This story is from November 1, 2003

The Russian roulette of 'chance' begins

Elections are jackpot time for Nitin Sardare, whether he gets a BJP ticket from Gole Market (Sheila Dikshit’s constituency) or not. As the owner of the only tea stall in the Delhi BJP’s Pandit Pant Marg office, election time has meant good business and a time to network.
The Russian roulette of 'chance' begins
Elections are jackpot time for Nitin Sardare, whether he gets a BJP ticket from Gole Market (Sheila Dikshit’s constituency) or not. As the owner of the only tea stall in the Delhi BJP’s Pandit Pant Marg office, election time has meant good business and a time to network.
‘‘It’s not sure whether bhaisaheb (Sardare) will manage to get a ticket, that too from Gole Market, but you are not a politician if you do not aim high,’’ said Ganesh, one of the workers in the stall.
1x1 polls
While Sardare’s chances of getting a ticket are low, business is doing well, with samosas, pakoras and cold drinks being added to the election menu.
The crowds of ticket aspirants who gather every morning have seeking eyes and grab anyone coming out of the committee rooms. ‘‘Hamara chance kaisa hai?’’ (how good are my chances) is the most frequently asked question here. With over 1,100 applications for 70 assembly constituencies, the Russian roulette for tickets has just begun. Rumours abound that 50 out of the 70 seats have already been decided, and yet the wait for the final list is on.
When none of the top office bearers are around most ticket aspirants are found in the back garden of the office. Soaking in the late October sun, their companions are three roosters belonging to one of the staffers of the office. Rajnish Goenka, a businessman, wants to fight elections from Kalkaji constituency. He has been to the BJP office 2-3 times after applying.
‘‘My background is in student politics, and I want to get into state level politics now,’’ he says. Although he admits that hanging around the BJP office will not help much, he’s too stressed to not be at the scene of action.
Sunil Vashisht, head of the corporate cell of the BJP is a chartered accountant and wants to fight from Hauz Khas. Why the diversion? ‘‘This is not a diversion, I’m 46 years old, well settled, have people to look after my business, I want to give this a good shot,’’ he says.

Satyeshwari Joshi, a housewife has also applied for a ticket. While she trots out the usual ‘‘I want to serve the party/Delhi/ country’’ line, its the BJP’s promise to give at 12 tickets to women that has spurred her on.
Cynics abound at the party office. ‘‘Its useless to hang around here, tickets have already been decided by the higher ups, you think you’re going to get a ticket?’’ asks an office staffer to an aspirant.
But dreams are stronger than reality, and electoral politics a powerful drug. Pollsters may be writing off the party’s chances in these assembly elections, but in the heart of ticket aspirants, hope springs eternal.
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