Diplomatic or otherwise, silence isn’t what the crowds have come for. So after the mandatory slogan shouting and garlanding, Krishna gets up to speak. For Kumar Bangarappa, a deserter himself. To be fair, only from the Papa Bangarappa clan. Ever since he left a successful film career to join politics, Kumar has stayed through a decade with the Congress. Evidently he is no respecter of paternal values. Bangarappa Senior meanwhile traveled widely, from Congress to BJP to, last heard, Mulayam, with a brief freelancing stint running his own party.

The operative part of Krishna’s speech, delivered with seasoned flair, is anointing Kumar as a future minister. The Congress is being constantly needled as the only major player without a Chief Ministerial candidate. Never mind. The cabinet is being announced in advance.

Kumar is taking on brother Madhu—backed with a vengeance by Dad. The intricate family drama goes unmentioned. Who cares? Dynasty, like defection, is a fact of electoral life. Krishna winds up his address Krishna-like, invoking The Mahabharata. “In the war between cousins, Lord Krishna took the right side. I am only S.M. Krishna and I urge every one of you to back the right Bangarappa son.”

The midday meal done, the ice cream vendors cross the road and move to the next son’s rally site, part of the crowd in tow. The rally hoppers are in no mood to play Krishna. What’s a little Kurukshetra between siblings? Bangarappa’s voice travels faster than his helicopter. A recent recorded speech is played back. The flamboyant leader hasn’t made many public appearances as yet. He was apparently busy forward dealing with other parties. There’s also a parliamentary poll coming and he is an acknowledged master of combo deals.

The subsonic chopper finally lands at the venue. Which doesn’t turn out to be a good idea. The leader should have landed elsewhere and motored down. Even as the Dad & Darling Son Show gets going, part of the gathering switches towards the helicopter. Evidently the flying machine is a lot more appealing than the bicycle, Bangarappa’s party symbol. Many in the crowd including the ones who turn chopper-wards are wearing a red cap with the bicycle graphic on it. One such cap is handed over to Bangarappa as he ascends the dais. He fidgets with it for a while, keeps it aside and sits down to comb his hair. Why should he conceal his fine crop of jet-black hair? Nearly as old as Deve Gowda, at 76, among the many things he has defied is age. Not that he should have any ideological qualms about the red cap itself. When the colour runs, it could turn into a lily white Congress cap.