On Day 8, I went to the Ramlila Grounds to see what they call the "revolution" and I found the energy infectious. An edited version of the story appeared in the Indian Express on august 24, 2011.
Chinki Sinha
New Delhi, August 23, 2011
From the podium, a thin wiry woman thundered.
“Sailab se keh do, apni aukat mein rahe.”
Mumtaz Behan, who said she was a revolutionary from Mewat, was cheered on by the crowds at the Ramlila Ground. She was speaking on behalf of the Pasmanda Dalit Muslim community.
“Jo unpe haath rakhega, use benoor kar denge,” she hollered into the microphone. The crowds swayed, clapped, whistled.
In a blue salwar kurta, she went on, promising the support of all women in Mewat.
The women of Mewat in Haryana, hitherto known to be a backward region with low literacy levels and poor health indicators, had joined the movement. Hopes were running high. Corruption was the root cause of everything.
Mumtaz pledged the support of the poor women of Mewat in a hoarse voice.
The rain started to fall. As she descended the stairs, the two young men started to sing.
“Mera Rang de basanti chola ...”
More cheers. The speaker went on to list the wide spectrum of support Anna Hazare was enlisting. Farmers' unions, dalit organizations, muslim leaders, who invoked the holy month of Ramadan as they spoke about the movement's reach, its scope and its promise.
Shahid Bhagat Singh's nephew climbed on to the stage, which looked spartan with just a poster of Gandhi as the backdrop. The isolating symbols were done away with this time. No Bharat Mata this time.
On a little table, a miniature statue of Gandhi was placed.
With a group of Sikh men, the nephew Abhay Singh Sandhu sporting a yellow turban waved the flag. He said he was with Anna and so were the people of Punjab.
The tempo caught on. The music came on. Someone shouted into the mic “Inqualab Zindabad.”
And then, more speakers.
Being part of those who were throwing their weight behind Anna was considered the populist measure for some.
A leader was discussing the financial cost of it. Couple with that, there were logistical issues. But this was the right thing to do, he was overheard telling another man.
A Sikh man exhorted the crowds to dance. He was on the stage. Sandhu was on his side. The moment was right. In the rain, it would make for the pretty picture.
The cameras were arched.
Scribes were taking notes. The crowds were watching.
Intermission. The two singers have their moment. They start to croon.
Arvind Kejriwal climbs on to the stage. He has an announcement to make. The people craned their necks. The cameras panned.
“Salman Khurshid has called us. Should we go,” he said into the mic. “If he has called, we should go. But we won't do anything without consulting you.”
A round of applause. Then, the go-ahead.
In between, Ram Jethmalani is spotted. He met Anna.
"I told him he should live. He should carry on for the movement. If he dies, the movement will die so he needs to take care of himself," he said.
Then, Professor Yogendra Yadav, an Indian social scientist and a member of the NAC for the implementation of the RTÉ act, got on to the stage.
In 2009, when UP's chief minister Mayawati had addressed a rally from the same stage, the setting was different. The stage looked regal. Four airconditioners were blasting. There were the typical accompaniments – the elephants, the pink and the blue colors, the diamonds glittering in her ears.
The same stage, which looked so out of reach, and so made up, is now the focal point of the movement. On an elevated level, Anna sits.
Yadav began his speech.
“This is a festival of democracy,” he said.
He said it warmed his heart to see people speaking in Marathi in Delhi. It was integration.
He asked the crowd what it meant when they wore caps and t-shirts saying “I am Anna.”
He went on to explain.
“It means we are looking for Anna within us,” he said.
Outside, vendors selling Anna caps were doing brisk business. Everyone was looking for Anna within and without.
Anna was behind the stage. Sleeping.
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