“We have fought in Nandigram, we have fought in Netai, in Keshpur, Garbeta, Choto Angaria,” Trinamool Congress supremo Mamata Bannerjee tells a cheering crowd, adding, “and now that we are so near the end of our political battle, does Jalangi want to be left out of the poriborton [change] that is sweeping through Bengal like an enormous sea wave?”
Here, on the south-eastern edge of Murshidabad district, a few kilometres from the Bangladesh border, it is a scorching afternoon. But those who have gathered here in their thousands, especially the large number of women, don't seem to mind. And Ms. Bannerjee appears to be aware of their admiration for her: she suddenly stops, looks at the women pressing against the security D, and tells them they have her permission to come closer. Instantly, much to the chagrin of the security personnel on duty, the women breach the barricades and swarm in, closer to the stage.
“Look at her,” a young woman standing next me says. “She's dressed in a simple white sari.” Ms Bannerjee is dressed in her trademark white Dhanekali sari, but today, a white muslin chador, embroidered in white, envelopes her diminutive form as well, the ends covering her head, a nod to Muslim-dominated Jalangi.
But that's not the only concession to the minority community — she quotes from Nazrul Islam, Bengal's other great poet, and appeals to her “Ammas” and “Abbas” to vote for her party: “Allah ho Akbar,” she cries out, adding, “La Ilah Ilalah Mohammad un Rasool Allah. Inshallah, porborton hobe. [God willing, there will be change.]”
But she balances this with invocations to Kali and Durga, and then a mandatory reference to Swami Vivekananda. Ms. Bannerjee is not about to leave any ground uncovered.
A Mamata rally is not just about political speeches — it's a performance. Like a pop star, she grabs a hand held microphone, strides across the stage and makes her appeal to the mothers and sisters of Jalangi, then walks to the other end to address the youth, then turns to exhort those sitting on the rooftops around the maidan to cheer louder.
If the object of her ire is the Left Front government, she doesn't leave out her old ally, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), which is contesting from all 294 seats in West Bengal. “The BJP,” she says, “is helping the Left Front. They are not with you in your happiness or sorrow, but when it's election time, they come creeping in. Beware.”
She holds out the lure of development to the people here, and tells them not to be left out of the changes that are sweeping the State. The emphasis is important because the Trinamool's Idris Ali here is not just contesting against the CPI(M) but also a rebel Congress candidate.
Mr. Ali is being backed by Congress strongman and Berhampur MP Adhir Choudhury.
Jalangi, along with Horihorpara, Bhagobangola and Sagardighi are the four Assembly seats in Murshidabad district from where Mr. Choudhary has fielded his rebels. The rebels have been expelled, but the Berhampur MP, still in the party, remains defiant and the road from Berhampur, the district headquarters, to Jalangi is plastered with posters of Mr Chaudhury, along with his “independent” candidate.
Referring directly to the rebel candidate, and the discomfort among State Congress leaders like Mr. Chaudhury and Uttar Dinajpur MP Deepa Das Munsi to the “jot” (the Congress-Trinamool alliance), Ms Bannerjee says, “Do we have to ask for permission to enter Murshidabad?”
Clearly, the Trinamool supremo, who is hoping to make a smooth entry into the Writer's Building next month, does not want to be confined to her stronghold of south Bengal — she would like to be able to hoist the Trinamool flag in the north as well, to emphasise that she is the real leader, and is not dependent on the Congress.
