Rajiv's widow emerges as an aggressive campaigner, altering the complexion of the elections and forcing opponents to change tack.

By Harinder Baweja with Stephen David, L R Jagadheesan and Amarnath K Menon

For someone as private as he was," Sonia Gandhi wrote about her husband Rajiv, "it was initially an ordeal to face cameras and deliver speeches. In time he became a practiced and even polished speaker." In her own case, the transition from an intensely private person to the energetic political campaigner seems to have been easier and far quicker. To be precise, the blossoming of Sonia took four days, two meetings and two speeches.

Sonia hit the campaign trail at Sriperumbudur on January 11, and by the time she arrived in Bangalore on January 15, the change was all too apparent. In Sriperumbudur, it was a nervous, stiff, perspiring Sonia, overcome by stage fright and looking to daughter Priyanka for moral support, who hesitantly greeted the indifferent 10,000-strong crowd; four days later, before a gathering of some 80,000 in Bangalore, it was a purposeful and aggressive Sonia who trumpeted the Congress. Sailing up the steps, Sonia strode the stage, walking to both ends, waving, smiling and posing for the cameras. If in Sriperumbudur she constantly whispered into Priyanka's ear, in Bangalore she was more interested in establishing a rapport with the crowds who whistled in delight, even when state Congress chief Dharam Singh tried talking to her.

For Sonia, the journey to Sriperumbudur was a "pilgrimage". Four days later, it was a case of pilgrim's progress. In Sriperumbudur, she packaged herself as a widow saying, "In coming here I pay homage to Rajiv Gandhi and I grieve for him ... My heart is filled with great sadness. For all the years we were married, my husband was the centre of my life and existence ... a loving and protective father to our children." In Bangalore, she presented herself as the centre point of the family "to which I belong". The family in turn was linked to the Congress -- and the party to India.

The widow-turned-politician has come a long way. Stage fright has given way to composure and the nervous laugh has turned into a sly grin. The grey and maroon sari pallu in Bangalore was not twirled and twisted like the green and maroon one in Sriperumbudur. Nor was the text of the Bangalore speech referred to time and again. Her speech this time was 45 minutes long -- including the translation time -- unlike in Sriperumbudur, when it was all over in 25 minutes. Sonia is clearly loving the attention, the adulation, the flattery and the slogans. Preening. Smiling. Waving. Even reluctant to leave the stage.

Sonia's transition to a seasoned politician has been dramatic. It is not merely her cultivated aggression that has caught people unawares, but her tactical savvy. In a pre-emptive strike, she took the battle into the enemy camp by daring the Government to reveal the names of all those who had received bribes from Bofors, if only to prove Rajiv's innocence. She provoked the BJP into shedding its pusillanimity and attacking her frontally. "Sonia should not have the wrong impression that by raising the Bofors issue she escapes all guilt," says BJP General Secretary K.L. Sharma. "Transparency should begin at home," he adds after resurrecting memories of Ottavio Quattrochhi, the Italian businessman and friend of Rajiv and Sonia who fled India after being identified as a recipient of the Bofors pay-offs. It is not that Sonia is unaware of the vicious counter-offensive that will be launched against her. Her calculation is that she will earn public sympathy, particularly of women voters who admire the way she fights for her family's honour. She will project herself as the innocent victim of a monumental conspiracy.

Thus, when Andhra Pradesh Chief Minister N. Chandrababu Naidu plays up the "national pride card" saying, "We fought for freedom from foreign rule and the Congress wants to hand it back to a foreigner," Sonia has a ready and aggressive retort. "I became part of India 30 years ago when I entered Indira Gandhi's home as her eldest son's bride." Indeed, the foreigner charge seems to encourage Sonia into delving into her pet theme: family is equal to Congress is equal to country. Most of her speeches are peppered with references to the dynasty, to how the family sacrificed itself for the nation and, therefore, deserved votes. Her three themes are: sacrifice, stability and securalism.

It is amply clear that Sonia sees elections '98 as a fight between the Congress and the BJP -- which she has identified as the enemy without yet naming it directly. She has linked her decision to enter politics with the pain and anguish she says she felt over the way politicians were seeking votes in the name of religion. In Sriperumbudur, she spoke of not wanting to see society break up into fragments, and in Bangalore she elaborated: "I have been angered at the growing violence we see around us, the communal divide spurred by religious fundamentalists ... these elections represent a clash of some fundamental values, ideas and ideals. The choice is between the forces of harmony and progress and those which seek to exploit our differences in order to win power."

There is an interesting sub-text as well. Sonia has no illusion that the Congress she has inherited is a fighting-fit organisation. She openly acknowledges that the party and its present leadership has shortcomings. "With the right and able leadership, it (the Congress) is the only party which has the experience and capability to give India what it needs most, a stable government." In Hyderabad, she spoke of Rajiv's commitment to protect the Babri Masjid -- a tangential but clear indictment of former prime minister P.V. Narasimha Rao's government. This suits the demoralised Congress fine. State leaders are already tom-tomming the "glorious days of the Nehru-Gandhi era".

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