The street-smart psephologists
Namvar Singh (a well-known Hindi writer) was a friend of my father,” says Jaiprakash Singh Poi. The owner of a pushtaini (hereditary) tea-stall, which has been around for “three generations” in Varanasi, Jaiprakash may be heating milk and waiting for the brew to thicken all day, but he takes time out to show us paper clippings and narrate how he fought the elections in 2004.

“But it is all about gunmen. I don’t have any. I just have a bagful of conversations I hear at the stall and the wisdom I gather, but that is not enough to win elections, I have realised,” he says.

Poi may have not got the votes, but on the road his stall would win hands down. It is one where the most voluble conversations, loud arguments and opinions are voiced and challenged each day, and especially at election time.

The phrase “adda” and its accompanying culture is something the Bengalis might want to patent. But UP can proudly (with some competition from Bihar) lay claim to it as well. If you fling a Banarasi patta, it is almost certain to land on a psephologist or at least a political analyst. Outsiders can come to this state with as much contempt for caste-based politics as they want, but UPites would patiently welcome all outsiders and draw them into their own worlds, equations, voter swings and projections—often more reliable than the complex equations that flash on TV screens.

In the capital Lucknow, the legendary Indian Coffee House has seen many debates, often over tasteless cups of coffee. Especially in the decades when it was UP where most of the prime ministers and home ministers came from. Located in the heart of Hazratganj, the Coffee House has seen many men while away evenings, arguing and debating with the conviction that as voters they have the power to change the future of India.

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