A festival of resistance

Sickular Libtard

Kicked off in Kanyakumari in September, the Bharat Jodo Yatra (BJY) is now pausing at Delhi, shortly to resume its northward journey. Having first jeered at it and then become petulant, the BJP is now trying to have it suspended—that’s a compliment, BJP-style. It was derided as Rahul Gandhi’s flight of fancy, but the contrails seem real enough.

You can gripe about the shortcomings and ambiguities of the BJY ad nauseum. It’s too political, not political enough, it’s too long or too short, too early, too late, too expensive, too cheap. It may or may not bear any electoral fruit. But three months of audiovisuals filtering out from the event, mostly via social media, are upsetting the BJP’s carefully constructed portrait of Rahul Gandhi as an entitled, brainless dilettante, the Congress as a nothing force, and the people of India as unanimous in their support of Prime Minister Modi.

And that has been the point—the Bharat Jodo Yatra is a giant, festive, gritty sidestep. It sidesteps the Parliament drown-out, the media blackout, the BJP’s one-two jabs of personality cult and character assassination, the tired ‘Pappu’ tag, and the narrative that this Prime Minister is a colossus to whom there’s no opposition. And it does it in a smiley, dance-y way.

I walked with the BJY in Rajasthan for a couple of days, both out of curiosity and because the citizen in me wanted to. The idea sits well with me—an old-school form of non-violent resistance and mobilisation, in the service of liberty and social harmony, and spotlighting issues that the government wants to distort or suppress. In measuring the length of India footstep by footstep, in the throngs of people who turn up to watch or participate, in its availability to the citizenry, in its rhetoric, in its inclusiveness and quite amazing organisation, the Yatra is neither protest nor rally, yet it is both. It’s a secular pilgrimage, driven by ideology and physical challenge.

And it’s fun. It pulls together people of all walks of life, for all sorts of reasons, from the party worker to the concerned citizen, and channels a sense of cohort and camaraderie that isn’t usually available and has felt out of reach for too long. There’s much conversation and laughter, the camps feature ball games and singalongs. Given the rigours of the march—after a measly two 4.30 am starts and a couple of dozen kilometres, I was exhausted, and one hamstring was toast—everyone is in a pretty good mood.

The whole thing plays to Rahul Gandhi’s strengths. It’s hard to think of anyone else with the combination of clout, fitness, vocalness and personal courage required to pull off such a thing. He’s physical with the crowds, hugging, holding hands, and joking with men, women, children, celebrities and commoners, endlessly energetic, disciplined, and setting a serious pace. His affection is a welcome contrast to the remote imperiousness of the PM—and only someone confident in their masculinity has no problem talking about opening a shop of love in the bazaar of hate. It’s much harder to paint a committed, fit, smiling, approachable guy who takes questions at regular press conferences along the way, as an entitled brat.

It’s anyone’s guess what, if anything, the Bharat Jodo Yatra will yield. But I’d say it’s worth seeing, worth walking with, and worth doing. Equality and social harmony between all Indians is not a message you can argue with—it’s a strong idea, with a strong historical whiff, and hopefully a stronger future.