Poll pourri: Indian election diary - April 25

Gulf News Foreign Editor Neena Gopal is in India covering the state elections.

In this Web-only diary, Neena breaks away from the politicians and the soundbites to take an alternative look at the polls, and find out what's really happening on the ground.

Boorish behaviour

It's a blur now. Perhaps because the mind shuts out the unpleasant. But covering V S Achuthanandan on his campaign through Malampuzha district must rank as absolutely the most disagreaable in all my years of covering elections.

It was a day when everything we did was corrected at every turn by his press secretary Shahjehan, a man who should clearly not be in charge of the media. He implied first that my mere presence could unsettle VS - and yet the old world commissar was the one who kept stepping in to say he would like to be interviewed.

Then our media expert said the sight of me or our car - which had to be kept as far away as possible from his Stone Age Ambassador - could change the voter's mind. This could mean one of two things. The voter was either very fickle. Or they weren't confident of victory.

The comrade even sent an emissary, asking me to take off my aviator sunglasses!

The final straw was our two-time Member of Parliament from Kerala bearing down on a rath, the election chariot birthed by the man they all love to hate, Lal Krishna Advani, but adopted by all his contemporaries anyway. As he came towards me, he was shouting "Get out". I thought he could not possibly mean me. But he did. I told him I had one question left - on what VS planned to do for Keralites living in the Gulf on providing a budget airline - he was not interested.

He literally pushed me off the rath and when on the ground he and Shahjehan took it in turns to shove and threaten violence if I didn't leave immediately. "Do you know who I am, I will see that you never enter these parts again, if you do, you will not emerge from this alive, get out now or I'll fix you. I know all about your newspaper, about people like you?"

The people gawked, and gaped. I was stunned.

A woman who'd offered to get me some water when she saw me signalling for some earlier and was stopped by Krishnadas, came up. So did a dozen others who wanted to take me to their home. I was moved to tears by their kindness.

"We saw what he did, we won't vote for him. We're not afraid of him, but after what he's done to you, we won't vote for Krishnadas again."

Tamil tranquility

I'm headed for Madurai, a five-hour journey by road from Coimbatore, leaving the offensive VS coterie behind. We use the back roads because the main connection via Pollachi, Udumalpettai and Palani, mere dots on my map, is being redone before the monsoon. The road through Tamil Nadu's interior is an eye-opener. Barring stretches that forcefully bring back memories of a failing middle India, 'Bharat', where the road has crumbled into rubble, the 250-km stretch is not as bad as I expected. There are wind energy powered fields of green, a sea of tranquility that Tamil Nadu has retained and Kerala's over-populated Gulf generated consumerism has lost.

There are old style homes with wooden doorways through which you can see televisions sparking to life; on the roads, women carrying firewood, men shepherding their flock, in pastoral scenes that must remain unchanged through the centuries.

You whiz through the villages but the urban islands and the mass of seething, untidy humanity slow you down. Instead of one roadside banana seller you have dozens, instead of one coconut water vendor there are hundreds.

Arumugam who picks the ripest 'Mysore' bananas - Rs 5 for a dozen, I take two and give him the five rupees - from a whole arm of fruit says he's been given money by both sides. Across the road from him is a decorated tent that flaunts the rising sun, symbol of the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam. ?They come and offer you free dhotis and give you cash, but I haven't really decided whom I'm going to vote for. My wife likes Amma, but I don't know. ? The other banana seller jeers ?he'll do what his wife tells him to do.?

A traffic jam brought on by the propensity of Tamil politicians to campaign after three pm when the sun goes down and the farmers finish their work for the day delays us by another hour.

Film actor Ramrajyam who bats for Jayalalitha's Anna DMK was supposed to be at this spot, a narrow junction, at four pm. Instead, it's 7.30 and he's here at the same time as the DMK candidate. Luckily, there's no clash. One stays, the other leaves. And some fifty or more Toyota vans, pick-ups carrying lowing cattle from the nearby cattle market, articulated lorries packed with garments from Coimbatore's mills head for the nearest port, Tuticorin, as well as cyclists and carts carrying fresh produce, tomatos, brinjals and ladies finger are stuck.

The call of the peacock

I wake up at dawn this morning to the sound of bird song. Crows of course, an automatic wake-up call in most of India, but there's also the sound of the peacock. Primeval, unreal. And security is tight.

Rising star Dayanidhi Maran, DMK leader Karunanidhi's nephew, and the entire DMK alliance and Sonia Gandhi are arriving for a public meeting in this temple town where the morning ritual is the wedding of the presiding deity Madura Meenaskhi.