Shashi Tharoor is a romantic seeking the grandeur of failure, which at times can be more satisfying than the banality of success, especially if the successful is unofficially the official candidate, in a party that has been institutionally trained to believe only in the sheltering shadow of the Family and in the inevitability of Our Leader of Deliverance.
When Rahul believes that power is the only thing that can bring about change in India, power starts to seem inconsistent.
He emerges as an insider who enjoys the freedom of an outsider characterised by memes, despite the party of the faithfuls’ attempts to understand his thoughts and interpret his body language.
It seems as though his only motivation is the knowledge that he is the other person’s subject of ignorance.
Politician Shashi Tharoor is more read than heard and has a reputation that precedes him in the public eye.
His strongest arguments are contained in books or magazine essays (Tharoor is a favourite contributor to Open), and these arguments have more influence and weight than his political utterances.
The average congressman stands out as the thinking congressman when he is known for merely thinking what is told to him.
He has the bravery to think for himself by declining to support a consensus president for the Highest Command, which is a crucial moral subversion.
Rahul merely needs to take a page out of the family manual to remember that giving up anything gives you more power by making a fake sacrifice.
In 2004, Manmohan Singh was elected prime minister when Sonia Gandhi declined.
Gandhi, in contrast to the actual Mrs. G, stood as the ultimate example of the most powerful without having authority during a melodramatic coronation ceremony.
Even experienced tea-leaf readers have trouble identifying India in 2022, just like Rahul does. Rahul seems to have accepted the similarities between the many definitions of “hellfire” and accepted its usefulness.
His denial of the party presidency and his evident elation during the solitary march provide more proof for the Rahul ideology in politics, which maintains that India is an exciting place to be if you’re a flâneur who finds power in the trip rather than the goal.
Rahul and Tharoor create the best Congress narrative at the worst possible time for the party.
Because any vote in Congress is not based on conscience but rather the convenience of being loyal—and voiceless—Tharoor may not win the presidency.
Even though the current unrest didn’t amount to a revolt, it was nevertheless a public expression of discontent.
Tharoor’s candidacy goes beyond what he claims it to be.
It serves as the party’s official moral conclusion. The debate is already in his favour.
Rahul has also transformed into Gandhi with a twist by rejecting authority and going with his gut; he is now the one who relishes the power of being on the long path of helplessness.
Rahul and Tharoor have changed the structure of the Congress tale, and they must maintain what they have started even though the end goal is still elusive and the argument is painful if they want to make it more than a passing bit of imagology.
Politicians become interesting story characters when they stop acting out a sad storyline and start taking on morally challenging challenges and walking along dangerous pathways.