beams out of the screen at her expectant audience. Behind her is a scene of chaos: thousands of people mill about on a large dusty field, at the far end of which a dais has been constructed on a sizeable stage. Around the stage, several large cut-outs of crudely painted avatars of the god Vishnu have been arranged. Rama and Krishna, his two greatest hits, have pride of place. “This is the Ram Lila ground in Delhi,” the captions tell viewers, “and all of this is LIVE!”
The leaders of the AKWWEK sit on large thrones arranged in a line behind the stage. Ever since Namrata’s interview, the party has been in the news constantly, its name ruthlessly shortened to Kalki Party by acronym-unfriendly TV pundits. Several religious groups have challenged them publicly, claiming that Vishnu’s tenth avatar has already had his time. About twelve self-proclaimed Hindu leaders, mostly slightly crazy TV evangelists/astrologers/yogis, have declared the Kalki Party’s claims laughable lies because they were Kalki. Besides these, at least two Muslim sects and one Baha’i group claim that their founders were the divine incarnation the Kalki Party now claims to have discovered.
Other right-wing Hindu parties have offered the Kalki Party wary support — after a thumping defeat in the 2009 elections, India’s Hindu hardliners are no longer sure that spewing venom against Muslims will win them popular support, but who could pass up the chance to be associated with an avatar of Vishnu? The only reason the Kalki Party has not completely changed the face of Indian politics over the last two days is simple. No one has seen the baby yet, and until he is provedgenuinely divine in some way, none of the larger Hindu parties are willing to stick their necks out. And that is why the Kalki Party’s leaders have come to the nation’s capital today — they want to show the world its saviour, and Delhi’s the only city for that sort of thing.
The baby has been smuggled from Chennai to Delhi under the kind of secrecy and security normally reserved for Hollywood directors when they visit India to location-scout slums. Not a single photographer has managed to get anything except pictures of the private jet, cars and cradle the Kalki Party inner-circle politicians have used to carry the holy infant across the country for this grand unveiling.
As Namrata moves towards the stage, breathlessly listing the responses of various fashion designers, TV actors, restaurant owners and other intellectual heavyweights to the arrival of this baby on the celebrity scene, the Ram Lila ground begins to fill up. Hordes of people filter in steadily through flimsy metal detectors at every entrance. The front of the stage, above the police cordon, is a scrum of jostling cameramen, there is a frenzy of excitement as two women in white, surrounded by black-clad commandoes, climb the steps of the stage. They carry a large basket nearly completely covered in white cloth. From it emerges a shrill wail — the Baby Saviour’s first words to his assembled devotees are very open to interpretation.
“No actual god has appeared on live TV before,” Namrata says as the camera zooms in on the basket. “While it is not confirmed that the baby in the basket you can now see on DNNTV’s camera is divine, this is a landmark moment in the history of the world. This report will be broadcast worldwide, and is brought to you by us.”
A huge groan goes through the audience as a Kalki Party leader steps towards the dais and fiddles with the microphone in front of it. The world, it turns out, will get to see the divine baby only after it has finished listening to what its future leaders have to say. And they have a lot to say. The leaders lay out the Kalki Party’s multifaceted agenda: they believe that they are the superhumans Kalki is supposed to lead, the guardians he will reward with wealth and continents to govern when he comes of age and starts his
The leaders of the AKWWEK sit on large thrones arranged in a line behind the stage. Ever since Namrata’s interview, the party has been in the news constantly, its name ruthlessly shortened to Kalki Party by acronym-unfriendly TV pundits. Several religious groups have challenged them publicly, claiming that Vishnu’s tenth avatar has already had his time. About twelve self-proclaimed Hindu leaders, mostly slightly crazy TV evangelists/astrologers/yogis, have declared the Kalki Party’s claims laughable lies because they were Kalki. Besides these, at least two Muslim sects and one Baha’i group claim that their founders were the divine incarnation the Kalki Party now claims to have discovered.
Other right-wing Hindu parties have offered the Kalki Party wary support — after a thumping defeat in the 2009 elections, India’s Hindu hardliners are no longer sure that spewing venom against Muslims will win them popular support, but who could pass up the chance to be associated with an avatar of Vishnu? The only reason the Kalki Party has not completely changed the face of Indian politics over the last two days is simple. No one has seen the baby yet, and until he is provedgenuinely divine in some way, none of the larger Hindu parties are willing to stick their necks out. And that is why the Kalki Party’s leaders have come to the nation’s capital today — they want to show the world its saviour, and Delhi’s the only city for that sort of thing.
The baby has been smuggled from Chennai to Delhi under the kind of secrecy and security normally reserved for Hollywood directors when they visit India to location-scout slums. Not a single photographer has managed to get anything except pictures of the private jet, cars and cradle the Kalki Party inner-circle politicians have used to carry the holy infant across the country for this grand unveiling.
As Namrata moves towards the stage, breathlessly listing the responses of various fashion designers, TV actors, restaurant owners and other intellectual heavyweights to the arrival of this baby on the celebrity scene, the Ram Lila ground begins to fill up. Hordes of people filter in steadily through flimsy metal detectors at every entrance. The front of the stage, above the police cordon, is a scrum of jostling cameramen, there is a frenzy of excitement as two women in white, surrounded by black-clad commandoes, climb the steps of the stage. They carry a large basket nearly completely covered in white cloth. From it emerges a shrill wail — the Baby Saviour’s first words to his assembled devotees are very open to interpretation.
“No actual god has appeared on live TV before,” Namrata says as the camera zooms in on the basket. “While it is not confirmed that the baby in the basket you can now see on DNNTV’s camera is divine, this is a landmark moment in the history of the world. This report will be broadcast worldwide, and is brought to you by us.”
A huge groan goes through the audience as a Kalki Party leader steps towards the dais and fiddles with the microphone in front of it. The world, it turns out, will get to see the divine baby only after it has finished listening to what its future leaders have to say. And they have a lot to say. The leaders lay out the Kalki Party’s multifaceted agenda: they believe that they are the superhumans Kalki is supposed to lead, the guardians he will reward with wealth and continents to govern when he comes of age and starts his
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