Rare is the occasion when one single query rises in the minds of so many Indians at the same time. The question haunting India today is this: why is 76-year-old L K Advani, former deputy prime minister of India, former BJP president, and present Leader of the Opposition, insisting on mounting his chariot yet again? To get a credible answer, I decided to interview the ‘lauh purush’ himself. I found him in mechanic’s overalls under a Swaraj Mazda bus that was dressed up as a Garuda Vahan, of Ramanand Sagar vintage. He popped his head out cheerfully from under the bus and said, ‘‘Just shoot those questions’’. Me: Namaskar, Advaniji, so it’s time to hit the high road again, I can see. Advaniji (checking the clutch pedal): Haan ji, for me a rath yatra is not just a journey. It is a destination. It is not just the expression of politics, but the very exposition of political expression. Me: Well said, Advaniji, well said. Advaniji (knocking at the master cylinder): You see, when you are going nowhere, you need to go somewhere. And if you are going somewhere, it is best to go everywhere. Me: Haan ji. Advaniji (peering at the drive shaft): My Somnath Yatra saw the biggest mass movement in the country since Independence, my Janadesh Yatra was the biggest milestone in the history of India’s morality movement. Me: Certainly, there was a lot of movement. Advaniji (examining the suspension strut): My Suraj Yatra proved that the charges filed against me by Rao were false, and I just rode over his prospects of winning the 1996 election. Me: Haan ji. Advaniji (scrutinising the brake discs): Then there was the Swarna Jayanti Yatra, which made me a second Subhas Chandra Bose. Me: Quite. Chalo Dilli, and all that. Advaniji (testing the gear levers): Bose said Chalo Dilli, but didn’t achieve it. I said Chalo Dilli, and drove straight to Raisina Hill. Me: Right ji. Advaniji (tightening a loose bolt in the chassis): Then there was my Bharat Uday Yatra in 2004. Me: Now that one, I think, wasn’t very successful. Advaniji (snorting in derision as he peered at the rear springs): Nonsense! That yatra gave us a chance to defend the nation against foreign forces—like Sonia Gandhi—and history will commend us for it. Me: But what about the latest one you are planning, Advaniji? Advaniji (emerging from under the bus to check the engine under the bonnet): The one I am just embarking upon is dedicated to uniting the country, by dividing it. Me: Sorry ji? Advaniji (checking the level of the battery water): It will strengthen the Sangh Parivar by weakening it, and consolidate the party by purging it. Me: But, Advaniji, I must tell you that many party functionaries are grumbling about this plan of yours. Advaniji (he scrambled on to the driver’s seat to check the indicator lights, and gave me a wink): If they don’t like the way I drive, I would advise them to keep off the road! Me: Can I put that down for the record, Advaniji? Advaniji (reading the fuel guage): Sure, write this down too. Sometimes to go right, one has to go left. Sometimes if you have to reach Delhi, you may have to take the road to Somnath via Jinnah’s mausoleum in Karachi. Me: Haan ji. Advaniji (setting the odometer): And you need to be really careful of the other drivers—especially the one behind you. Me: Ah yes, Advaniji, you must be worried about what the Congress is up to behind your back! Advaniji (snorting, as he adjusted the rear-view mirrors): The Congress? Ha! The Congress is no problem. It’s Rajnath Singhji whom I’ve to keep my eye on. He thinks he can overtake me before we can get to Raisina Hill!
