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I was at home attending school, living the life of a normal child; it was on the weekends that he made up for the absence during the week. He took me to the slums the first day and then only on the day when it was no longer a slum. I was surprised, and only then did I realise, what he had done in those 5 years.

People got fresh water, proper electricity, proper homes to stay; they had a hospital and even a school now. It was all happening. He was there on all news channels and newspapers. Some even rated him as the next PM.  

The next step was the toughest and the one which made all the difference.

                                                                       The Birth

March, 2021.

He gathered people one after the other, and two years before the next election he announced the birth of his party. Common Man’s Party (CMP). He had a party of 300 members, who had given up their previous parties, and it was a huge risk to their career. Not that they didn’t know, but they all wanted to do that. All of them were educated and there life was settled anyways, all they wanted to do was make a difference. If things didn’t work out they would get back to their work.

The Congress knew what came their way, was an open challenge and they knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

Dad was the president of the CMP, and this time he contested from the farmer suicide area of Vidharba. He handed over the Mumbai south constituency to a young educated person who lived there; he knew no matter what happened to the party that one constituency was theirs. It was the people who backed his decision.

Some even promised to canvass for him during the elections. His party followed the same agenda, work among the people and work for them. They all had won the hearts of the people one by one, and there work was shown on television and newspapers. Every day the front page had the story of the candidate working and their methodology. Everyone was living up to their expectations.

But dad had been having a tough time; things weren’t working out between the zamindars and the farmers. His attempts were becoming futile. The elections were nearing, and he still wasn’t making a mark. The other parties continued their old way of distributing liquor and one square meal. They filled trucks with people and got them to the city, fed them and distributed liquor.

There was an open distribution of money, but CMP had no support financially and so it had become crucial that there work counted. He tried meeting the families of the farmers who had committed suicide but they weren’t willing to trust another politician again. Time was running out and some where he knew he was going to lose. He kept the fight on.

The people from the no longer slum came to Vidharba and spoke to the families. They spoke of dad’s work and assured them that he wouldn’t let them down. Everything was at stake, lives of 300 members was at stake the lives of those who trusted them and more importantly this was the time where he could start making an impact on a little larger stage.

The elections had arrived, and polls went on peacefully, the turn out in the remote areas was higher than those in the city. The counting began, dad spent sleepless nights. He wanted the party to win; the news channels had predicted a victory before the elections. But he didn’t trust money and its affect; he knew that money could buy even the best of men.

The results were out and the party had won the elections with clear majority, but dad had lost the election, it was a setback to his confidence. He remained the party president as the members had faith in him. The Chief Minister was from Mumbai, he had become dad’s closest friend. Dad was happy that there was no dispute among the party members regarding that. Dad then shifted his attention to the neighbouring states. Things in Maharashtra had never been better and the new party had proved that work counts more.