A fun guessing game
Madam Prime Minister is a political thriller, the kind of novel one might pick for a long flight and then not put down. It is unapologetically racy and makes no bones about what it is: breezy potboiler territory, sans pretensions of any literary flourishes. In her second fictional outing, columnist Seema Goswami revisits familiar territory, and scripts a suitable sequel to her Race Course Road (2017), in the same genre, involving a first family of politics.
She reprises some key characters from the earlier book, swirls them together in a new mix, and douses it generously with cinematic action and high-octane drama.
The opening scene shows the newest prime minister being sworn in at the grand Durbar Hall of Rashtrapati Bhavan. A chip off the old block, she is the daughter of slain former prime minister Birendra Pratap Singh, and his unlikely political heir. She puts on a stoic facade while the country’s heavily critical eyes rest on her.
After all, she is the youngest prime minister India has ever had. Although she has effectively played the dynasty card, she is battling imposter syndrome as she readies to face the maelstrom of coalition politics and helm the country.
Asha Devi at 29 is a “bonafide beauty” with eyes that are “pools of limpid brown”, a “generous” mouth and a “peaches-andcream” complexion, bracketed by “deep, delicious dimples”.
As protagonist, she is sketched as a beauty with brains, a superwoman with feet of clay, combating both internal resistance from partners and colleagues, and threats to the country and its people. Unknown to anyone, her single-minded objective is to nail the mysterious hand behind the assassination of her father.
And thus begins Madam Prime Minister’s rocky political journey. A terrorist-hostage situation in the affluent heart of the capital, involving one of Asha Devi’s family members, ratchets up the thrill quotient and tests the mettle of the neophyte head of the nation. Another botched covert operation involving terrorists seems to make a dent in her popularity. But despite her frailties and foibles, which do not seem many to begin with, she often emerges victorious, always playing her cards right.
Politics plays out at every step, obviously. There is dynastic politics: her half-brothers’ soreness at having seen the chair snatched from under their noses. Horse-trading and Machiavellian moves are par for the course, whether from the buffoonesque opposition
Seema Goswami 300pp, ~399, Penguin leader Satyajit Kumar, who “couldn’t conceive a life without his goats” and is now scheming and eyeing the most important post in the country, or from the media circus, doing whatever it takes to get TRPS in a hashtagdriven world.
Goswami offers a reasonably entertaining ringside view of the games people play in political circles and television turntables, with flashes of satire, often lampooning her characters. “So, while he waited, Gaurav went into the studio to do what he did best — feed the beast of the 24/7 outrage machine that passed for TV news in India.” In passing reference, we are told this is a post-modi government.
The most entertaining aspect of Madam Prime Minister is its slew of characters that are clear caricatures of certain contemporary public figures. Sukanya Sarkar is the supremely canny and vitriolic leader of the regional Poriborton Party (PP), who looked “plain… in her crumpled sari, her unkempt hair bundled into a messy bun, stood only at a puny 5 feet 3 inches”.
Then there is the obnoxious TV presenter whose loud debates each night bombard drawing rooms across the country, for those that care to watch.
Gaurav Agnihotri, head of the News Tonight Network (NTN), is notorious for his thundering diatribes and machinations. “His eyes gleaming angrily through his rimless spectacles, he turned the full force of his wrath on the hapless LJP spokesperson. “How dare you,sir? How dare you?” And a little later, “Come on my show to face all the questions the nation wants to ask. And give us the answers we are looking for.”
There is not a smidgen of doubt about which real-life bombastic media personality Goswami has based Agnihotri on. With such facsimiles, the narrative provides for a fun guessing game.
There is enough spice in the story to adapt it to big-screen Bollywood or to a streaming platform. Prakash Jha’s Rajneeti in 2010 and last year’s web series Tandav by Ali Abbas Zafar belong to the same genre. As the line from Sholay goes: “Iss kahani mein emotion hai, drama hai, tragedy hai… (This story has emotion, drama, tragedy…)”
Sonali Mujumdar is an independent journalist. She lives in Mumbai