Speaking of Rahul Gandhi

COMPARISONS are odious and should be avoided as far as possible but when one beckons you to say something, it is difficult to turn away. I speak of a recent conversation (in fact two) that featured Rahul Gandhi speaking in London and the famous Corpus Christi College, Cambridge. Conducting the second interview was a bright young woman who teaches history there and who has a Chandigarh connection. Shruti Kapila is the daughter of the late Ramesh Kapila, a journalist with The Indian Express, and Madhu, who wrote on music events, who passed away a few months ago. Shruti was here recently, promoting a first-rate book she has recently written titled Violent Fraternity: Indian Political Thought in the Global Age, when she shared the stage with Romila Thapar, the grand dame of historiography.

So more out of curiosity than anything else, I heard the conversation between Rahul Gandhi and her because I always felt that the ‘pappu’ moniker bestowed on him by the bhakts was unfair. Those who know him personally have often said he is not just a well-mannered liberal but also has a mind of his own and speaks passionately about the issues that need to be debated in our times.

After the initial ‘settling down’ noises, Shruti encouraged him to talk about how his party, when it came to power, wished to bring about change. Inanities were exchanged and then came the bombshell. She asked him how he felt about the tension between violence and non-violence and how he could reconcile the two. Rahul Gandhi appeared completely thrown by this fairly straightforward query. After a long pause, when a few jeering claps were heard from the audience, he said, ‘The first word that comes to mind is forgiveness.’ Kapila then nudged him towards Gandhiji but he could just not elaborate on his puzzling answer. This left many, myself included, with the feeling that he was probably given a set of questions beforehand and had prepared answers to those but Kapila’s odd lob completely foxed him. A similar feeling had been engendered in that infamous interview with Arnab Goswami many years ago, when he could only talk of meeting a Mrs Kalawati in a hut in UP and brought her name in so many times that it became a hilarious meme later.

Let us face it, Rahul Gandhi is no orator: his communication in Hindi or English is only marginally better than his late father’s who once said, ‘Hum jeetenge ya losenge…’, while delivering an election speech. Now it is no one’s case that you must speak shuddh English or Hindi, but to expose oneself to ridicule is quite another matter, especially if you see yourself as an alternative to a man who is an inspired orator. It is no wonder that Modi, despite his halting English and Gujju-accented Hindi, has his listeners hanging on his words. If he uses a teleprompter, so have many leaders (including Barak Obama), it is probably wiser than having a serious moment in the middle of a rousing bhashan.

Public speaking is an art and if you are not a natural, there is no harm in seeking professional help. King George VI (the present Queen’s father) had a stutter that was tackled and a film was made about this (The King’s Speech, starring Colin Firth). Mrs Thatcher took extensive lessons from speech therapists and groomed her look (with the signature hairdo and handbag) as a personal style feature. Several actors and film personalities have personal aides who watch their performances to fix any lacuna. So there is no harm if Rahul Gandhi were to take time off and work on the delivery of his speeches. His sister, on the other hand, as several observers have commented, is a natural. She interacts joyfully with her audience and her fluency in Hindustani is very heart-warming.

Sadly, our dynasts have neglected their homework. Their speeches often reveal how unaware they are of popular issues and led by their team of data crunchers and sycophants, pay a heavy price for their lack of depth. In contrast are the fiery speech-givers (Mamata Banerjee, Mahua Moitra, to name just two from outside the Hindi belt) who can rouse the dead. Where they score is also that they speak in the language of their state. There is no getting away from the fact that one has to make an effort to learn local languages. Think of Sushma Swaraj who picked up enough Kannada to address her constituency in Karnataka and compare her with Rahul, who has not been known for his proficiency in Malayalam. Sadly, he is no Naveen Patnaik, who despite his discomfort with Odiya, stills holds sway over his state.

Arvind Kejriwal fought an election in Punjab (a fiercely chauvinistic state where language is concerned) without knowing Punjabi, leave alone the Gurmukhi script, but his party members spoke clever idiomatic Punjabi. The bottomline then is: learn the language of the state you wish to represent. Not only will this provide you with the political heft that is needed but it will allow you to enter the vocabulary of popular imagination. Until you can dream in a language other than English, life will be tough.

Mahatma Gandhi taught his followers the power of the vernacular idiom and all his England-returned admirers benefitted by practising it fervently.