I watched the video clip of Union minister Nitin Gadkari’s disarmingly candid chat in mid-September, where he talks about the origins of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) slogan—‘achhe din aayenge’ (good days will come). He said that Narendra Modi had once told him that at a non-resident Indian (NRI) event in Delhi, the people had asked then Prime Minister Manmohan Singh when would it be achhe din for them? Singh had apparently said: In the future, achhe din would surely come. Gadkari went on to add (chucking all the time), that since Indians are inherently aspirational, there is no such thing as an ultimate achhe din. He also said that wherever he goes, the people (and the media) ask him about the promised achhe din, and that the now-famous slogan has become something like a millstone around the neck.
As expected, this provided much mirth to all critics of the government, and probably some discomfort to the government’s supporters. I am not sure though if anyone enjoyed this more than Gadkari, who was clearly having a good laugh not only at the expense of his party for hyping that slogan, but also us (the people), for constantly demanding to know when achhe din would be delivered.
Commentators pointed out that it will not be easy for the BJP to escape from the wide-ranging promises it had made during electioneering. Gadkari obviously realizes the scale of promises made by his party. His remark, which referred to the unquenchable desire for acquiring more, is spot on. The problem then, is of having stoked unrealistic expectations, and used every trick in the book, and off it, to run down the United Progressive Alliance (UPA) government.
On this count, Modi, then as the prime challenger, led the charge. Promising the moon on every conceivable issue, he and his campaign managers successfully created an aura of invincibility, built upon the so-called Gujarat model of governance. The bubble has now well and truly burst. The list of promises not kept have mounted. A host of individuals have made a mockery of Modi’s promises to the nation—from lawmakers in the BJP who have put paid to all hopes of ‘sab ka saath, sab ka vikas’ (development for all), to people like Vijay Mallya, who represent the rot of crony capitalism. The economy, propped up by cheap oil, is also not quite humming the tune the BJP would like it to. Recent projections suggest that the rupee will fall further against the US dollar, and our gross domestic product estimates are still being met with widespread scepticism.
One can quibble about the intensity of opposition the government has faced and how it compares with previous governments, but it is undeniable that any political party that campaigns using such outlandish promises must face the music when its failings surface. Even after assuming office as prime minister, Modi went from stage to stage—at home and abroad—proudly declaring that Indians who were once ashamed of their country are now roaring with pride. That some of these statements were made within weeks of the BJP coming to power should have been a telling statement of the hubris that this government came with. But it is more important to use these occasions to disseminate a more important message to the people at large—that no government (and certainly no man) will come to rescue us with a magic wand. The goods and services tax, Aadhaar and National Rural Employment Guarantee Act clearly show that policy continuity is a fact of life in governing India.
But it is perhaps the rhetoric on national security that must be weighing most heavily around the government’s neck. Modi and associates, who seemingly possessed a perfect soundbyte-sized solution to every national security and foreign policy issue, have been forced to reflect a bit deeply for a change. The controlled ‘surgical strike’, followed by uncontrolled jingoism, suggests dangerous possibilities. For a government struggling to deliver on several other fronts, will it be able to escape the temptation for more expansive adventurism along the border? After all, war would be the perfect spectator sport for a populace fed up of India’s tepid anti-terrorism strategy. This is the constituency that cares little about growth and development, but is intensely conscious of India’s ‘atma-samman’ (self respect). Humouring it is likely to be a key priority, but the consequences could be disastrous.
For the restless India of today, this is a good time to look back at its recent past. What was it that made it kosher for an electorate to overlook the limits of reality, and cheer in chorus for a messiah? I have consistently argued in these columns that we recognise that governance is more than delivering rousing speeches; that no one man is going to transform India; and that we must not restrict our political choices so much that we settle for leaders with narrow communal and authoritarian tendencies.
So let this be a moment that tempers the triumphalism of 2014, and of the sobering realisation that an election campaign, mounted on an epic scale, pulled off one of the greatest cons in recent times. We should be thankful that sensible leaders such as Gadkari are owning up to the electoral jumlas. That will come in handy when the BJP looks within for alternative mascots to redeem its beleaguered self.
Suvojit Chattopadhyay works on issues of governance and development. Over the last decade, he has worked with a range of development agencies in India, Ghana and Kenya.