As one zips in and out of Ahmedabad chasing politicians, political factotums and general straws floating in the election winds, a cabbie proudly shows off his ‘great city’. One tries to tell him this is just a five-year ritual and, after the final scorecards come in, nothing much may change in his beloved city. But the old man is persistent: Can his election wish be put out in the media? He wants Ahmedabad to be renamed as Sarabhaibad or Sarabhainagar.
He’s apparently not alone. There’s a small group making this demand. He even threatens to derail this writer’s Surat trip so he can arrange a tete-a-tete with the group leader. The reasons are trotted out in a well-rehearsed pitch. Vikram Sarabhai was a great scientist but a greater human being. No one has done as much for the city as he had—having donated his own land for institutions like the IIM, the NID, the Space Centre, etc. You don’t quite get this type anymore, do you?
The conversation doesn’t end there. The old man is convinced post-polls Ahmedabad will be renamed Karnavati. Lest one thinks he has no other media contacts, he calls up friends in ‘TV and print’, reminding them of his request. One assures him of a televised debate. The old cabbie may not have the ears of the powers that be. But unknowingly, he had flagged off an elemental issue relevant to Gujarat’s present situation, perhaps in a manner no political scientist could.
That ‘land’ holds the key to how things have panned out here in terms of political economy. Whether in slogans about a fabled model, or the groundswell of protests one sees now. Beyond that old line, dhandho chhe (after all, it’s business), every other Gujarati seems to be forming a pressure group to place demands related to, or flowing from, this crucial resource. How strikingly apt then, this metaphor! And how quaint, almost from another planet. More than Sarabhai the scientist, or the patron of the arts and crafts of Gujarat, he was a donor of land for nation-building.
Land was the crucial factor that defined the model of the best-known person from Gujarat now, Narendra Modi. As Mamata Banerjee successfully drove away the Tata Nano factory from Singur, a famous SMS from the then Gujarat CM to the Tata chief ensured the latter had a piece of factory-ready land in Sanand, Gujarat. Gujarat became an auto-hub. Easy availability of land and quick single-window clearance made it a desired destination for manufacturing and infrastructure projects. ‘Ease of business’, at least around the one factor that proved so problematic elsewhere, was the hallmark of the Modi era between 2001-14.
Gujarat grew at 10.1 per cent, maybe lower than Maharashtra (10.8 per cent) and Tamil Nadu (10.3 per cent), but well above the national average. It was visibly transformative in many ways. Administrative politics shifted to the Chinese style. Nation-building was no longer about donating land. It was now about facilitating business—anyway the natural inclination of the Gujarati. What the Modi model also did was to develop road infrastructure, and make electricity surplus and water not as scarce as before. Where the model faltered was human indices—the things that affected everyone beneath the gloss.
Life expectancy, infant mortality, women’s health, education and, surprisingly and crucially, even income (per capita to GDP). Not just no match for Kerala, Maharashtra, TN, or even tiny Himachal—the developed states—but less than the national average. Teachers’ salaries remained abysmally low, affecting primary education and creating conditions for an above-national-average dropout rate at the secondary level. Without enough doctors, public health suffered too.
Surprisingly, the investments that landed in Gujarat did not lead to large-scale skill development of the local population, like it did in Karnataka and Andhra. The political fallout of this is what is being witnessed now—the 25 per cent MSMEs hit in Surat, Rajkot, Ahmedabad, unable to counter global headwinds or the domestic downturn.
That’s why Gujarati youth engaged or employed in trade are talking of ‘jobless growth’, in unusually angry, protesting tones perhaps for the first time since the pre-JP movement days of Chimanbhai Patel’s time.
Add on to this the economic distress creeping up on rural Patidars, as also the 40 per cent plus OBCs not immune to those factors, and the Dalits, who have socially disabling issues specific to them in a deeply casteist society. That’s how you get Hardik Patel, Alpesh Thakor and Jignesh Mevani—and sundry other groups in agitation mode. Electorally what it means is tough to say.
Hardik may carry only part of the Patidar vote with him, Thakor can only make a difference in north Gujarat and the Dalits are just 7 per cent, spread across the state. Plus, on the ground, Hardik and Thakor’s vote banks are up against each other on the quota issue. Not to mention the anger of Congress workers and supporters—39 per cent of the voters till even the last polls—for their base being bartered to “outsiders”.
But does it have analytical value? Is the Modi model on shaky ground in Gujarat? Yes. But does it mean curtains on the 22-year-old BJP rule? It doesn’t look like a convincing “yes” exists to that, not this time. The BJP-RSS election machinery is too well-oiled and entrenched to be wrenched out of power by a weak, faction-ridden Congress, in alliance with three young boys with no electoral experience. Rahul Gandhi may be getting traction and crowds at his rallies, but he may not have enough footsoldiers to harness the disaffection.
The BJP is certainly serving a notice period. That’s why the people on the streets feel that though it may be difficult for Amit Shah to break Madhavsinh Solanki’s record of 149 seats, Modi is still seen in the same league as Gujarat’s ‘strong leaders’—Sardar Patel and Morarji Desai.
Santwana Bhattacharya
Political Editor, The New Indian Express
Email: santwana@newindianexpress.com