Ab Ki Baar Yogi, Teen Sau Paar

I may be sticking my neck out, but let me say it plainly: I would not be surprised if Yogi Adityanath’s BJP crosses 300 seats in Uttar Pradesh.

No, the BJP is not saying this.

I am.

Three hundred in a House of 403 is an extravagant number. Which is precisely why I find it interesting.

Indian elections have a wicked sense of humour. They have repeatedly made fools of people who confuse the noise of television studios with the mood of the voter.

And I suspect the opposition is making that mistake again.

Rahul Gandhi has become wonderfully good at being Rahul Gandhi. He marches, speaks, waves, attacks, makes headlines and gives television anchors something to discuss for several days. His supporters see a transformed Rahul; his critics see the old Rahul with better lighting.

But there is a small difficulty:

Making news is not the same as making votes.

The voter in Uttar Pradesh does not spend his day discussing Rahul Gandhi. He has a household to run, a ration to collect, electricity to pay for, children to educate and a thousand small worries that are considerably more pressing than the latest political controversy.

He may listen to Rahul Gandhi talking about Manusmriti. He may listen to the counter-argument about Hindutva. He may listen to the entire political class shouting at one another.

Then he goes home and asks:

What have I got? And what happens if I change this government?

That is the question the opposition ought to be answering.

And there is another question it should not ignore — the Bangladesh factor.

The killings and attacks on Hindus in Bangladesh have had an emotional and political impact in West Bengal, particularly because Bengal shares a long and porous frontier with Bangladesh and because large communities have personal memories of displacement and migration.

I would not claim that the Bangladesh killings alone produced the BJP’s victory in Bengal. That would be lazy analysis. The result had several causes — anti-incumbency, organisational consolidation, Hindu vote consolidation, political realignment and the Bangladesh-border factor among them.

But to pretend that what happens to Hindus across the border has no effect on the Bengali Hindu voter would be equally foolish.

In fact, the BJP’s performance in Bengal demonstrated how questions of identity, security and the border can enter the voting calculus.

This is where the opposition’s intellectual arrogance can become its electoral weakness.

You cannot tell people that something does not matter to them simply because you don't want it to matter.

The same applies to the wider Hindu-identity question.

Look at Nepal. The demand for restoring Hindu-state status has re-entered political discourse there. It would be ridiculous to say that every young Nepali wants a Hindu Rashtra. Nepal’s youngsters have many other grievances — corruption, unemployment, nepotism and political stagnation.

But the fact that the Hindu-state question has returned to the political conversation is worth noticing.

The subcontinent is having an argument about identity.

The opposition cannot win that argument by pretending nobody is having it.

But here comes the complication for all political theorists:

Identity has to compete with the kitchen.

And Maharashtra gave us a lesson in that too.

When the Ladki Bahin scheme began putting ₹1,500 into women’s accounts, clever people laughed at the amount.

Asha Bhosle did not.

She recalled the poverty of her childhood and said that if ₹1,500 had been available to her then, it could have meant two meals a day.

There is the whole problem with our political class in one sentence.

The commentator sees ₹1,500.

The poor woman sees dinner.

The commentator sees a welfare number.

The beneficiary sees dignity.

That is why a promise of ₹3,000 does not necessarily defeat an existing ₹1,500.

The voter may simply ask:

“Your ₹3,000 will come when? This ₹1,500 is already coming.”

Indian voters are not always looking for perfection. They are often looking for certainty.

Their philosophy is wonderfully uncomplicated:

Fayda nahin hua toh chalega; nuksaan nahin hona chahiye.

I may not have gained everything, but I don't want to lose what I already have.

And that is precisely why I am making my rather impertinent prediction:

Ab Ki Baar Yogi, Teen Sau Paar.

Not because the BJP is saying it.

Because I am.

The BJP’s challenge will be to retain its support after two terms. The opposition’s challenge is more difficult: it must persuade the voter that changing the government is worth the risk.

Rahul Gandhi can create a political moment.

Akhilesh Yadav can create an alliance.

Television can create a wave.

But Uttar Pradesh is finally decided by the man and woman who walk into the polling booth carrying their own memories.

They remember what happened in Bangladesh.

They remember what happened in Bengal.

They remember what is being said about Manusmriti and Hindutva.

They remember the ration.

They remember the welfare payment.

They remember law and order.

And above all, they remember what they already have.

That is why I am willing to put 300 on the table.

Perhaps I will be proved spectacularly wrong.

But if the opposition continues to mistake television excitement for voter excitement, it may discover on counting day that the joke was not my prediction.

The joke was their arithmetic.