As the minutes marched towards 10am, the scheduled departure time for the electoral caravan, Akbar Road was cordoned off and Congress flags appeared on the scene. A twenty-something in a black tee talked animatedly into his smartphone, “Yes, yes, it’s trending on number one position on Twitter.” A member of Prashant Kishor’s (PK) team of eight, no doubt — everyone else in the Congress, worker or leader, can probably recall fighting the Brits as easily as fighting elections. This in a country where three out of 10 people are below the age of 25.

Around 10am, as the sound of conch shells reverberated through the air and a herd of dour pandits put tika-chandan on the new campaign bus, the Gandhis arrived. A stern-faced Sonia and a smiling Rahul — he maintained that smile from the moment his mom yanked off his hand from the flagstaff (maybe he was holding it wrong) — bid farewell to the caravan.

In the 2014 general elections, the vote share of the Congress party tanked almost 30 per cent. In 2015, the Ajay Maken-led Team Delhi scored a duck. Jammu and Kashmir snowed on its non-existent parade, Assam rained on it; any hopes the party had of being part of any decision-making process drowned in West Bengal and Tamil Nadu. For every loyalist who says “Kerala and Bihar”, I say “United Democratic Front and Mahagathbandhan”.

So, what was the point of trailing Congress as it kicked off its #27SaalUPBehal campaign for the 2017 Uttar Pradesh assembly elections on the morning of July 23? Curiosity. Sheila Dikshit, the 78-year-old Congresswoman who was shown the door by Delhi in 2013, has resurfaced — as the party’s chief ministerial candidate in UP. Whether it was a serious lack of leadership or the latest in a long list of own goals that Congress has made a habit of scoring is up for debate. In any case, making a tainted, defeated and ageing party member the CM face in what is, electorally, India’s largest state reeks of poor political planning.

On the road

The cavalcade that rolled out of Delhi was made up of more than a hundred vehicles. I was in a Mahindra XUV, with Agra Congress Committee president Haji Abrar Hussain Qureshi and senior vice president Raghavendra Upadhyay. While extremely hospitable, Qureshi and Upadhyay typify the Congress old guard. Loyal to the party and the Gandhis, hateful of defectors, both believe that India’s development — and that of UP — can only be done by the party.

Both are full of unrealistic claims. Qureshi, without flinching or spitting out the pan masala, dropped bombs like “Congress parivaarvad mein vishwas nahi rakhti” (“Congress doesn’t believe in dynastic politics”). Upadhyay, a chirpy fellow in all white — hair and beard, kurta and shoes — concurred with everything Qureshi had to say. He threw in an anecdote about pulling Kim Jong Un’s cheeks on a 1989 trip to North Korea as part of an Indian Youth Congress delegation. “He was still a little boy, and his cheeks would bob up and down. He’d get very angry when I pulled his cheeks,” he said with much pride.

Having been with Congress for four decades, both are filled with fond memories from a glorious past. With no recollection of when they alighted from the gravy train, they cannot read the writing on the wall — that for all practical purposes, their only function is to make up the numbers at a rally. One more than one occasion, Qureshi asked, “Aap yeh PK ki team walon ko jante ho? Milwa do hame bhi?” (“Do you know the members of PK’s team? Please introduce us to them.”)

For people like Qureshi and Upadhyay, too much is changing too soon. Team PK represents a new trend in politics — the power its members enjoy is a sign of changing power dynamics within the party. But the one thing they lack is loyalty — a trait that is taking the party downhill. Perhaps it is party protocol, but neither Qureshi nor Upadhyay are willing to discuss Rahul Gandhi’s leadership credentials. Hope, though, is blossoming in the form of Priyanka, with even Dikshit hinting at her joining the campaign.

Confusion and longing

The constipated smile of Raj Babbar greeted the caravan as it pulled into Hapur. The story behind that expression on the campaign posters, perhaps, was the party’s decision to pass him over in Dikshit’s favour. At the rally’s first pit stop at Sagar Farmhouse, a group of women asked me, “Raj Babbar aaye hain?” (“Is Raj Babbar here?”) Surely, it wasn’t the actor’s sex appeal that had tickled their curiosity.

One after the other, leaders took the stage threatening development. Long before the curtains came down on the speeches, the party’s rank and file from trickling into the dining area and jostling in front of long tables clutching their plates and spoons. As soon as the food arrived, all hell broke loose. Patience and manners be damned.

Welcome to the world power where hundreds of men and women, young and old, have to elbow each other for a mouthful. As if to punish those who had come out in support of a dying party, the organisers at first served only rice and chapati, which vanished from the tables at warp speed. As hungry eyes scoured the scene for accompaniments, I buried whatever little respect I had for the party with the dirty dishes in the waste baskets. Or, perhaps, it was my faith in any authority claiming to serve humanity.

Irrespective of the political party, it is always the leaders feeding the imagination of the masses while feeding themselves securely in some corner. Babbar, Dikshit or Ghulam Nabi Azad, the man in charge of Congress in UP, ate in a cordoned-off area. Meanwhile, Rajindri, a 75-year-old Congress supporter who just minutes ago was holding a party flag, clutched an empty plate, as did Qureshi and Upadhyay.

The sight was enough for me to end my campaign trail. There was nothing to follow, nothing to tell; the kings and queens feast and gloat — today’s Marie Antoinettes, fully aware that a revolution will never rock their boat — while the people go to hell. With a soggy heart, dear reader, I leave you here.