In Haryana, we couldn't find decent chai. The tea we were served at the district court and the dhabas were sweet, milky variety. And we couldn't refuse. So, by the time we finished with the interviews, we were stuffed with the chai that locals descibed as "takatwar". And then, at a dhaba we stopped to file the story, we had them make our kind of chai and they were pretty amused.
"That is no tea," the guy said. "That's boiled water."
When my editor told me he wanted me to go to Hisar to track down Relu Ram Punia's surviving family members, we thought Hisar was just two-and-a-half hours away. As it turned out, it was almost a five-hour drive and then getting to Litani took another hour. When we saw the house where the daughter killed eight members of her family and is now on death row in the Ambala Central Jail, we could feel the chill. It was an eerie feeling.
An edited verion of the article appeared in the Indian Express on May 31, 2009.
Chinki Sinha
Hisar, May 30, 2009
From a distance of 400 meters, from where the road cuts into the narrow Litani bend, the Punia Farmhouse looms large, perhaps the only thing you could see for miles.
This is the dream house that former MLA Renu Lal Punia built for himself. He wanted to retire there, see from the terrace the sprawling 100 acres of farmland that he had bought with all the money he made in the oil business, though illegally.
And this is the same kothi where he was beaten to death along with seven other family members by his own daughter Sonia and son-in-law Sanjeev on the night of August 24, 2001.
Now grass grows tall in the lawns, the chandeliers inside the house have layers of dust on them as if someone forgot to switch them on in years, the swimming pool has no water, and the paint is peeling off the walls. It’s the same kothi that his daughter, who Punia named after his favourite politician Sonia Gandhi, wanted, and killed for. She and her husband killed them one by one, at first sneaking on the terrace where Renu Lal slept, then killing the mother, and then others. The murders went on for hours, locals said.
Except for the ground floor, the other parts of the house are seldom used now. The rooms, where the brutal killings took place eight years ago, are latched.
Ram Singh Punia, who lives here now with his son and nephews, didn’t repaint the house. Nor did he take down the pictures of Lokesh, the one-and-a-half year old grandson, who too was clubbed to death while he slept with his grandmother on that night.
“It is like a graveyard,” he said. “She (Sonia) turned it into one. She wanted this house. Renu Lal didn’t want to give it to her.”
As he opened the room where Shakuntala, the daughter-in-law, was murdered with her two daughters Shivani and Preeti by the same iron rod, Jitender Singh Punia stopped by the door, reluctant. A faint smell - that of old clothes, of old pictures and of dried, rotten blood - lingered in the room. Yes, the bedcover that was soaked in blood when the three were killed as they slept on that August night lay on the floor, bundled. The smell was the strongest there, perhaps it emanated from the crumpled covers.
For the nephew, who was in Class X the year the murders send shockwaves around the region and made headlines, living in the same house is like inhabiting a graveyard. Memories and visages of the past do not leave you so soon, he said.
On the ceiling of the room, blood stains are still visible. On the bed, amid thousand other little things that Lokesh played with, a soft toy stands out.
“We can’t forget it. Sometimes, a little noise here and there, in the middle of the night, scares us,” he said.
On the winding steps, Mala, the domestic help, stood, watching.
“I had been with the family for years. That year, I had taken off. After the murders, I was scared of coming here for almost a year,” she said. “Imagine ... eight murders ... all in one night.”
For three years after the gruesome murders, the house, famous in the parts for its stylish architecture, complete with a ramp where you could drive a car on to the first floor terrace, was closed. When it was opened in 2004, Ram Singh Punia, the only surviving brother, moved in. They threw out the rotting furniture on the ground floor and burnt all of Sonia’s possessions, including her pictures. They called it purging.
The wayward daughter, who married the man of her choice, and who smoked and drank whiskey and beer, is only present in the house through others, through what she did on the night of August 24.
On a table in the hallway on the first floor, photographs of Renu Lal Punia, his second wife Krishna, son Sunil, his wife Shakuntala, and their three children, and Sonia’s sister Pammi, who were murdered in cold blood, with a toplink Sonia picked up from the garage on that night when the servants slept outside, and the crackers burst, to drown the shouts of those who were being clubbed to death by the daughter of the house, are stacked. Sonia’s pictures were disposed off long ago.
“She took away everything from us,” Ram Singh Punia said. “We have kept nothing of hes. She has left us nothing that belonged to us.”
The milkman had come running to Ram Singh Punia’s house, around three kilometres away from the kothi, panting, out of breath on the morning on August 25. When nobody had responded to the knocks, he had ventured inside the house. On the first floor, he saw blood on the floor. He didn’t wait. The chowkidar Amar Singh, a key witness who also filed the FIR with the police, too had seen the blood splattered on the floor before he rushed to the get the police.
When Punia and his elder son Nonia Singh rushed to the kothi, around 30 people from the area had already assembled. Police was there, too.
Sonia too was there, frothing at the mouth, a suicidal note in hand. She claimed she had killed her father because he didn’t love her. After all she was a stepdaughter.
“We would have killed Sonia if we would have known. But she was already in custody,” Nonia Singh said. “She came with her husband Sanjeev to kill them. Then she dropped off Sanjeev and he caught a bus to Saharanpur.”
Ram Singh had met his brother the day before he was murdered. They had talked about work, and other usual things. Of course, none of them knew.
For many months, the Punia deaths were the talk of the town. Eight years later, villagers in Hansi, 87 kilometers away, still remember the killings and are curious to know what happened to Soina, who is lodged in the Ambala Jail, waiting for the President’s decision on her letter.
“In our parts, we love our daughters. Then a daughter does this and other girls start to threaten their families that if they don’t get share in the property, Renu Lal episode would be repeated. It set such a bad example. How can we trust daughters now?,” Ram Singh Punia said. “She should be hanged. We need to show them all that bad deeds don’t go unpunished.”
Sonia was the daughter of Renu Lal Punia’s second wife Krishna, who he married after his first wife Om Devi died. He had a son with Om Devi. Krishna had two daughters – Sonia and Pammi.
Family members said Renu Lal loved Sonia but when she married Sanjeev who she met on one of her sports trips outside the city, he was upset. Sonia kept demanding money from her father, which he obliged at first, but then as his business suffered, he had to say no to Sonia.
The tipping point reached when Sonia asked for the Punia Farmhouse, Ram Singh said.
“Most of this stuff is in Sonia’s confessions, too,” he said. “As family, we too know.”
Allegedly Sonia and her mother Krishna didn’t want Sunil to inherit all of Renu Lal’s property, pegged at crores of rupees, including two houses in Delhi and Faridabad.
They had even filed a court case against Punia, Lal Bahadur Khowal, who knows the family well and even fought the case with the prosecutor SK Pandhir in the high court, said.
It was Khowal’s first case as a legal assistant Pandhir, who took up the case when the Panchayat urged him to get the eight victims justice.
Sonia had been claiming she was not of sane mind, yet another one of her ploys, Pandhir said.
The Punia murders was perhaps the toughest case because it was based on circumstantial evidence and all loopholes had to be covered. They had more than 109 witnesses and they examined 66 of those. The files too ran in hundreds of pages, Pandhir recalled.
“We had clinching arguments that why Pammi was called from her hostel that night. Only a family member could do it and Sonia brought her home that night. The chowkidar had seen them both come in,” he said. “It was an emotional case. Sonia had killed the suckling child of Sunil.”
Pandhir had first anticipated that the court might extend a life sentence to Sonia because Sonia had a young son.
“But we countered it by saying Shaunktala too had a suckling baby. Ek baccha ko teen bacche se kata,” he said. “And then she was a female who killed three other females.”
For Khowal, who argued the case in the Supreme Court for almost 17 days that it went on for, it was the case that made him the lawyer he is today.
“It was an unusual case, a high-profile one, one that was charged with too much drama,” he said. “No, Sonia wasn’t schizophrenic as she pretended. She was weird and she was wild.”
On trial days, Sonia would come to the court decked up in matching salwar kurtas and jewelry, her lips painted red with lipstick, and she would laugh, Pandhir said.
“As a prosecutor, I never met her. But I saw her. She was beautiful. But looking at her, you wouldn’t know she was accused of murdering her own father. She laughed and smiled,” Pandhir said.
Sonia had left her son at Saharanpur where her in-laws lived and had come that night to Litani to celebrate Lokesh, the one-and-a-half year old grandson’s birthday, with crackers.
“It was all planned. Why would she leave her son otherwise,” Khowal said.
Sonia was just out of school when she married Sanjeev. A beautiful woman, who trained in Judo and Taekwondo, Sonia was known in the town for her wild ways. In fact, when she was in jail in Hisar, she picked up fights with other inmates. A case was booked against her, too, the lawyers said.
Now that Sonia has written to the President asking her to expedite her death, the lawyers are happy. So is Ram Singh, who doesn’t want to talk about the murders anymore. It is enough living in the tomb, he said.
“All I want is that she should be hanged for what she did,” he said. “I lost my brother. The village and all of us want justice. It has been eight long years.”
The house, where death descended one night when a daughter struck her own, remains in a limbo. There are five dogs, but they too are silent as the family.
The cobwebs hang in the rooms that once housed the dead.
In the foyer, servants loiter around. Inside the main hall, family members sit and chat. But nobody takes the staircase to the first and the second floors where Sonia had once roamed, iron rod in hand.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Rampur's Azam Khan calls the shots on polling day
Azam Khan changed poll equations in Rampur, which shot to fame after the Samajwadi Party's Muslim leader rebelled against the induction of Kalyan Singh into the party. When I toured the city, people shouted Azam Khan's name, called him the "true leader" and that they would teach Mulayam Singh a lesson for sidelining Azam Khan.
When I met Azam Khan in his office on election day, he seemed to be in control, happily giving interviews. He had already caused damage to Jayaprada so much so that she never entered the city limits.
An edited version of the article appeared in the Indian Express on May 14, 2009.
Chinki Sinha
Rampur, May 13, 2009
In Rampur, Azam Khan, the rebel leader, called the shots on polling day.
As he sat in his office giving interviews to the media, supporters walked past his house chanting “Azam Khan ki baat par, mohar lagegi haath par.”
No pretensions. No fear. After all they were only showing their allegiance to their leader.
But the rebel leader and the Muslim face of Samajwadi Party only smiled, dismissing speculations that he would quit and join Congress. No, he wasn’t leaving the party he had founded. He was just upset over the betrayal, he said.
But his anger, which he hid under his calm demeanour, calling Jayaprada a senior leader, spilled over on to the streets, where young and old, congregated at street corners, at the chai stalls, and talked about how Azam Khan, their true leader, had been sidelined. And they would not take the betrayal easy.
And as they showed the ink mark on their fingers, they also said how they vindicated themselves by voting for the Congress, because Mulayam Singh must know that it wasn’t about the party ideology, or about the star factor in Rampur, it was all about their Muslim leader, who had done so much for them, and now was betrayed by his own friends.
“We aren’t Congresswadi or Samajwadi. We are Azamwadi. Azam Khan is the poor people’s saviour,” Faraz Khan, a local, said. “How can you insult out own leader on his turf? We will not tolerate it. Kalyan Singh is a murderer, he demolished the house of Allah.”
Another local, Irfan Khan, said they voted for Jayaprada because Azam Khan was with her.
"She is an actress. She should go back to that," he said. "We only tolerated her because of Azam Khan."
Inside his office, surrounded by the television crew, and party workers, Khan looked as if he was in control. He adjusted his hair often, gestured quite a bit but never raised his voice once. Over the phone, he chided his supporters for taking too many chai and cigarette breaks.
“You should get the people to vote,” he said.
All day, he kept to his house, with police vans parked outside, fielding questions. A bronze-colored cycle, the SP’s election symbol, lied on the floor, near his legs rested.
“I am just upset. But I am not leaving the party. Par man nahi lag raha hai ab,” he said. “They have called me names, they asked for my house arrest. What wrong did I do?”
Khan said his issue was with the party ideology. When Mulayam Singh took Kalyan Singh in, that’s when the fissures started to erupt. It was about his own faith, and his community’s sentiments.
“I have done a lot for the party. Twenty-five years I have worked for it and now they ban me from campaigning,” Khan said, his eyes scanning the room, straying outside the window, taking in the scene on the narrow street outside his office.
“No, I haven’t asked anyone to vote for the Congress. I am sitting here. How can I?,” Khan said. “But how can we vote for Kalyan?”
And while he sat, and played down his role, in Rampur on Wednesday, the poll equations had changed.
SP candidate Jayaprada toured the outskirts, remaining on the fringes of the town, asking her supporters to stand by her, using the glamour to the hilt, and evoking sympathy. But like the lipstick on her lips towards the evening, her appeal as a film star had sort of faded.
The polarization of votes in Rampur on religious lines
In 2004, Azam Khan and Jayaprada campaigned together in an open jeep. Emotions ran high then. Khan was the one who introduced Jayaprada to the town, and all welcomed her, even voted her to power. Extravagant road shows, and movie screenings of old Jayaprada’s hits like Sharabi were part of the strategy. People still remember those days when crowds lined the streets to have a glimpse of the famous star. But that was five years ago.
So much stands changed now.
This time around, theatres didn’t run Jayaprada’s films.
This time around, Azam Khan didn’t pose for the shutterbugs with her.
This time around, she was fighting alone to keep her seat, desperate and tired. And this time, they were pitched in a battle. Jayaprada referred to Khan as her rakhi brother, perhaps trying to undo the wrong. But Khan called her a “guest”, indicating she was an outsider.
In Western Uttar Pradesh, the elections have always been fought on caste and religion lines. But the fissures along the religious lines were never so apparent as on Wednesday. The voter turnout was about 52 percent.
As the Muslims united, hurt at their leader’s betrayal, angered by the induction of Kalyan Singh, the Hindus mobilized too. Much of the BJP votes went to Jayaprada. It didn’t remain an issue of candidates, or parties, or local problems. On the polling day, it was all about Hindu and Muslim votes even though many locals didn’t want it to go that way.
In Milak, minutes before Jayaprada’s cavalcade arrived, Matin Nawaz ruminated over the sad reality of the elections in Rampur.
There are more than 13 lakh voters in the five constituencies that make up the Rampur Lok Sabha seat. Incidentally, Rampur also has the largest percent of Muslim voters – about 55 percent as against the 45 percent Hindus and Sikhs combined - in the whole of Uttar Pradesh, which is also why Azam Khan can tilt equations.
“Now, when Azam Khan has the Muslim vote, the Hindus too got polarized. We don’t like it but it is the reality,” Nawaz said. “Last time, they played her songs. This time Azam Khan didn’t give her the naulakha.”
Across the street, Rakesh Kumar Goswami, starined his neck to catch a glimpse of the 1970-80s Bollywood star.
“Hindu will vote for the cycle,” he said. “I am a BJP supporter but when BJP has no chance here and when the fight is between SP and Congress, we will support Jayaprada.”
But in his car, Mukhtar Abbas Naqvi, was fuming.
“Jayaprada is a terrorist,” he roared, as his SUV rolled out of sight.
And all this while, Khan sat in his office, going out to cast his vote only an hour before the polling closed.
Meanwhile the ladies of Rampur kept to their turfs, never venturing into the marked territory of the other. Only Azam Khan crossed over.
When I met Azam Khan in his office on election day, he seemed to be in control, happily giving interviews. He had already caused damage to Jayaprada so much so that she never entered the city limits.
An edited version of the article appeared in the Indian Express on May 14, 2009.
Chinki Sinha
Rampur, May 13, 2009
In Rampur, Azam Khan, the rebel leader, called the shots on polling day.
As he sat in his office giving interviews to the media, supporters walked past his house chanting “Azam Khan ki baat par, mohar lagegi haath par.”
No pretensions. No fear. After all they were only showing their allegiance to their leader.
But the rebel leader and the Muslim face of Samajwadi Party only smiled, dismissing speculations that he would quit and join Congress. No, he wasn’t leaving the party he had founded. He was just upset over the betrayal, he said.
But his anger, which he hid under his calm demeanour, calling Jayaprada a senior leader, spilled over on to the streets, where young and old, congregated at street corners, at the chai stalls, and talked about how Azam Khan, their true leader, had been sidelined. And they would not take the betrayal easy.
And as they showed the ink mark on their fingers, they also said how they vindicated themselves by voting for the Congress, because Mulayam Singh must know that it wasn’t about the party ideology, or about the star factor in Rampur, it was all about their Muslim leader, who had done so much for them, and now was betrayed by his own friends.
“We aren’t Congresswadi or Samajwadi. We are Azamwadi. Azam Khan is the poor people’s saviour,” Faraz Khan, a local, said. “How can you insult out own leader on his turf? We will not tolerate it. Kalyan Singh is a murderer, he demolished the house of Allah.”
Another local, Irfan Khan, said they voted for Jayaprada because Azam Khan was with her.
"She is an actress. She should go back to that," he said. "We only tolerated her because of Azam Khan."
Inside his office, surrounded by the television crew, and party workers, Khan looked as if he was in control. He adjusted his hair often, gestured quite a bit but never raised his voice once. Over the phone, he chided his supporters for taking too many chai and cigarette breaks.
“You should get the people to vote,” he said.
All day, he kept to his house, with police vans parked outside, fielding questions. A bronze-colored cycle, the SP’s election symbol, lied on the floor, near his legs rested.
“I am just upset. But I am not leaving the party. Par man nahi lag raha hai ab,” he said. “They have called me names, they asked for my house arrest. What wrong did I do?”
Khan said his issue was with the party ideology. When Mulayam Singh took Kalyan Singh in, that’s when the fissures started to erupt. It was about his own faith, and his community’s sentiments.
“I have done a lot for the party. Twenty-five years I have worked for it and now they ban me from campaigning,” Khan said, his eyes scanning the room, straying outside the window, taking in the scene on the narrow street outside his office.
“No, I haven’t asked anyone to vote for the Congress. I am sitting here. How can I?,” Khan said. “But how can we vote for Kalyan?”
And while he sat, and played down his role, in Rampur on Wednesday, the poll equations had changed.
SP candidate Jayaprada toured the outskirts, remaining on the fringes of the town, asking her supporters to stand by her, using the glamour to the hilt, and evoking sympathy. But like the lipstick on her lips towards the evening, her appeal as a film star had sort of faded.
The polarization of votes in Rampur on religious lines
In 2004, Azam Khan and Jayaprada campaigned together in an open jeep. Emotions ran high then. Khan was the one who introduced Jayaprada to the town, and all welcomed her, even voted her to power. Extravagant road shows, and movie screenings of old Jayaprada’s hits like Sharabi were part of the strategy. People still remember those days when crowds lined the streets to have a glimpse of the famous star. But that was five years ago.
So much stands changed now.
This time around, theatres didn’t run Jayaprada’s films.
This time around, Azam Khan didn’t pose for the shutterbugs with her.
This time around, she was fighting alone to keep her seat, desperate and tired. And this time, they were pitched in a battle. Jayaprada referred to Khan as her rakhi brother, perhaps trying to undo the wrong. But Khan called her a “guest”, indicating she was an outsider.
In Western Uttar Pradesh, the elections have always been fought on caste and religion lines. But the fissures along the religious lines were never so apparent as on Wednesday. The voter turnout was about 52 percent.
As the Muslims united, hurt at their leader’s betrayal, angered by the induction of Kalyan Singh, the Hindus mobilized too. Much of the BJP votes went to Jayaprada. It didn’t remain an issue of candidates, or parties, or local problems. On the polling day, it was all about Hindu and Muslim votes even though many locals didn’t want it to go that way.
In Milak, minutes before Jayaprada’s cavalcade arrived, Matin Nawaz ruminated over the sad reality of the elections in Rampur.
There are more than 13 lakh voters in the five constituencies that make up the Rampur Lok Sabha seat. Incidentally, Rampur also has the largest percent of Muslim voters – about 55 percent as against the 45 percent Hindus and Sikhs combined - in the whole of Uttar Pradesh, which is also why Azam Khan can tilt equations.
“Now, when Azam Khan has the Muslim vote, the Hindus too got polarized. We don’t like it but it is the reality,” Nawaz said. “Last time, they played her songs. This time Azam Khan didn’t give her the naulakha.”
Across the street, Rakesh Kumar Goswami, starined his neck to catch a glimpse of the 1970-80s Bollywood star.
“Hindu will vote for the cycle,” he said. “I am a BJP supporter but when BJP has no chance here and when the fight is between SP and Congress, we will support Jayaprada.”
But in his car, Mukhtar Abbas Naqvi, was fuming.
“Jayaprada is a terrorist,” he roared, as his SUV rolled out of sight.
And all this while, Khan sat in his office, going out to cast his vote only an hour before the polling closed.
Meanwhile the ladies of Rampur kept to their turfs, never venturing into the marked territory of the other. Only Azam Khan crossed over.
The tale of two women of Rampur
We left for Rampur in Western Uttar Pradesh at 9 p.m. on May 12, traveling over bumpy, dusty roads and reached at around 2:30 a.m. and checked into a hotel, a shady one, and our only option. All others were booked to capacity.
At 7 a.m., we were up and trailing the two women through the narrow alleys and into the interiors of the constituency. Tiring but fun. The edited version appeared in the Indian Express on May 14, 2009.
Chinki Sinha
Rampur, May 13, 2009
On Wednesday, the two ladies of Rampur never crossed each other’s paths.
Seventy-year-old Begum Noor Bano, the Congress candidate, drove around the city, halting and rolling down her silver Tata Safari’s windows often to talk to people, sometimes getting off the car, splendid in her white saree, her diamonds and pearls glittering, and walked to the polling booths as people thronged to see her.
“I have never seen the Begum. I have lived here all my life,” Praveen Chaurasia, a resident of Kaith Wali Masjid, said, sarcasm evident in his voice. “But she lives in palaces. She doesn’t need to come here.”
But the Begum, unfazed, undaunted and always smiling, drove on.
On the sidewalk, Farhana Begum stood, her gaze trailing the silver vehicle.
“She is beautiful. Yes, I voted for Noor Bano,” she said.
In another part of the constituency, Jayaprada rode in another silver-colored SUV trudging along the dusty, narrow roads, right into the interiors of her constituency. It was here, on the fringes of the constituency that Jayaprada is still a star. Little children ran after her vehicle, shouting, and alerting villagers that “Jayaprada” had come. And people gathered, hundreds of them, defying the sun, and waited patiently to get a glimpse of her.
She never entered the city. And Noor Bano never ventured into the villages.
But the battle never played out between the two anyways. In Rampur, the war is between Samajwadi Party leaders Azam Khan and Amar Singh. And while Jayaprada finds herself dragged into the dirty fight, desperately pleading her constituents to vote for her, for Noor Bano, it is all playing out in her favour.
As the polling closed, Congress workers were optimistic.
“It is a 60-40 ratio. Noor Bano is winning,” KD Mathur, a Congress supporter, said.
In 2004, the Bollywood star defeated the royal family’s daughter-in-law by 85,000 votes, of which 55,000 votes had fallen in her kitty because of Samajwadi Party leader Azam Khan’s support in the city areas. Five years later, the equations had changed and the star was pitched in a battle against her own mentor, who said she was friendly with the RSS.
However, on Wednesday Bano kept to the sidelines, never lashing out against Jayaprada or Azam Khan, who she said she had made amends with.
Sitting in Noor Mahal’s visiting area where incidentally the shelves are lined with Mayawati’s pictures (Noor Bano’s son is a BSP MLA), Noor Begum reminisced about the years gone by, and how her husband told her she had to take care of her people. This is her fifth election.
“Last time I lost because I never considered SP as a contender. The fight was between the BJP and the Congress. It was unexpected,” she said. “She just came. There were singing and dancing. 35 Bollywood stars came to campaign for her. People here had never seen anything like that. They were charmed.”
Noor Bano has never met her opponent. Only once, they came face to face with each other when both had gone to the beauty salon in Le Meridian in Delhi. That was three months ago.
She only knows her through her films.
“She doesn’t ;live here,” she said. “I am in touch with the people.”
But the locals think otherwise.
“She goes to Paris, London. What does she know about us,” Geeta Rani, another voter said. “At least Jayaprada has done development here.”
But Ikram Khan won’t betray his first lady. He has forgiven her.
“She is our sympathiser,” he said, as he queued up to talk to Noor Bano. “Jayaprada is only film, only glamour. Begum has said she will be with us forever now. May God bless her.”
Noor Bano needed the blessings. At 4:45 a.m. when she woke up, she kneeled down in prayers, and then went out to vote.
Outside her residence, a Sufi saint stood, counting the beads.
Along the battle lines, Gods were invoked often.
On Wednesday, Jayaprada, the star, consulted her stars often. Over the phone, astrologers told her it was an auspicious day and she needn’t worry.
At 8 a.m., when she emerged out of her bedroom, dressed in a cream suit, the dupatta draped over her head, she folded her hands in supplication and prayed to the deities lined up on the side table.
Then her family prayed as extra security personnel gathered outside the emperor’s suite at Modipur Hotel, which is about five kilometres away from the city. They weren’t taking any chances after her hotel room was raided Monday night and there were rumurs that Azam Khan’s supporters might attack her.
“I am scared. But I am hopeful,” Jayaprada said, as she got out of the suite.
A quick stop at the temple and then it was the turn of the far-flung villages like Shahbad, Milak, and Dharampur.
The Rampur fight has become quite a pot-boiler with high drama preceding the election day. After Azam Khan rebelled, Jayaprada found herself in a fix, desperately seeking votes to keep her seat.
In the last few days, she has kept busy, dodging rumurs, clarifying that the CDs with her nude pictures on it were morphed, and constantly touching on the fact that a woman being maligned isn’t good politics.
But she still called Azam Khan her brother.
Khan, meanwhile, refused allegations that he had circulated the CDs.
“Where are the CDs? I want to see one and I want to know where she got it from if she has one,” he said. “I wouldn’t do such a thing. I am a simple man. I respect women.”
And while the city turned against her, and the Azam Khan factor weaned away the Muslim votes, her work – 13 bridges, a culvert, schools - brought her the votes.
In a polarized election such as this one, BJP and even a few BSP votes have come to her rescue. Most of the Lodh Rajput community are supporting Jayaprada. And in view of the Muslims coming together in Azam Khan’s support, some BJP supporters have also thrown their weight behind Jayaprada.
For more than a month, Jayaprada has been camping in Rampur, canvassing with her family.
On Wednesday, as the daughter got out of her suite, she stooped to touch her mother’s feet. Neelaveni hugged her daughter tight. Barefoot, the mother followed Jayaprada to the foyer.
At Noor Mahal, a mother prepared for a day out in the constituency, as her daughter, Saman Ali Khan, ushered Noor Bano into the car.
At 7 a.m., we were up and trailing the two women through the narrow alleys and into the interiors of the constituency. Tiring but fun. The edited version appeared in the Indian Express on May 14, 2009.
Chinki Sinha
Rampur, May 13, 2009
On Wednesday, the two ladies of Rampur never crossed each other’s paths.
Seventy-year-old Begum Noor Bano, the Congress candidate, drove around the city, halting and rolling down her silver Tata Safari’s windows often to talk to people, sometimes getting off the car, splendid in her white saree, her diamonds and pearls glittering, and walked to the polling booths as people thronged to see her.
“I have never seen the Begum. I have lived here all my life,” Praveen Chaurasia, a resident of Kaith Wali Masjid, said, sarcasm evident in his voice. “But she lives in palaces. She doesn’t need to come here.”
But the Begum, unfazed, undaunted and always smiling, drove on.
On the sidewalk, Farhana Begum stood, her gaze trailing the silver vehicle.
“She is beautiful. Yes, I voted for Noor Bano,” she said.
In another part of the constituency, Jayaprada rode in another silver-colored SUV trudging along the dusty, narrow roads, right into the interiors of her constituency. It was here, on the fringes of the constituency that Jayaprada is still a star. Little children ran after her vehicle, shouting, and alerting villagers that “Jayaprada” had come. And people gathered, hundreds of them, defying the sun, and waited patiently to get a glimpse of her.
She never entered the city. And Noor Bano never ventured into the villages.
But the battle never played out between the two anyways. In Rampur, the war is between Samajwadi Party leaders Azam Khan and Amar Singh. And while Jayaprada finds herself dragged into the dirty fight, desperately pleading her constituents to vote for her, for Noor Bano, it is all playing out in her favour.
As the polling closed, Congress workers were optimistic.
“It is a 60-40 ratio. Noor Bano is winning,” KD Mathur, a Congress supporter, said.
In 2004, the Bollywood star defeated the royal family’s daughter-in-law by 85,000 votes, of which 55,000 votes had fallen in her kitty because of Samajwadi Party leader Azam Khan’s support in the city areas. Five years later, the equations had changed and the star was pitched in a battle against her own mentor, who said she was friendly with the RSS.
However, on Wednesday Bano kept to the sidelines, never lashing out against Jayaprada or Azam Khan, who she said she had made amends with.
Sitting in Noor Mahal’s visiting area where incidentally the shelves are lined with Mayawati’s pictures (Noor Bano’s son is a BSP MLA), Noor Begum reminisced about the years gone by, and how her husband told her she had to take care of her people. This is her fifth election.
“Last time I lost because I never considered SP as a contender. The fight was between the BJP and the Congress. It was unexpected,” she said. “She just came. There were singing and dancing. 35 Bollywood stars came to campaign for her. People here had never seen anything like that. They were charmed.”
Noor Bano has never met her opponent. Only once, they came face to face with each other when both had gone to the beauty salon in Le Meridian in Delhi. That was three months ago.
She only knows her through her films.
“She doesn’t ;live here,” she said. “I am in touch with the people.”
But the locals think otherwise.
“She goes to Paris, London. What does she know about us,” Geeta Rani, another voter said. “At least Jayaprada has done development here.”
But Ikram Khan won’t betray his first lady. He has forgiven her.
“She is our sympathiser,” he said, as he queued up to talk to Noor Bano. “Jayaprada is only film, only glamour. Begum has said she will be with us forever now. May God bless her.”
Noor Bano needed the blessings. At 4:45 a.m. when she woke up, she kneeled down in prayers, and then went out to vote.
Outside her residence, a Sufi saint stood, counting the beads.
Along the battle lines, Gods were invoked often.
On Wednesday, Jayaprada, the star, consulted her stars often. Over the phone, astrologers told her it was an auspicious day and she needn’t worry.
At 8 a.m., when she emerged out of her bedroom, dressed in a cream suit, the dupatta draped over her head, she folded her hands in supplication and prayed to the deities lined up on the side table.
Then her family prayed as extra security personnel gathered outside the emperor’s suite at Modipur Hotel, which is about five kilometres away from the city. They weren’t taking any chances after her hotel room was raided Monday night and there were rumurs that Azam Khan’s supporters might attack her.
“I am scared. But I am hopeful,” Jayaprada said, as she got out of the suite.
A quick stop at the temple and then it was the turn of the far-flung villages like Shahbad, Milak, and Dharampur.
The Rampur fight has become quite a pot-boiler with high drama preceding the election day. After Azam Khan rebelled, Jayaprada found herself in a fix, desperately seeking votes to keep her seat.
In the last few days, she has kept busy, dodging rumurs, clarifying that the CDs with her nude pictures on it were morphed, and constantly touching on the fact that a woman being maligned isn’t good politics.
But she still called Azam Khan her brother.
Khan, meanwhile, refused allegations that he had circulated the CDs.
“Where are the CDs? I want to see one and I want to know where she got it from if she has one,” he said. “I wouldn’t do such a thing. I am a simple man. I respect women.”
And while the city turned against her, and the Azam Khan factor weaned away the Muslim votes, her work – 13 bridges, a culvert, schools - brought her the votes.
In a polarized election such as this one, BJP and even a few BSP votes have come to her rescue. Most of the Lodh Rajput community are supporting Jayaprada. And in view of the Muslims coming together in Azam Khan’s support, some BJP supporters have also thrown their weight behind Jayaprada.
For more than a month, Jayaprada has been camping in Rampur, canvassing with her family.
On Wednesday, as the daughter got out of her suite, she stooped to touch her mother’s feet. Neelaveni hugged her daughter tight. Barefoot, the mother followed Jayaprada to the foyer.
At Noor Mahal, a mother prepared for a day out in the constituency, as her daughter, Saman Ali Khan, ushered Noor Bano into the car.
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