved all of Punjab’s problems. But we have put the state on the right track.”
But not its finances, I can’t help butting in. After all, there is no denying that Punjab’s exchequer isn’t in a very healthy state, thanks to wasteful spending on sops and freebies. Punjab’s Rs 69,000 crore-debt accounts for 34 per cent of its income.
He gives me a sharp look and then quickly starts spewing out figures. Debt has gone up a bit, he admits, but revenue has doubled. The five years of the Akali Dal government have seen revenue collections rise to Rs 76,000 crore from Rs 34,000 crore during the Congress rule. “If you have Rs 100 in your pocket and have to pay Rs 50, then you are tense. If you have Rs 500, there is no more tension. This is what we have done.”
Much of this, he says, has been achieved through governance reforms — increased computerisation, introduction of reporting systems, and weekly and monthly performance reviews. “The same officers who were there earlier are performing much better.” He’s been known to have been brusque with officials in his initial days, though he’s said to have mellowed of late. “I’m never brusque,” he retorts, “I’m very clear about what we want. If the bureaucracy knows that you have a clear vision and that you know how to achieve it, they are part of it. They also need a direction.”
This isn’t the cocky young man who had, in a 1998 interview, told a journalist he was confident of winning the Faridkot Lok Sabha seat because he was young and handsome — and the ladies would vote for him. “I can still say that,” he laughs. “I have just put on a little bit more weight,” he pats his obvious paunch, “and my hair is greying. But some of them like grey.”
Won’t the charges of corruption and political vendetta levelled by the Congress queer the pitch?
They have not been able to prove a single charge of corruption, he counters. He has, he says, asked the Congress for a list of 30,000 cases which it claims have been filed against his party workers. But the party hasn’t given him even 30 cases of undue harassment. “Some people are used to playing to the gallery,” he sneers, referring to bête noire Amarinder Singh, former chief minister.
The Congress, he holds, can only talk about 30,000 cases for it has no other issues. “Has he ever said we have done anything wrong in tenders, or in recruitment, or that there is no development or that we have not added any infrastructure? Nothing. Because he cannot.” I try to say Singh is making those allegations, but am not able to interrupt.
He himself, Badal claims, has never criticised Amarinder Singh personally. “People try to instigate me, but I have avoided doing so. Why base my regime on criticising somebody? He is not my agenda. My agenda is the people of Punjab and the state.”
Unlike many of his contemporaries in politics, Badal isn’t too fond of online social networking. There is a Twitter account that has all of nine tweets. There’s also a fan page on Facebook. He calls himself a man of the street and the masses. “Look at me. I have already done five meetings and will continue till 1am. Tomorrow morning, the grind starts again (he sleeps only around 2am and is up again by 7am, I am told). Where is the time to Tweet and Facebook?”
He tries to share whatever little time he gets to himself with his family. Wife Harsimrat, a member of Parliament, two teenage daughters and a 10-year-old son, live in Delhi where the children study. He takes them out to movies when he can, and every month he makes sure he holidays with them for at least two or three days. Some of these vacations are in foreign lands, giving his critics another handle to have a go at him. “It is my money, my family. Why should anyone object? I have a responsibility to them.”
Outside the glass doors of the room, I can see the number of visitors swelling. Considering I was almost not getting this interview, I know I shouldn’t push my luck too far. Even before I’ve left the room, two party leaders enter. And Sukhbir Singh Badal is immersed in the sixth meeting of the day. Or is it seventh? He’s certainly not counting.