Elected leaders or kitty party?

An earnest chief minister, a distracted delegation, a faintly disgusted home minister. And then the political spiel. If these women were responsible representatives of the people, making a responsible representation on growing rape in the city, they were doing a very good job of hiding the fact.
So what is it about political delegations that gives the general impression of a cacophonous kitty party? Definitely not the rather understated chief minister who looked, frankly, very worried.For the rest, much of a 70 member all-women team that met the Deputy Prime Minister L K Advani to demand more stringent laws on rape, couldn''t care beyond getting a seat next to Shiela Dikshit.
It was curiosity more than the urgent need to be a poster-waving protestor that made one join the procession. What really does happen when political points are scored over an issue that needs the most immediate and focussed attention of lawmakers?
There was, after all, nothing new in the demands being put forth before the Deputy Prime Minister. And there was nothing so compelling about this bunch of women that would make him see new light where he had not. Not a single mother chewing off the last of her nails as she wondered how to keep her daughter safe in a degenerating city. If there were, they weren''t telling.
These were mostly politicians, MLAs, councillors or as a vision in white announced while sticking an elbow into a couple of people and tripping over herself to catch up with Dikshit: "I am Delhi corporator. (sic)" There was the odd NGO head or journalist, but they weren''t the ones in need of being heard on this platform.
The proceedings, mainly a polite exchange between minister and delegation on what can be done about rape in the city ended in much talk, commiseration, agreement – nothing concrete. But a clamouring Congress delegation is unlikely to come out triumphant from a meeting with a BJP minister. Or vice versa. That was expected. What was not was the complete crassness of a young wannabe who saw her last chance of being heard slipping away.
There she was on her feet even as chairs were pushed back and television cameramen tripped over a friendly mesh of wires and people. "And what", she demanded to know, "was being done about those who had pulled down the Babri masjid?"
Some sentient beings shook their heads in wonder at the inappropriateness of the comment. Many others couldn''t care less. Clearly, pleased at her performance, the woman did not expect an answer. She was not getting one. Advani did not even pause as he was standing up. But the faintly incredulous look on his face was insult enough. Not that she saw it, celebrating as she was her moment of fame.
But that was later. As they pushed their way into the room, hierarchies began to dissolve. The fleet of foot got the best seats. The less intrepid hung on for dear life to the chairs they managed to grab. For those who came in late, they could just squeeze in. Then a wiry individual took charge: "Please let this lady go ahead. She is the state chief, she needs to be next to the chief minister." The lady in question, caught between two others in no mood to help, performed gravity defying feats to reach her destination. Such is the pull of political deities.
Those who didn''t manage to get into the official picture shrugged and discussed fading henna patterns on their hands left over from karva chauth. As Advani explained how the city''s moral fabric had to be changed, one woman politician nudged the other and dissolved into giggles. The other, more circumspect, merely grinned.