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This is an archive article published on April 29, 2004

In Wal Mart land, Vaiko is Mandela

Nelson Mandela comes to Wal Mart-approved town and speaks for a full hour in flowing Tamil. The crowd can’t ask for more. Post-POTA Vai...

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Nelson Mandela comes to Wal Mart-approved town and speaks for a full hour in flowing Tamil. The crowd can’t ask for more.

Post-POTA Vaiko, Mandela to fans, is pure entertainment to the gathering at Tirupur’s Town Hall. By the time the evening show ends at 10 pm, Vaiko has knitted allusions, anecdotes and metaphors into quality pollspeak. ‘‘Am I a terrorist?’’ he asks Tirupur, ‘‘dear to me for upholding the ancient Tamil tradition of exporting fine silk to Greece and Rome.’’

The Euro-grade working-class crowd gives instant verdict: ‘‘NO’’. ‘‘I was detained 24 times and spent in all four years in jail. For what? Not for stealing people’s money. The Euro-grade working-class crowd gives instant verdict: ‘‘NO’’. ‘‘I was detained 24 times and spent in all four years in jail. For what? Not for stealing people’s money. For speaking up for every section of the people — from temple priests to Tamil Tigers.’’

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Vaiko lists the parliamentary approvals that came his way from veterans like Bhupesh Gupta, Jyotirmoy Basu and N G Ranga. Names that mean little to the crowd, which would have lapped up a Tommy Hilfiger instead. People cheer nevertheless. The loudest cheer is reserved for the moments when he refers to Jayalalitha in a manner daring and colourful enough to win him another term, we all know where. Now, don’t let your psephological antenna go up. The only precise patterns you see in this textile township are on T-shirts. The town itself doesn’t fit into an easy pattern, socially or politically. Cellphone-wielding bullock-cart drivers transport semi-finished beachwear, nightwear, churchwear and leisurewear across its 14,185 stitching, dyeing, printing and embroidery units. Factory-fresh cars and motorbikes fume and honk their way through cart tracks the automaker didn’t bargain for.

A needle-thin, 20-something, Class 8 dropout quality-screens a child’s T-shirt, which will hang loose on her. She doesn’t complain. A dollar a day for a shift-and-a-half gives her home at least a 40-watt shine and a TV. It isn’t an uninterrupted shine because power keeps going off.

As it does when it rains for a mere ten minutes before Vaiko arrives. The textile units don’t crib either. They quickly switch to smoke-spewing gensets and turn up the FM music to drown the noise. Tirupur is no cry-baby. It manages without much State help. Its Kamaraj-era lamp-posts don’t shed much light but are put to good use. Xeroxed notices carrying job ads are mounted on them. The priority is to keep creating jobs and wealth. Politics is a leisure activity. Vaiko is cheered off-screen as well as Rajnikant would be on-screen and off. You may find a Lalji or a Tandon here who has come to buy or invest. But Tirupur will scoff at the idea of a free sari. The place knows the value of every bit of cloth, including waste cloth, which is picked up and recycled into cleaning cloth.

Couldn’t find a single cloth banner carrying a poll ad in this textile town.

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