As Arvind Kejriwal’s government fell on Friday evening, his supporters turned up in the hundreds outside the party office to celebrate what they claimed was a precursor to a bigger victory. Among the surging crowd were several women above 50, unlikely political actors who have found a voice through AAP.
Amidst the swell of supporters and the scrum of cameras in the narrow lane outside Aam Aadmi Party's headquarters, one woman stood with a broom raised, as if ready to do battle, like a club. Stockily built and round of face, one flushed with fervour, she wore the party's trademark Gandhi topi on top of her woollen cap. "If anyone dares to even raise a finger at Arvind, I'll chop his hand off," she said. "Mera naam Drapaudi hai."
Draupadi, who looked like she was in her late-fifties, claimed she had never stepped foot in a political gathering until the time of the Anna andolan, when she saw Arvind Kejriwal and was impressed. "He is fighting for the truth," she said. "The Congress and the BJP have destroyed the future of my children, but Arvind will set it right."
Such is her faith that the grandmother of eight has been to prison three times in her short history as a political activist. "First, it was the jail in Bawana, then Tihar and finally Farukkhabad, where we had gone with Arvind after Salman Khurshid had dared him to come, saying 'khoon ki holi khalenge'."
What has she gained in her time with the party? "Prerna mili, janata mili. (inspiration and other followers)," she said. "We are not on hire. We spend our own money and come here."
What had angered her so much that she was expending her time and money? "They (Congress and BJP governments) overcharge for power and water," she said. "Do they think the water belongs to their father? The water comes from Haryana and Uttarakhand. It belongs to everyone."
Drapaudi, who lives in north Delhi's Anand Parbat, an industrial area, has family roots in both states. "I am a daughter of Karnal and a daughter-in-law of Hardiwar," she said. "My family supports me. I have a full team working for Arvind. I can lay down my life for him." She then broke into a slogan and joined the throng of supporters pushing ahead.
Another woman stood quietly on the side, hands clasped, head covered in a shawl. She had rushed to the party headquarters in the evening, when it seemed the government's fall was imminent. "This is good," she said. "Now we can come back with a full majority to rein in these people. In logon ki naak mein nakel karne," she said, identifying herself Pushpa Durgapal, a housewife-turned-active-volunteer of AAP. "I had joined the party in November 2012, when it was formed," she said. "My husband, who is an engineer, followed my lead and joined in March. Now even my daughter, who studies in Maitri college, accompanies me on my neighbourhood rounds on Sunday."
Much like it had for Drapaudi, the Anna movement had acted as a catalyst for Durgapal. She joined the AAP for similar reasons: "They are working for a better future for our children. Inflation will be reined in, corruption will be controlled."
Has she discerned any change since Kejriwal took over? "Oh yes, the other day we went to get a driving licence for our daughter and guess what, we did not have to pay a bribe," she said. Because they were AAP workers? "No, no," she replied. "We stood in the line like other aam aadmi."
On a more personal note, she said, her first taste of political life has left her with a sense of achievement. "We ended the 55-year run of Congress MLA Choudhary Prem Singh, who was on his way to making a world record," she said. Choudhary had won every election from south Delhi's Ambedkar Nagar constituency since 1958, until his resounding defeat by the AAP's candidate in the December polls.
With the curtains falling on the AAP government, the debate in the days ahead is bound largely to focus on the party's performance in power, with many people likely to forget its most extraordinary achievement: reenergising politics by bringing in voices on the outside, including those of women, even older ones.
“Who isn’t craving change?" asked Shiva Joshi, a bespectacled woman in her sixties, who had come from Shakkarpur in east Delhi. "We have grown old and tired, but we too want change.” She said she had been stitching clothes at home ever since her husband retired from the small job he had held in a private company. "The little money that we earned through hard work and lawful means was chipped away by inflation. The thousand rupees that we get as old-age pension is a joke. What does this government give us? Bheekh. (Alms) Even a beggar is better off."
These hardships had filled her with anger, so when she learned about the Aam Aadmi Party, she decided it was time to step out of home. “We are around fifty-five of us, women volunteers of the Aam Aadmi Party in the Shakkarpur area,” she said. They meet regularly and go door-to-door to spread the word. "When I go home, I sleep in peace. I feel I have done something good.”
As a drizzle started, threatening to turn into a downpour, I asked Shiva how long she planned to stay. “All night, if need be,” she said with a smile. “I can stay for ten nights if the party asks me to. But tonight, it looks like that won't be necessary. So I’ll take the last metro ride home.”
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Amidst the swell of supporters and the scrum of cameras in the narrow lane outside Aam Aadmi Party's headquarters, one woman stood with a broom raised, as if ready to do battle, like a club. Stockily built and round of face, one flushed with fervour, she wore the party's trademark Gandhi topi on top of her woollen cap. "If anyone dares to even raise a finger at Arvind, I'll chop his hand off," she said. "Mera naam Drapaudi hai."
Draupadi, who looked like she was in her late-fifties, claimed she had never stepped foot in a political gathering until the time of the Anna andolan, when she saw Arvind Kejriwal and was impressed. "He is fighting for the truth," she said. "The Congress and the BJP have destroyed the future of my children, but Arvind will set it right."
Such is her faith that the grandmother of eight has been to prison three times in her short history as a political activist. "First, it was the jail in Bawana, then Tihar and finally Farukkhabad, where we had gone with Arvind after Salman Khurshid had dared him to come, saying 'khoon ki holi khalenge'."
What has she gained in her time with the party? "Prerna mili, janata mili. (inspiration and other followers)," she said. "We are not on hire. We spend our own money and come here."
What had angered her so much that she was expending her time and money? "They (Congress and BJP governments) overcharge for power and water," she said. "Do they think the water belongs to their father? The water comes from Haryana and Uttarakhand. It belongs to everyone."
Drapaudi, who lives in north Delhi's Anand Parbat, an industrial area, has family roots in both states. "I am a daughter of Karnal and a daughter-in-law of Hardiwar," she said. "My family supports me. I have a full team working for Arvind. I can lay down my life for him." She then broke into a slogan and joined the throng of supporters pushing ahead.
Another woman stood quietly on the side, hands clasped, head covered in a shawl. She had rushed to the party headquarters in the evening, when it seemed the government's fall was imminent. "This is good," she said. "Now we can come back with a full majority to rein in these people. In logon ki naak mein nakel karne," she said, identifying herself Pushpa Durgapal, a housewife-turned-active-volunteer of AAP. "I had joined the party in November 2012, when it was formed," she said. "My husband, who is an engineer, followed my lead and joined in March. Now even my daughter, who studies in Maitri college, accompanies me on my neighbourhood rounds on Sunday."
Much like it had for Drapaudi, the Anna movement had acted as a catalyst for Durgapal. She joined the AAP for similar reasons: "They are working for a better future for our children. Inflation will be reined in, corruption will be controlled."
Has she discerned any change since Kejriwal took over? "Oh yes, the other day we went to get a driving licence for our daughter and guess what, we did not have to pay a bribe," she said. Because they were AAP workers? "No, no," she replied. "We stood in the line like other aam aadmi."
On a more personal note, she said, her first taste of political life has left her with a sense of achievement. "We ended the 55-year run of Congress MLA Choudhary Prem Singh, who was on his way to making a world record," she said. Choudhary had won every election from south Delhi's Ambedkar Nagar constituency since 1958, until his resounding defeat by the AAP's candidate in the December polls.
With the curtains falling on the AAP government, the debate in the days ahead is bound largely to focus on the party's performance in power, with many people likely to forget its most extraordinary achievement: reenergising politics by bringing in voices on the outside, including those of women, even older ones.
“Who isn’t craving change?" asked Shiva Joshi, a bespectacled woman in her sixties, who had come from Shakkarpur in east Delhi. "We have grown old and tired, but we too want change.” She said she had been stitching clothes at home ever since her husband retired from the small job he had held in a private company. "The little money that we earned through hard work and lawful means was chipped away by inflation. The thousand rupees that we get as old-age pension is a joke. What does this government give us? Bheekh. (Alms) Even a beggar is better off."
These hardships had filled her with anger, so when she learned about the Aam Aadmi Party, she decided it was time to step out of home. “We are around fifty-five of us, women volunteers of the Aam Aadmi Party in the Shakkarpur area,” she said. They meet regularly and go door-to-door to spread the word. "When I go home, I sleep in peace. I feel I have done something good.”
As a drizzle started, threatening to turn into a downpour, I asked Shiva how long she planned to stay. “All night, if need be,” she said with a smile. “I can stay for ten nights if the party asks me to. But tonight, it looks like that won't be necessary. So I’ll take the last metro ride home.”
