BIJBEHARA: Her roadshows are like few on view. Standing atop a SUV, a dupatta draping her head, debutant Iltija Mufti sports a wide smile with folded hands, the deft sway of her head quietly seeking support over a noisy gathering. But in no time, she could be seen grabbing a party flag from a supporter and leading the sloganeering, her slender frame jerking to her lusty chants of “joonu joonu, PDP joonu”, her two fists raised, a squeaky voice bearing the novelty of an upstart.
She could be the mild-mannered grandfather Mufti Mohd Sayeed or aggressive mother Mehbooba Mufti.
To those witnessing this unfold in real time realise it is a tough battle to become an MLA. But many who watch it as WhatsApp forward, bereft of context, could mistake it for a college election. Such are the frames of freshness that intersperse the roadshows of Iltija.
“We have to keep moving. We will speak later please,” is her earnest plea bending through the sunroof, as she politely waves off a journalist and gets back to the routine of being seen and supported.
Two types of crowds greet her long convoy. Youth in the towns who seem to identify with the tag of PDP and Mufti. And families in villages, predominantly women and young girls, who stand at their doors and line the streets to welcome their child. It is the countryside, the green and serene villages of Bijbehara, that bare the deep reserves of emotional connect for the PDP.
On the last day of campaigning, PDP made one last push in these pockets. The day-long car show brought towns, villages and traffic to a halt, jamming the streets and markets and small bridges. The day would have restored the party’s faith, locked as it is in a surprise challenge in the family stronghold of Bijbehara. And the party would have hoped it’s the same in the larger region of south Kashmir.
It is Iltija’s stop and move rally that reveals what made PDP a force within three years of its launch in 1999 by the late Mufti Mohd Sayeed. In some villages, young girls rush to the campaign vehicle and lead the sloganeering on mics, as others organically join in response. It could be the typical ‘tamasha’ that poll campaigns are to children. Or, it could be the passing of support across generations in families. All through, the Mufti girl smiles and merely seeks support — “we will do your work. You know us…”
A retired govt employee, Mohd Saleem Shah was in Congress with “Mufti Sahab” and followed him to PDP. “The tie-up with BJP was wrong, but PDP will win here.” Mushtaq Ahmed, who drives large trucks of Kashmiri apples around the country, eagerly joined the roadshow in his own car, driving at breakneck speed along the narrow serpentine roads that connect the hamlets around here. “It can be a close fight. But we should win,” he sighed, asking for patience till October 8, the counting day.
It is a grim battle in south Kashmir, with even BJP taking out a big road show that shop owners and café boys are talking about in Bijbehara. The 37-year-old, third generation political legatee of the famous clan could not have chosen a more difficult moment for her electoral plunge.
But Iltija’s concern seems laser focused on emerging as a new generation of politician in the fraught region with treacherous politics of weathered players.
“…. I will be your MLA,” is how she signed off at a village, leaving behind smiling women and girls.
She could be the mild-mannered grandfather Mufti Mohd Sayeed or aggressive mother Mehbooba Mufti.
To those witnessing this unfold in real time realise it is a tough battle to become an MLA. But many who watch it as WhatsApp forward, bereft of context, could mistake it for a college election. Such are the frames of freshness that intersperse the roadshows of Iltija.
“We have to keep moving. We will speak later please,” is her earnest plea bending through the sunroof, as she politely waves off a journalist and gets back to the routine of being seen and supported.
Two types of crowds greet her long convoy. Youth in the towns who seem to identify with the tag of PDP and Mufti. And families in villages, predominantly women and young girls, who stand at their doors and line the streets to welcome their child. It is the countryside, the green and serene villages of Bijbehara, that bare the deep reserves of emotional connect for the PDP.
On the last day of campaigning, PDP made one last push in these pockets. The day-long car show brought towns, villages and traffic to a halt, jamming the streets and markets and small bridges. The day would have restored the party’s faith, locked as it is in a surprise challenge in the family stronghold of Bijbehara. And the party would have hoped it’s the same in the larger region of south Kashmir.
It is Iltija’s stop and move rally that reveals what made PDP a force within three years of its launch in 1999 by the late Mufti Mohd Sayeed. In some villages, young girls rush to the campaign vehicle and lead the sloganeering on mics, as others organically join in response. It could be the typical ‘tamasha’ that poll campaigns are to children. Or, it could be the passing of support across generations in families. All through, the Mufti girl smiles and merely seeks support — “we will do your work. You know us…”
A retired govt employee, Mohd Saleem Shah was in Congress with “Mufti Sahab” and followed him to PDP. “The tie-up with BJP was wrong, but PDP will win here.” Mushtaq Ahmed, who drives large trucks of Kashmiri apples around the country, eagerly joined the roadshow in his own car, driving at breakneck speed along the narrow serpentine roads that connect the hamlets around here. “It can be a close fight. But we should win,” he sighed, asking for patience till October 8, the counting day.
It is a grim battle in south Kashmir, with even BJP taking out a big road show that shop owners and café boys are talking about in Bijbehara. The 37-year-old, third generation political legatee of the famous clan could not have chosen a more difficult moment for her electoral plunge.
But Iltija’s concern seems laser focused on emerging as a new generation of politician in the fraught region with treacherous politics of weathered players.
“…. I will be your MLA,” is how she signed off at a village, leaving behind smiling women and girls.
