Hazaribagh, April 13: Yashwant Sinha sits on the charpoy that has been laid out for him under a tree. Garlanding rituals over, he outlines his idea about vikas committees that would ensure the villagers got what they wanted, be it a well, a road link or a hara or pila card that would make them beneficiaries of various government welfare schemes.
A far cry from the high tables of Bonn and Frankfurt, where he served on diplomatic assignments in the ’70s before finally donning the mantle of a Union finance minister, the BJP stalwart has shed his intellectual baggage and plunged headlong to regain his home seat of Hazaribagh. He has been at it since December ’08, determined to undo his loss to the combined might of the UPA that saw the CPI’s Bhuvaneshwar Mehta catapulted to Parliament.
At Char Mile village in Barhi, 40 km away from his sprawling, tree-lined farmhouse teaming with partymen and three healthy cows at the cowshed, Jabua Devi’s grouse is basic. “We need a road desperately. What we have is so bad that even the dead fall off while we carry them to the ghat.” But before she can finish, her neighbour talks of bijli and how it’s still a dream, despite the “bidhayak”’s promise — a reference to Mehta, who they claim, hasn’t visited them ever.
Yashwant hears them patiently, but refrains from promises. Save a polite, “I will try my best”, he gets ready for the next stop. In his red SUV, a quick drink of coconut water, he shares a lesson learnt the hard way. “No matter what you do, what role you play as minister, it’s always about the local naali that hasn’t been cleaned.”
Indeed, if Hazaribagh has seen any good, be it a railway link, a road that linked the town to the state’s coal belt, Yashwant is the man credited for it. “Unfortunately, we ministers have it bad,” he explains in his trademark professor’s tone. “Neither can we be like the MPs who have all the time to spend in their constituencies nor are we ‘big leaders’ like an Advani or a Sonia who will win anyway.”
He has an explanation for his 2004 loss. “My preoccupation with matters of the state and an ill-equipped party organisation.”
This time the ex-minister’s batteries look fully charged. He hits the road early. A meal of chura and curd, coconut water on the road and lunch of rice, dal, sabji at a partyman’s house is all it takes to keep him going. It helps that wife Nilima is part of his campaign as always, and this time, son Sumant, who lives in Boston, and daughter Sharmila Kanth have joined him.
Off GT Road is village Padarma, another 20 km from Char Mile. And by the time Yashwant’s entourage reaches there, what was a three-car convoy at the start, is being escorted by motorcycle brigade of hundreds of young men — many of whom he knows by name — draped in saffron and green scarves.
There, Yashwant elaborates his plan again. “My booth committees will become vikas committees. If I win, they will convene meetings of gram sabhas to chalk out the village’s priorities.”
Having started off as a bureaucrat, it’s difficult for Yashwant not to approach a problem systematically. And that’s the method he is trying to inject in this madness.
Who is his primary rival? Mehta or the Congress’s royal scion and Rahul Gandhi’s schoolmate Saurabh Narayan Shukla? The JVM’s B.K. Jaiswal, a liquor baron, is eyeing the BJP vote too. “The minority vote will determine that,” says Yashwant.
Until that decision filters in, the former minister has an edge.
A far cry from the high tables of Bonn and Frankfurt, where he served on diplomatic assignments in the ’70s before finally donning the mantle of a Union finance minister, the BJP stalwart has shed his intellectual baggage and plunged headlong to regain his home seat of Hazaribagh. He has been at it since December ’08, determined to undo his loss to the combined might of the UPA that saw the CPI’s Bhuvaneshwar Mehta catapulted to Parliament.
At Char Mile village in Barhi, 40 km away from his sprawling, tree-lined farmhouse teaming with partymen and three healthy cows at the cowshed, Jabua Devi’s grouse is basic. “We need a road desperately. What we have is so bad that even the dead fall off while we carry them to the ghat.” But before she can finish, her neighbour talks of bijli and how it’s still a dream, despite the “bidhayak”’s promise — a reference to Mehta, who they claim, hasn’t visited them ever.
Yashwant hears them patiently, but refrains from promises. Save a polite, “I will try my best”, he gets ready for the next stop. In his red SUV, a quick drink of coconut water, he shares a lesson learnt the hard way. “No matter what you do, what role you play as minister, it’s always about the local naali that hasn’t been cleaned.”
Indeed, if Hazaribagh has seen any good, be it a railway link, a road that linked the town to the state’s coal belt, Yashwant is the man credited for it. “Unfortunately, we ministers have it bad,” he explains in his trademark professor’s tone. “Neither can we be like the MPs who have all the time to spend in their constituencies nor are we ‘big leaders’ like an Advani or a Sonia who will win anyway.”
He has an explanation for his 2004 loss. “My preoccupation with matters of the state and an ill-equipped party organisation.”
This time the ex-minister’s batteries look fully charged. He hits the road early. A meal of chura and curd, coconut water on the road and lunch of rice, dal, sabji at a partyman’s house is all it takes to keep him going. It helps that wife Nilima is part of his campaign as always, and this time, son Sumant, who lives in Boston, and daughter Sharmila Kanth have joined him.
Off GT Road is village Padarma, another 20 km from Char Mile. And by the time Yashwant’s entourage reaches there, what was a three-car convoy at the start, is being escorted by motorcycle brigade of hundreds of young men — many of whom he knows by name — draped in saffron and green scarves.
There, Yashwant elaborates his plan again. “My booth committees will become vikas committees. If I win, they will convene meetings of gram sabhas to chalk out the village’s priorities.”
Having started off as a bureaucrat, it’s difficult for Yashwant not to approach a problem systematically. And that’s the method he is trying to inject in this madness.
Who is his primary rival? Mehta or the Congress’s royal scion and Rahul Gandhi’s schoolmate Saurabh Narayan Shukla? The JVM’s B.K. Jaiswal, a liquor baron, is eyeing the BJP vote too. “The minority vote will determine that,” says Yashwant.
Until that decision filters in, the former minister has an edge.
