On the campaign trail, Urmila Matondkar sets temperatures soaring with her star power, and comes down hard on failing civic facilities, internet trolls and communal politics
Kunal Guha (MUMBAI MIRROR; April 7, 2019)

Almost a quarter of a century ago, Urmila Matondkar dazzled cine-goers in Ram Gopal Varma’s blockbuster Rangeela — and those images of her poised on a rocky beach in a black swimsuit, with a Speedo-clad Jackie Shroff gazing at her with love and longing, are etched into the collective consciousness of the city.

Cut to the present: en route to campaigning in the predominantly Maharashtrian area of Kaju Pada in Borivali, Urmila Matondkar realises that her SUV route is being obstructed by a BEST bus. The driver and conductor have apparently disappeared to relieve themselves. But then again, April, as they say, is the cruellest month — and the Congress Party’s candidate for Mumbai North, her days in AC vanity vans long gone — is feeling the heat.

Soon, a mob of fans and party workers surrounds the car, armed with cellphone cameras. Her unarmed security guards struggle to disperse the crowd, but the actress-turned-politician pops out of the vehicle’s sunroof with a wide smile and folded hands. This has been a format for all rallies that Matondkar has attended in the last week, ever since she was fielded by the Congress Party on March 27.

Within the first 10 days of assuming her new avatar, the actress has met with trade associations, women’s wings and locals in her constituency to try and put her finger on the pulse of the electorate. “I have learnt that housing is a pressing concern and slum development projects need to be initiated. There are places in the city where water is available only at 2am and then, the locals have to wake up and go to work in a few hours.”

The 45-year-old’s decision to contest has garnered unsavoury reactions from certain quarters — singularly on Twitter. During her first interaction with the press at a microbrewery in Bandra, 12 hours after her formal induction, the actress laughed uproariously when a reporter quizzed her on being RSS founder Mohan Bhagwat’s niece — a theory that’s been widely endorsed across social media channels. Yet another scribe referred to her by her ‘real’ name, Mariyam Akhtar Mir — a moniker supposedly acquired after her marriage to businessman and model Mohsin Mir. “They also said that my husband is Pakistani — since that seems to be the ‘in’ thing these days. But making me related to Mohan Bhagwat is something even Manmohan Desai couldn’t have come up with,” says Matondkar. Despite her years in showbiz having insulated her from sharp criticism, she wasn’t prepared for things to take such a nasty turn. “I was initially alarmed but that’s what pushed me to join politics. There is no freedom to stand up for what one believes in, or express oneself in this country. This election is not just about power or party, it will decide our country’s path in the coming years.”

A female party worker clutching a megaphone abutting Matondkar’s car announces with proselytising zeal that can only be triggered by a general election: “Aapki Mumbaichi mulgi, aapki Konkan Kanya, Smt Urmila-taai, aapka aashirwad lene aapke beech mein aayi hain!” The announcement instigates a Pied Piper effect and locals surface from every corner, as the rally negotiates its way through the serpentine bylanes of Kaju Pada. Matondkar takes over the microphone and fluidly flits between Marathi and Hindi while addressing folks, emerging from their homes to see her. Matondkar’s dexterity with language has also been recently targeted for favouring certain communities that constitute a fat chunk of the vote bank. “If I speak to Gujaratis in Gujarati (their mother tongue) in Kandivali, how am I catering to just one community? I have a flair for languages. I can speak decent Telugu as well. What people don’t know about me is that I have always been an extraordinary student,” she tells us when we meet her at the rally.

Pitted against BJP MP Gopal Shetty, who defeated former Mumbai Congress chief Sanjay Nirupam in the 2014 Lok Sabha polls, Matondkar has been critical of her opponent’s tactics. Her point of contention — a long hoarding that communicated his party’s objectives in Gujarati was nothing but a ‘communal ploy’ to attract votes. “I only commented about the hoardings on a truck that were in a language which is not a language of the state. Is that wrong?” she counters. “When you call yourself a leader, you cannot divide your people based on language or religion. I don’t want to treat any community in isolation,” she adds, making eye contact with every bedazzled local she waves at.

At a U-turn, Matondkar descends from her car to personally greet a gathering of women and children. A sari-clad woman steps forward with an aarti thali and presses a tika on the actress’ forehead. “Sab ke saath photo loongi,” assures the actress to the congregation jostling to catch a closer glimpse of the actress. Her campaign trail has sensitized Matondkar to issues in her constitutency. “In recent years, Kandivali, Borivali and Malad have grown so vastly and deeply that the number of trains assigned barely suffice. For instance, there’s only one ladies special local train that leaves from Borivali to Churchgate. This is appalling given the number of women who commute daily on this route.” Matondkar also laments the deplorable state of healthcare, especially for pregnant women. “You wonder why even such basic things were not looked into. Healthcare centres have been created but there are hardly any doctors visiting them. I feel this area has been extremely neglected and you wonder if it is part of the same Mumbai which has been perceived as this glorious, glamourous city where one has lived for so many years.”

Despite her determined stance on improving civic infrastructure, the actress isn’t oblivious of the obvious. “No matter what you speak and how well you speak, people will consider you for your glamour quotient. Being an actress known for my sexy image, they will think that I am dumb blonde. But the beauty of it is that the idea of ‘dumb blonde’ itself is a myth that exists in a man’s mind,” she avers.

We approach a rudimentary stage, possibly constructed for a religious ceremony. Party workers urge Matondkar to say a few words from the vantage point she enjoys. “Pani puri kaisi hain?” she quizzes a group of young men gobbling down the quintessentially Mumbai street snack at a distance. Once convinced of the undivided attention of her audience, she folds her hands and makes a direct plea, seeking their mandate. “April 29 is a holiday and the women at home may be busy preparing meals. But before you have lunch, first go out and cast your vote for Congress. If the women of the household don’t come out and voice themselves, the country can’t progress,” she says.

A party worker suggests she sing a line or two from one of her chartbusters. The actress politely rejects the idea, saying, “Phir bolenge gaana gaake vote maang rahi hain.” Matondkar is alluding to media reports that followed after she broke into song — Lakdi ki kathi, kathi pe ghoda from Masoom (1983) at one of her recent rallies. The actress had then conveniently segued into “ab humein vikas ka ghoda aise hi leke jana hain… .. yahan se Dilli tak.” She assures us that this was “not a gimmick”. “I swear I didn’t know the media was following me. It was an extremely tiny pocket near the intersection between Borivali and Dahisar which houses low-income families. When I reached there, the kids were very excited and happy to see me. I had prepared a speech but when I met them, I was like ‘What do I tell them?’ I felt that if I could bring a smile on their face, it would be worth it,” she clarifies. “Yesterday, someone was asking me to play garba with Gujaratis and I refused,” adds the contestant, who was also accused of resorting to a cheap political stunt of eating a vada pav during her meeting with the Marathi Ekikaran Samiti.

As we reach the end of the rally, Matondkar mulls over her new identity. “Till yesterday, I was in a relaxed state of being. Now, I have reduced sleeping hours and spend more time in the car than anywhere else. I am constantly going from one place to another and have no fixed meal timings. I don’t even know when I last had water.” In her new role as a party candidate, Matondkar has even embraced a sartorial shift: dresses and gowns have had to make way for kurtas stitched from fabrics conducive to a tropical clime. “When you go amongst people from your constituency, you’re not bothered about what you’re wearing or how you’re looking. I am happy with my wardrobe because it’s comfortable. It’s better than wearing chiffon saris and dancing in the Alps like I have in my movies,” she quips. It is the sort of pragmatism that is rather apt for a woman on the move in the relentless Indian summer.


Matondkar flanked by Sanjay Nirupam (left) and Sachin Ahir at a Kandivali meeting