MS Shanker
Delhi’s upcoming assembly elections promise to be more than just a fight for power—they’re shaping up as a referendum on the political future of Arvind Kejriwal and his Aam Aadmi Party (AAP). Once the poster boy for anti-corruption crusades, Kejriwal has, ironically, become the epitome of everything he once opposed. If hypocrisy were a sport, Kejriwal would be a world champion.
Born out of Anna Hazare’s anti-corruption movement, the AAP once symbolized the dream of clean governance. Fast forward a decade, and the party has evolved—or devolved—into a parody of itself. Kejriwal, the self-proclaimed “aam aadmi” (common man), has made headlines not for his governance but for transforming his official residence into what critics have dubbed the “Sheesh Mahal” (Palace of Glass). Lavish fixtures, expensive wardrobes, and opulent meeting halls are just the tip of the iceberg. Even erstwhile Maharajas might have blushed at such extravagance. Comparisons to Saudi princes and Mukesh Ambani, the billionaire industrialist, are not misplaced—though even Ambani might wonder why a “common man” needs such royal indulgences.
Kejriwal’s political trajectory has been a study in contradictions. The man who once championed simplicity now oversees a party mired in allegations of corruption. The Delhi Excise Policy fiasco, dubious dealings in the name of Mohalla Clinics, and the alleged siphoning of funds from public welfare schemes have left his government under a cloud. Half his cabinet has spent more time in jail than in their offices—a testament to the “honesty” AAP once boasted about.
Then there’s the matter of Kejriwal’s political alliances and funding. From alleged ties to banned Khalistani groups to reports of backing from foreign entities like George Soros-funded NGOs, the AAP’s funding sources have raised eyebrows. In the land of the “kattar imandaar,” it seems honesty is not only scarce but also highly selective.
If his governance wasn’t enough to alienate voters, Kejriwal’s electoral strategies have become a masterclass in political desperation. Having neglected his promises to the Muslim minority, including unpaid salaries for Mullahs and Maulvis under the Wakf Board, Kejriwal now appears to be pivoting toward Hindu appeasement. Promises of an Rs. 18,000 monthly salaries for temple priests might sound generous, but it’s hard to take them seriously when the coffers remain empty for previously pledged commitments.
The Opposition, unsurprisingly, has pounced on this. Critics have dismissed his new promises as little more than a desperate attempt to cling to power—and they might be right. AAP’s decision to contest alone, despite being part of the INDIA alliance, signals its awareness of dwindling support among minority voters. With the Congress gaining traction among these groups, Kejriwal appears to be scrambling to lure the Hindu vote base that has traditionally aligned with the BJP—an electorate likely to see through his opportunistic overtures.
As defeat looms, Kejriwal’s political playbook has become increasingly transparent: promise the moon, deliver a pothole, and blame someone else for the craters. The once-idealistic bureaucrat turned populist leader now stands on the brink of political irrelevance. The Delhi elections are likely to determine whether Kejriwal can stage a miraculous comeback or if the curtain will finally fall on one of Indian politics’ most controversial and contradictory figures. Either way, it’s bound to be a spectacle—one that even his Sheesh Mahal won’t be able to hide.
