Before I could react, he lunged at me, aiming for my neck. I was shocked and stunned, frozen in place, unsure of how to respond. As I collected myself, preparing to retaliate forcefully, Satyendra Jain, my campaign manager then, intervened, pushing me to the side and restraining the man, asking, "Why are you getting angry?"
Despite his aggressive behaviour, the man didn't fit the image of a ruffian or antisocial individual. He was short in stature, but far from being labelled a thug. His demeanour was sombre, with a serious expression on his face. I had never met him before, which left me puzzled as to why had he directed such harsh abuse at me. What had I done to deserve such humiliation? Why was he so furious with me? Jain, with more experience in electoral politics, instructed some of my supporters not to react and urged them to move me forward. Meanwhile, he engaged the man in conversation. Despite Jain's efforts, the man continued to shout and hurl insults. Eventually, I swallowed my pride and moved on, determined to meet others in the park.
Leaving behind my glamorous and lucrative job as the editor of a popular news channel, I had ventured into politics. The Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) was a new party with revolutionary ideas, capturing my imagination after the Anna movement against institutionalised corruption.
In the 2013 Delhi assembly elections, the AAP surprised everyone by winning 28 seats, forming a government with the support of eight Congress MLAs. Arvind Kejriwal served as the Chief Minister, but resigned after just 49 days in power. It was during this time that I joined the AAP and received the ticket to contest parliamentary elections from the Chandni Chowk Lok Sabha Constituency. While I had always enjoyed analysing politics and elections, this marked my first foray into electoral politics. The abuse I faced left me shaken to my core, trembling with anger and public humiliation. More than anything, I felt helpless, like a lamb led to slaughter. Normally, the aggressor would retreat, but on that day, the roles were reversed, forcing me to seek refuge among my supporters. Shortly after the incident, Jain approached me, revealing that the man had intentionally provoked me to create a scene and portray me as quarrelsome. It was a political ploy orchestrated by my opponents to discredit me.
While I had no reason to doubt Jain's assessment, I still pondered about who orchestrated the incident, and why. This baptism by fire taught me a crucial lesson: in electoral politics, image is everything, and perception often trumps reality. The entire ordeal was orchestrated to push me out of the contest. My main opponents were two stalwarts of electoral politics: Kapil Sibal, a celebrated Supreme Court lawyer and Congress candidate, who served as a cabinet minister in Manmohan Singh's ministry, and Dr. Harsh Vardhan, who would later become a minister in Narendra Modi's first tenure. Despite being a novice, I was considered to have a fair chance of winning the Chandni Chowk seat. Though I ultimately lost to Dr. Harsh Vardhan, I was ahead of Sibal by a significant margin, securing over 3 lakh votes.
The memory of that abuse haunted me for years. However, it taught me a valuable lesson: in politics, one must be prepared for any provocation or eventuality. Never lose your temper in public, as it only earns you a bad name. Despite being new to politics, my previous visibility on TV made me a target. However, the Modi wave proved too powerful, resulting in the AAP losing all seven seats in Delhi, though it would later win 67 out of the 70 seats in the assembly elections held just a few months later.
Another lesson I learned was to never accept cash from anyone. The AAP positioned itself as a revolutionary party committed to cleaning up politics. One of the major issues plaguing Indian politics was the circulation of black money. Modi, during the run-up to the 2014 general elections, had promised to bring back black money stashed in foreign banks. Before Modi's promise, the Anna movement and Baba Ramdev had accused Manmohan Singh of colluding with the black money lobby. I knew from the beginning that cameras would follow me everywhere, requiring me to exercise extra caution. As a candidate, I had to address numerous corner meetings and interact with hundreds of people, ranging from genuine sympathisers to mischief-makers, always ready to catch me off guard.
On one such occasion, after delivering a speech in the Adarsh Nagar area, an assembly constituency in the Chandni Chowk parliamentary seat, I got into my car. As the car slowly navigated through the crowd, I heard a knock on the window. Peering out, I saw a young man in his early 30s holding bundles of cash, claiming his family had collected Rs 1 lakh to support me and my party. Politely declining the cash, I thanked him and instructed my driver to move on. After driving a few yards, my driver told me: "Sir, you did the right thing. A camera was at work, recording everything from behind that man." I was taken by surprise as I had not noticed the camera. I could immediately sense that the whole exercise was a trap, to catch me accepting cash and make a big issue out of that. I was saved.
Even before that incident, I had vowed not to accept cash under any circumstances. In those days, the permissible limit for election expenses was Rs 70 lakh. While many friends and colleagues supported me financially through cheques or direct transfers, some preferred to remain discreet. Although they offered cash, I politely declined, insisting on receiving contributions through cheques. In those days, the AAP was a party with a difference. In its first election in 2013, it collected Rs 20 crore through crowdfunding and, once the target was reached, it urged people not to send any more money. However, those were different times, and the AAP was a different party.
Politics has evolved since then. The 2014 elections were the most expensive in Indian electoral history at the time. Candidates with limited finances are at a disadvantage today, and despite some cosmetic reforms, the issue persists. At the end of each election, candidates are required to submit details of their expenditures. My bill totalled more than Rs 50 lakh, while my main opponents had officially spent slightly more than Rs 30 lakh. To this day, I wonder how that was possible.
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(Ashutosh is author of 'Hindu Rashtra' and Editor, satyahindi.com.)
Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of the author
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